Mochi

CHAPTER FIVE

"Oh my God, you just can't keep it in your pants can you?" I grouse, irritated by the way he continues to flirt with our waitress, who now eyes me with embarrassment.

She must think that we are a couple because, despite the fact that she'd only just been flirting right back, she suddenly looks entirely abashed. She stammers our order back to us, and scurries away quickly, not even bothering to look back.

Jimin simply shrugs, not even bothering to offer an apology, and my heart shrinks. I don't know why I continue to let it bother me when I already know this is just how he is.

"So why do you think your dad missed your weekly dinner? It really isn't like him."

I scowl, irritated now that he has brought it up.

"I don't know, " I reveal. "I've sent him a few texts, and he hasn't replied other than to say that he's fine and that he is sorry."

Jimin let's out a solid 'hmph', and his lips twitch in irritation. I smile, placing my hand over his where it rests upon the table.

"Thanks for bringing me out, " I say sincerely, "I really do appreciate it."

The corners of his mouth turn upwards, and he flashes me a quick smile.

"Thanks aren't really necessary you know?" He tells me, still smiling. "You're my most important person. Of course I'd be here for you like this."

I blush, for a moment forgetting all the walls that I've built up to protect me from disappointment. But then, I recall the girl in his window, and the dozens of others just like her, and I scowl.

The smile falls from Jimin's face, and he pulls his hand away from mine.

I sigh in frustration, wishing that I could keep tighter control over my emotions. We dissolve into an awkward silence, each of us lost within our own minds as we await our orders.

And when our food does arrive, it is brought by a different server, this one male.

"I've got two orders of friend chicken, " he tells us merrily, not in the least put off by the aura of gloom surrounding us.

As he places our plates upon the table, he winks at me flirtily.

"Is there anything else I can get for the pretty lady?"

I smile, not even noticing the way that Jimin scowls instead. He's handsome, after all. Neatly groomed hair exposes a rather attractive forehead, and his small but emotive, crescent-shaped eyes nearly sparkle with poorly concealed amusement.

"The pretty lady has everything she needs, " Jimin growls, "you can leave now."

"Jimin!" I exclaim, distraught by his impoliteness, "there's no need to be rude! Am I not allowed to receive compliments now?"

I have half a mind to make him apologize, but it's too late, as the server has already left. Though, thankfully, it seems as if he hadn't taken Jimin's scathing tone personally, I am still abhorred.

He glares at me defiantly, refusing to so much as justify his outlandish response, and I can't help but feel indignant and hurt.

He's always been like this.

Oh, it's fair enough for him to be out sticking his dick into whatever will spread their legs for him, but God forbid that I should even receive a single compliment. I thought we'd progressed pass this in high school, but I see that I was wrong.

"You should apologize to him, " I murmur, far too upset to speak normally, and afraid that I might end up raising my voice at any minute.

"I will not, " he retorts, "he was looking at you like you're a piece of meat!"

I laugh bitterly, pushing my plate away as my appetite is suddenly non-existent.

"That's real rich coming from you, " I deadpan, refusing to look him in the eye.

After digging in my purse for a moment, I find my wallet and deposit a wad of cash into the table. I stand up, sling my purse over my shoulder, and walk away.

I am simply far too upset to be around Jimin right now.

But whether I wish it or not, Jimin stands and follows me, refusing to let me be.

"Oli, " he calls, rushing after me as fast as his legs will carry him, and touching me gently upon the shoulder as he approaches. "Oli, I'm sorry! Okay? I just..."

I stop, whirling around to face him with furious eyes.

"You just what Jimin?"

A part of me hopes that this is where he will finally tell me that he likes me, finally ask me to be his like I have waited for all this time.

But I should know better than to hope at this point.

"Nevermind, it's not important, " he says, looking entirely contrite. "But I promise I won't do it again."

He offers me an apologetic smile, a tentative one, as well as his hand. Sighing in resignation, I take his proferred hand, pushing my emotions back into that little box that allows me to keep them hidden away.

"Even if nothing ever changes, " I tell myself silently, "it's better than losing Jimin altogether."

I allow him to lead me home, hands linked and pace leisurely. Jimin, it seems, is just as introspective as I am. Both of us are silent, and though I can't testify for Jimin, my mind is a whirlwind of activity.

How did things end up this way?

Is it because I am a foreigner after all? Though Jimin had always, has always, told me that my mothers place of birth didn't matter, I have no choice but to question his sincerity. Of all the women I have witnessed Jimin flirting with, none of them have looked European in any way.

I've seen all manner of women throw themselves at him, of every color and ethnicity. And yet, he always goes for the asian women.

I don't believe in coincidences.

Does he find me ugly? I find that hard to believe. I have been ridiculed for many things, but being ugly has never been one of them. But on that same token, how come no one ever asks me out? How come I never receive confessions? I've seen it happen often enough to even the most unassuming girl in school, so what makes me so different?