Unwrapping Taehyung

Chapter One

Jungkook

"JUNGKOOK," why don't you get us more sangria? In the kitchen. On the kitchen table. That's the good stuff." Kim Namjoon winked at me. "You know, Taehyung is-" Jimin started. Namjoon put an arm around Jimin's neck in a casual stranglehold, clapped a hand over his mouth, and patted it lightly as if he were joking around. "Jungkook?" Namjoon held out his glass to me. "Uh...sure." I took his glass, wondering if this was a pledge thing. If I, as a new member of Beta Theta Sigma, and a lowly freshman, was going to be a community gopher for the foreseeable future. But so far Namjoon and the BTS frat brothers had been amazingly benevolent. When I and four other freshmen rushed, there were no illegal pranks. No panty-on-head wearing, streaking through the quad, or naked spanking. Which was good, because I would have laughed, ho ho ho, at least at everything except possibly the naked spanking. Then I'd have made a beeline for the exit.

I never thought I'd be the type to rush a frat. In fact, if my parents knew about it, they'd be lecturing me over the phone about peer pressure and the dangers of codependency in closed social structures. They were both psychologists, and I, I was their lifelong patient. But when Namjoon, a TA in one of my classes, latched onto me and gave me the hard sell, I didn't resist. Kim Namjoon was president of the BTS frat house. He was that guy who was cooler than you could ever hope to be, even if you took master lessons from Bob Dylan and Will Smith. He was genuinely smart but a thousand leagues from being a nerd, good looking but lazy with it, you know? He had that messy just-rolled-out-of-bed look every time you saw him, and from what I've heard he pretty much just wears the first thing he see's when opens his eye's. But somehow always managed to look like he just got off the catwalk. He was a senior in environmental science, of course, because that's what terminally cool people major in. And he had these insightful brown eyes, eyes that looked right into your soul and said, I'm touching your soul, brother.

Namjoon was warm. In other words, the opposite of my parents. Besides the BTS frat house was a cool mansion, which was way better than sharing a small dumpy dorm room with my deviant and overtly skeevy roommate. I was so over all the licking and hair pulling. He pulled his own hair, not mine, but still. I mean seriously, I'd wake up in the middle of the night to find the guy either hovering over my bed jacking-off while pulling out his own hair or at the foot of my bed trying to lick my toes. I mean, I've seen some weird ass shit before, but come on, who does that? I was definitely ready to move into a room at the BTS frat house that first week in November. At least I knew no one there was going to try and lick my toes while I slept. Not unless I asked them to anyway. And if I had some stirring of attraction to Namjoon at first, it honestly had nothing to do with my decision. I figured out in the first ten minutes that he was straight, and that was the end of that. A tiny bit of interest nipped in the bud, and we were both the better for it. "Kitchen," I repeated, looking pointedly at the punch bowl not two feet away. "Trust me," Namjoon insisted, winking at me again. I sighed and went off to find the frat house kitchen.

I pushed through a door and saw a refrigerator. I'd found the kitchen. My sense of accomplishment lasted for about two seconds. Then I noticed the guy standing at the sink doing dishes. The frat brothers I'd met so far were upscale-looking guys. Even with Namjoons slouchy yet cool fashion sense, there was a sense of quality about him that shone. And the other frat members, like Jimin, tended to wear fitted jeans and slightly oversize t-shirts, the occasional loose shirt, and always managed to tread that narrow line between respectable student and nerd. They were more prone to Ultimate Frisbee on the front lawn or playing video games such as Call of Duty and Overwatch than Football, Drunken Parties, and Steroids. It was a zone I felt comfortable in, if not precisely where I belonged. But this creature at this sink was something else. He was a big guy, and not in a 'he's tall' sort of way, he looked to be around 5"10, same as me, which was taller than most of the other frat brothers, but still. I meant, in a big broad-shouldered, yummy muscle sort of way.