Friday Fix

♚ | six

"WHAT the hell, Jungkook? You brought a girl into our room to have s*x? " The thought landed in my brain like a ton of bricks. "Is that why you told me to stay out?"

"Well what else was I supposed to do - ask you to f*****g stay in and watch?" Jungkook sneered. The girl had left quickly and now it was just me, him, and the horror in my mind that was the size of Jeju Island. "Or did you want a threesome?"

I recoiled, visibly appalled. "You - I can't - you were having s*x with her on my bed, Jungkook!"

"Keep your f*****g voice down - do you want the whole building to hear?"

"Bet you weren't saying that when she was moaning out your name!"

"We were f*****g drunk, okay? It's not safe to climb ladders when you're drunk!"

" 'It's not safe to' - " I stopped, feeling like I could choke. I couldn't continue. "You should have freaking told me! Give me a heads-up, for God's sake!"

I pointed at my bed furiously. "That was one image I could have done without!"

"I f*****g did!" Jungkook yelled. "I said I was having company tonight - everyone knows that means a girl is going to be present! What did you think I was going to do with her - watch reruns of Sister Act? "

What was this - some freaking boy code I wasn't aware about? "You shouldn't have done it on my bed!"

"Well if you don't like it that much then get the f**k out!"

We stood staring at each other, fuming and livid and all shades of incensed. Underlying it all was a fierce feeling of embarrassment, and judging from the way Jungkook's cheeks had gone faintly pink, I was sure it wasn't just from me.

"I," I bit out through gritted teeth, "am going to shower, and then sleep. You" - and I pointed a stiff finger at his chest - "better freaking do something about my soiled bedsheets."

Being the arrogant prick he was, he tilted his chin in great scorn. "What if I don't?"

"Then I'll freaking tell the dean that you brought a girl into the school," I hissed, simultaneously being aware of the fact that my next sentence would make me a hypocrite. "This is an all-boys academy, in case you'd forgotten."

Jungkook's face darkened and his eyes flashed like lightning. "You wouldn't f*****g dare."

"Try me, Ahn Jungkook."

His pupils had dilated in anger. His eyes were black, black like unpolished obsidian with a fire to match.

"Fine," he spat.

"Fine," I shot back.

As I showered, I couldn't stop the image of what I had just saw replaying in my head. I'd also just realized that the moaning I had heard was distinctly male, which meant it belonged to Jungkook - I scrubbed my scalp vigorously, as if that could dispel the image seared so deeply in my brain. If only it would. Good Lord. I was never going to look at him without thinking of that scene ever again.

I did not deserve this.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I let out a heavy sigh. The evening with my brothers seemed like a dream, all of a sudden. A nice dream, but it was over now and I had to return to reality.

I clenched my jaw. I was in this to win it. I was not going to give up on my passion just because I had gotten the world's worst roommate.

Digging through the plastic bag I always brought with me into the shower, I took out the cosmetic kit. With the contour pen gripped in my fingers like a weapon, I began to reapply my male makeup.

♚

By the time I got out of the shower, the old bedsheets of the lower bunk was missing. Granted Jungkook hadn't helped me put on a new cover, and had just left the bed bare, but he had done what I told him to do, and I was satisfied.

"I should probably tell you that this is going to be a weekly thing." He sounded calmer now. Way too calm. "I need my Friday fix."

I stared at him warily. "You need your what?"

There was a crunch as he munched on an apple. "My Friday fix. It's the only night in the week where I bring a girl over. It's a sacred tradition, and I'm not about to stop it just because I've gotten a terrible roommate."

"Well aren't you sexually active," I said scathingly.

He raised a lazy eyebrow. "Don't act sore just because you can't get laid." He stood up, hands in pockets. Skinny jeans look mighty fine on him, dang.

Stop. It.

"You think I'm the only guy in the block who brings a girl over? A dozen other dudes do the same thing. And if you rat on me, they'll find out pretty quickly - and trust me when I say I won't be the only problem you'll have to contend with then. No one," he emphasized, "likes a sneak. Especially when you're sneaking on one of their greatest pleasures."

Ugh. Can this guy get anymore despicable?

"You know, there's a word for people like you," I said. "It's called 'playboy'."

"Wrong. The correct term is 'fuckboy', and there's a difference."

The apple in his fingers went up and down as he tossed it into the air. "Still a better calling than being a sissy, though." He let out a scoff as he eyed the BTS sweatshirt I was wearing. "What kind of a boy digs male groups?"

I swallowed, suddenly feeling very aware of the bag of lingerie and makeup I was now holding behind my back. My fingers crinkled the plastic, tensed, and in the room it sounded very loud.

His eyes narrowed. "What was that?"

Shit.

"None of your business." But I stumbled upon the last word, and in one fluid motion he had stepped close.

"People who say that usually have a secret worth knowing." His voice was dangerously low, and the way he held himself was like a feline waiting to pounce.

He stepped even closer and I took a step back. Bad move. Because now he knew I definitely had something I didn't want him to see, and I could see the vindictive triumph lighting up his eyes as he reached the conclusion that this was something he might be able to use to hold over my head.

Boy, is he right.

He made a grab for the plastic bag and an "eep!" floated out of my lips as I ducked. Now he was darting closer - now he was over the threshold - he's in my side of the room! He flung out an arm and I weaved underneath it in quick motion, skipping out of reach on the other side. Spinning on his heels he stretched out a ridiculously long leg and nearly tripped me over.

In a flash I was trapped between him and the wall, the plastic bag crushed under my grip but thankfully out of reach - and out of sight.

Jungkook had an arm on both sides of my head and was standing awfully close. His glare burned holes in my skull.

"You know," I managed to get out without sounding like a terrified mouse, "if someone came in right now they could misunderstand pretty quickly."

He said nothing for a moment. Then he let out a snort of derision and stepped away.

"As if. Sorry, but I don't f**k dudes."

The words "but I'm not one" were hovering right at the tip of my tongue and I had to bite down hard to stop it from slipping out. As soon as he walked back to his desk, I opened my wardrobe and shoved the plastic bag into the deepest corner of the deepest drawer I could find.

That had been way too close for comfort. Seeing how well we were getting along so far, I doubted he'd be on my side once my true gender was exposed. If anyone in this academy would jump for a chance to kick me out, I'd bet every last buck out of my pockets that that person would be Ahn Jungkook.

♚

"Move those limbs, move it! I want to see fire! I want to see blood, sweat and tears! I want to see you all go, go, go!"

A few feet to my right, Jungkook was going through squat thrusts like nobody's business. Today he'd opt for a white sleeveless shirt and loose black shorts over tight leggings. Times like this when he was fully concentrating - and most of all, silent - I had to remind myself that this was a bastard that I disliked as much as he did me. Especially after last Friday.

Two sharp claps from the instructor brought us to a slow halt. As we all sagged on the floor in various states of exhaustion, I spied a shadow moving near the door. The instructor stepped the front of the room and spoke.

"Now I know that in urban dance, we're always talking about strength and endurance here. But I want you all to know that it needs more than that."

The instructor looked toward the dance room door and gestured. "Come in, Tae."

Holy schnazzle, it's the goddamn prince.

Of course it wasn't really a prince. It was the boy from the other day, the one I'd stalked - watched - while he was dancing to La Cumparsita. I tucked my knees to my chest and tried to keep my face out of sight. If he had seen me then he might recognize me - and that was an awkward event I would like to keep from happening.

Damn, does he look like he had just walked straight out from a fairytale.

"This is Jung Tae," the instructor introduced. "I'm sure most of you know him - he's one of our top students here, majoring in ballroom dance; a fine role model for all of his juniors."

"Hello everyone." The way he smiled made me soft. "It's nice to meet you."

"His course, coupled with his background in ballet, means that he has a good grasp of his body's fluidity," the instructor continued. "In short, most of you would expect someone like him, who learns soft dances like waltz and ballet, unable to tackle urban dance, am I right? Wrong."

Walking over to a portable stereo, the instructor pressed a button. Tae took his spot in the space the class had instinctively made for him.

Troye Sivan's My My My played and Tae moved.

I promptly forgot how to breathe.

The choreography was perfectly soulful, and in line with the melody. I could definitely see elements of urban dance in there - the locking; the hard, strong swipes and quick, fast gestures. But instead of being rigid, the way Tae moved was like water, elbows tearing through air with speed yet grace, wrist and neck snapping into positions with fervor. When the performance ended I clapped so hard I thought I might have snapped a finger.

Tae smiled, lips parting almost until you could see his teeth. His chest was still heaving from exertion. While the instructor went on to explain how urban dance benefited from flexibility and control, a dry mocking voice whispered in my ear.

"Stop ogling, your jaw's about to fall to the floor."

I cast Jungkook a look of strong dislike. He merely let out a self-satisfied smirk.

When the class ended, I was among the last to leave. As I walked out, the door caught my bag and all my stuff came spilling out.

"Ah, hell," I groaned, and crouched down to pick it all up.

A pair of black Guccis floated into my vision. Then a wrist, looking strong and masculine in contrast to the delicate charm bracelet encircled around it. My blue pen was wrapped within long fingers and an all-too familiar husky voice asked,

"Is this yours?"

❈

A box of kookies and chocolataes for you all, for your support has gained me 10 followers. Indeed, it is with deep gratitude that I pen this.

I fear this sizzling might fall into a simmer, and the water is hardly boiling. Is this pace fine, or would you like me to increase it? Be not afraid to voice out your opinions, my dear readers.

Yours in seduction,

Lady Godiva.