Chapter 8:-The Line We Drew
560 Words
We didn’t talk about it.
Not the almost-kiss. Not the c***k in his voice when he said, "You were never simple." Not the way his gaze dipped to my mouth like it held answers he was afraid to hear.
Instead, we played pretend again. Better than ever.
The next few days in Greece passed in a blur of staged affection. His arm always found its way around my waist in public. My head always rested against his shoulder during photos. We laughed on cue. We kissed in front of strangers. But behind closed doors? We became strangers again.
We drew a line. And like two fools pretending we didn’t see it, we walked right up to the edge and peered across.
"Y/N," Jungkook called from the hallway, knocking once before entering our shared suite. He was wearing a navy button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a hint of cologne that made my stomach flip.
"Hmm?"
"There’s a yacht dinner cruise tonight. Mandatory for the newlyweds," he said, one brow raised. "You ready to lie to thirty more people and smile through it?"
"Born ready," I muttered, brushing mascara over my lashes.
He stepped behind me, close enough that I could see him in the vanity mirror. His eyes dropped to my exposed shoulder, and for a second, neither of us breathed.
Then he cleared his throat. "I’ll wait outside."
The yacht glided through the Aegean Sea like something out of a dream. Champagne flowed, fairy lights twinkled overhead, and violins hummed in the background. I stood at the railing, watching the moonlight ripple on the waves.
Jungkook came to stand beside me, two flutes of champagne in hand. He handed me one, then leaned on the rail, mirroring my pose.
"We’re good at this," I said.
"Fooling the world? Yeah."
"But I don’t think we’re fooling ourselves anymore."
His eyes met mine. Not cold. Not guarded. Just tired.
"We weren’t supposed to feel anything," he said. "I’m not good at losing control."
I sipped my champagne, pulse hammering. "Maybe that’s why it feels so real. Because it’s the only part of this that isn’t scripted."
The silence stretched, heavy with confessions we weren’t brave enough to make.
Then, without warning, the boat dipped slightly with a wave, and I stumbled.
Jungkook’s arm shot out, catching me against his chest. My breath hitched. His palm was flat against my lower back. My hands gripped the lapels of his jacket.
We didn’t move.
His eyes searched mine, lingering too long.
"You okay?" he murmured, voice barely audible above the sea breeze.
"No," I whispered. "Not when you look at me like that."
He leaned in, slowly. Testing. Torturing.
This time, I didn’t stop him.
The kiss was soft at first. Careful. Curious. But the moment his lips parted mine, everything pent up unraveled. His fingers tangled in my hair as I pressed closer, the champagne flute falling to the deck with a soft thud I barely registered.
It wasn’t fireworks. It was wildfire. Slow, consuming, dangerous.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, he didn’t let go. He rested his forehead against mine.
"We’re crossing every line."
"Then maybe it’s time to admit there aren’t any left."
And under the stars, we kissed again. Not as husband and wife.
But as something far more terrifying.
As something that felt real.
- Writer
