Don't Wanna Be Your Girl || Jensoo

Chapter 12

"Oh my God!"

Jennie cringes at the sudden exclamation and shoots Chaeyoung an irritated look, only to find dark eyes rooted upon her neck.

"What the actual fuck, Jennie?"

Oh. Crap.

"That is the most enormous hickey I've seen in my entire fucking life."

In truth, Jennie had forgotten all about the incriminating mark until she absently ran a hand under the collar of her shirt, inadvertently exposing the angry burst of red and purple in the process.

"Chaeyoung, please," she grits out in a warning tone, eyes darting around the library stacks, "could you adjust your volume to something below foghorn level?"

Jennie tugs the flannel closer around her neck and shuffles her chair a few inches away in an attempt to ward off Chaeyoung's attention. It's ineffective, to say the least, because Chaeyoung just leans closer, balancing precariously on two legs of her own chair.

"Jesus, it looks like you've been mauled by a wild animal. I can actually see the indentation of teeth from here."

Chaeyoung reaches for Jennie's collar but she bats the hand away, exasperated. "Stop it."

The chair settles back against the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

"Did you know it's possible to die from a human bite? I read an article about it once on Mashable. This kid in Texas, right? His high school girlfriend gave him a hickey and, boom, three days later he was hospitalised with rabies and died."

"Mashable is hardly a bastion of reliable journalism. And, statistically, that's very unlikely."

"Still. Tacky. I mean, what are you? Twelve."

"It's not like I asked her to bite me," Jennie snaps, just at the exact moment a girl wanders past their table on the way to the Feminist Theory section.

(It's forever been a source of consternation to Jennie that the library management saw fit to locate it next to the men's restrooms. Something vintage arbiter of irony Alanis Morissette would surely agree is incongruous.)

The redhead, someone Jennie vaguely recognises from Choi's class, throws her a look of wry amusement. Jennie keeps her eyes firmly fixed on the textbook in front of her until she's sure the girl—Lana, Lola, Lucy?—is out of earshot.

"Normally she leaves them in less conspicuous places."

Doing a quick, furtive check for any other interlopers, she pops open a button on her shirt and pulls the material aside to show Chaeyoung. As soon as Chaeyoung catches sight of the vibrantly coloured splotches marring Jennie's sternum, some fresh, some fading, her jaw drops.

"Ignoring for a second that you just flashed me in public, I repeat: fuck."

"I know."

"Is this why you've been ghosting me all weekend? You were with Jisoo the whole time, getting covered in mildly sexy yet potentially lethal and disfiguring hickeys?"

Jennie only nods, an odd mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction making her cheeks grow hot.

"I didn't get back to my dorm until Sunday afternoon."

She doesn't even have to look to know Chaeyoung's eyebrows are somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline.

The scathing mockery Jennie expects isn't forthcoming and when she finally glances at Chaeyoung there's an expression on the angular planes of her face that's verging on... soft. It's so jarring, so out of place and unsettling, that Jennie doesn't know how to feel about it.