My idea of flirting is staring at someone and hope they’re braver than me

You poked the home button of your phone, scowling when you were greeted by a lack of new text messages or voicemails. It was official, you decided, shoving the mobile aside. Jeon Jungkook was a jerk.

Of course, anybody who knew him would have immediately argued back. Jeon Jungkook is awesome, they’d tell you, a terrific guy. They’d go on to list everything that was so great about him: he was kind, he was smart, he was charismatic, and he had a sense of humour that was enough to bring tears of laughter to just about anybody’s eyes. In all fairness, there had been a time when you would have agreed with it all. He was funny, he did have a good heart, not to mention he had a killer smile that caused butterflies to erupt and shimmy in your stomach.

But the best part of all was that he had actually seemed interested in you. The two of you had met in your first year photojournalism class and really hit it off, spending months afterwards chatting and exchanging not-so-subtle flirtations. Given everything, you’d honestly thought that he’d felt for you the way you had felt for him, desire and affection and straight up let’s skip the formalities and make out in my bedroom (which, if you looked past the present resentment and bitterness, you admittedly still felt).

But as time passed on you noticed one minor but very disconcerting aspect of your relationship: it was always you making the first move. You were the one who sent the first text, made the first call, or generally initiated the conversation altogether with him. Quite frankly, you were getting sick of it. Because while Jungkook was an extremely charming man you wished to have the pleasure of dating, you had no intention of pursuing him if he wasn’t going to return the effort.

So here you were, three and a half weeks later, inbox empty and displeasure practically hammered into a permanent place on your face.

Three and a half weeks. Almost an entire month. At first you had been willing to wait, holding back your usual “What’s shakin, bacon?” texts and silently imploring him to send one instead. But as the days passed by with no sign of contact from him whatsoever, your patience had waned and morphed into something between desolation and vexation. Why hadn’t he contacted you yet? Was he purposely ignoring you? It was entirely possible that you had read the situation wrong. Stupid, stupid. Maybe he just didn’t like you that way. Maybe he had forgotten about you. But how likely was that? There was no way he could have erased you completely from his memory in the span of three-going-on-four weeks.

Sighing, you drained the remaining dregs of your latte and pushed the cup away. Without looking at the screen you picked up your phone and shoved it into your pocket. Enough was enough. It was time to leave the cafe and make your way home. At least there, I can wallow in my misery out of sight of public eyes.

But the God of Fortune must have really liked messing around with you, because the minute you stood up the door opened and in walked the bane of your existence himself. With his hair styled to perfection and headphones dangling around his neck, he appeared carefree and like he didn’t have a single worry in the world. Surprise and dread leapt inside your chest but were chased away by the pesky bug known as annoyance. So that jerk really had forgotten about you. The absolute nerve of him.

Jungkook pulled the door behind him and turned towards the counter. Instinctively you seated yourself again, biting down your irritation and contemplating your next move. You could stay at your table and try to hide from view, but considering you were right in his line of vision, that plan probably wouldn’t work out nicely… You also had the option of marching past him without sparing a single glance in his direction, but again, it wouldn’t do as he’d hear and see your attempted exit. You sighed again. When had dealing with boy troubles become such a complicated issue?
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