𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗡 ✓ 𝗸𝘁𝗵 • 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 • 𝗷𝗷𝗸 🔞

11. She's coming with me

My hands became claws on his shoulders. I was so taken aback by what he just said, my nails dug into his skin.

"Ouch!" he winced.

Lucky for him, he had a thick sweatshirt on. He strongly grabbed my wrists to get away from my grip.

"What kind of massage is that?" he protested. "I was kidding. It's just that it gets cold at night."

"I'm not cold," I answered, some tension in my voice. 

I had no idea why I reacted so fiercely. I felt goosebumps all over my body as soon as his hands came caressing my calves. Why was I so flustered from such a simple touch?

I instantly knew I could not be trusted in the presence of Jungkook. He was way too appealing for me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have..." 

"Don't worry about it," I laughed it off. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. I was just... surprised."

I smiled at him to show I was not angry. He nodded and apologized once more. I reached for his arms again, gently massaging his strong muscles.

"Anyway," I said, trying to come back to the last subject. "I'm curious who it is."

I always thought one of the singers I worked with might have recommended me to Bang PD. I never imagined it could have been BTS themselves - or a member of BTS - who would have been intently looking for me.

"Could you write a song for me?" asked Jungkook with cute puppy eyes.

"Sure. I write songs every day for you guys. It's my job," I chuckled.

"No, no," Jungkook was looking at me with big lovey-dovey eyes. "Write a song for me."

His eyes were so intense. I could not hold his stare.

"Sure," I gulped.

"You're so talented. I love the way you write. I wish..." he said, his lips parted, looking in the distance.

It seemed like he wanted to add something but was hesitating to do so.

"I wish I could be as good as you," he smiled.

I blushed. I was not expecting this at all.

"Don't you have physiotherapists for that?" I asked, trying to change the subject, my hands still rubbing his shoulders. "I mean, you have a whole army of stylists, make-up artists, gym coaches, choreographers... you must have a physiotherapist, right?"

"Right," he promptly replied. "We do. But they are not as pretty as you."

I lifted my hand, ready to hit him on the head. He grabbed it in the air before I could harm him.

"Or as tender as you," he added, lifting an eyebrow.

We both laughed. His hand still in mine, he intertwined our fingers. My heart froze.