Hana

We look good. I’m not just saying that because we were dressed well, but because it was practically a proven fact. Men and women turned their heads as we walked through the door, and the slight smirk and a wink that Jimin sent toward a girl actually made her turn bright red and run away.

They were in fitted suit jackets over fitted collared shirts that tucked perfectly into their fitted slacks. Crisp. Clean. If they wore this to work, they would have made every girl and probably a few men fall for them.

I felt like the odd one out because I was in a dress that again was too short and tight for my tastes. But that was what was fitting of the event, as the New Year’s party took place at a club.

I trusted Jimin’s judgement, and when he had handed me the dress, I just gulped and obeyed. Paired with a pair of classic Louboutins and tastefully done but intense makeup, I looked like a taller, more attractive, and more confident Byun Hana.

It felt kind of like when I had gotten my braces off and I had gotten Lasik. My father forced me to change my appearance from head-to-toe claiming that "a Byun is supposed to be attractive." When I had gone back after vacation, I was treated like a transfer student.

And now, as we walked past the crowd around the entrance of the highest end club in Seoul, it felt somewhat like I was back in high school. The whispers of “Who is that?” and “Who is that group?” and “Is that really Byun Hana?” just made me feel slightly small.

Sure, I had put much more makeup than I usually did, preferring to stick to the natural look for my professional life, but I couldn’t look that different.

“Byun Hana, is that you?!”

My head turns at the voice, and I try not to grimace as one of the daughters of the biggest steel corporations in Asia runs up to me. I’m sure Jimin is internally laughing because I had no idea how to interact with most females.

“Hello, Hyuna.” I relax a little with recognition and smile slightly. Of all the women in the club who could be talking to me, she was probably the safest. “It’s good to see you again.”

She looks so at place with the setting, and I’m fighting my nerves to pull at my dress, which is ironic because her dress shows much more skin. She always was the confident one out of us two, and I really had to respect that. She grabs my hand, and before I can send a plea of help to Jimin or Jungkook, I’m whisked away.

“Geez, if I had known that getting engaged would make you so attractive, I would have proposed to you myself,” she laughs and my cheeks turn bright red. What is she even saying? “You’ve met my friends, right?”

If I said yes, would she make me talk to them? For some reason, I had been exposed to males so much growing up that I had problems connecting with females. And it was disturbingly obvious when I talked to them, because we had nothing in common.

Most of the females in Korea’s upper society had an easy childhood and tons of comfort growing up. They got a female role model growing up, even if it was their mother. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t successful in the business world, but they had a different way of surviving in it. They didn’t have to learn what it meant to be female from their dad. And all he had really taught me was that my gender was to be used as a weapon.

The club’s loud music covers up my response to Hyuna, who takes me to her group. Her group was known for not having many friends, so why was I being included? What was her intention?

They yell hello over the loud music, and I just wave back, unsure of myself.

Jimin, save me.

“Who did you come with?” Jiyoon asks, mouth close to my ear so she could be heard. She had this natural charisma that I could only wish for.

“Oh, you know. Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook.”

“Jungkook? Are you going to introduce us to your fiancé?” Sohyun lights up and I can only nod dumbly in response, trying to smile brightly back but it comes off as forced grimace.

“Let’s go dance!” Gayoon laughs, cutting off my awkward interactions and dragging the rest of the group on to the floor.

I would have made my escape had it not been for Hyuna’s fingers wrapping firmly around my wrist. People didn’t give this girl enough credit.

The loud music is invigorating, and the flashing lights just add to the atmosphere. There was a few fog machines going off intermittently somewhere, and the crowd was swirling with the music. Everyone who was known in the upper echelons of the business world in Korea was here, stripped of their usual professional façade.

The other girls move their hips to the music. I figure that I have nothing to lose, and they cheer as I join in with the way Jimin had taught me, dancing along to the beat. It was barely a few minutes before a male comes up behind Jiyoon and asks if he can dance with her. The others get picked off, and I’m about to excuse myself but an arm wraps around my waist and pulls me backwards into a hard chest.

“Relax,” Jungkook murmurs into my ear, and I tense up instead of sigh with relief. But instead of trying to yell anything back, I play along, flipping my hair over to the side and roll back into his body. I nearly miss his hiss as my hips move with his, and that just makes me feel more uneasy. And god we should not be doing this at all but his hands move from my waist to my hips and I bite my lip, fighting my thoughts. Ever since the night after the Christmas Gala when he overstepped the increasingly hazier boundary, and after I had found out that he had been hiding something, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head.

It must have been the club and the lights and the music because this was wrong. So wrong. There should have been something calming about dancing with Jungkook in public because we were just keeping up appearances, but I feel a little sick with myself instead.

When the song ends, I wave to Hyuna and her friends as I take my escape. I know Jungkook is following closely behind, saying nothing. His fingers weave with mine, and I just let him, trying to process what happened.

“Where did you go?” Jimin yells over the music. “I just saw Hyuna pull you away and you were gone.”

I shrug. That sounded like exactly what happened. My eyes sweep the surroundings, and I don’t miss the girls looking at the three guys next to me. I smirk. So they were a hot commodity? I had no issue messing with that.

I grab Jimin’s drink, down it, and squeeze in between the seats at the table to plop down between Jimin and Jungkook. “Where are Min Yoongi and his little friends?”

Namjoon just points at a few tables down, to a counter that is just as swarmed with girls as our table is, and I roll my eyes. They were no doubt entertaining a few of them, and I nudge Namjoon to do the same.

He groans back but shoots a smile towards a group of females that are pretending not to watch the three men at the table. I twist, trying to look more attractive and accommodating, but I think it comes off more as a challenge as they narrow their eyes and stalk towards the table.

“Byun Hana.” The rasp of the voice is unmistakable, even with the music, and I turn towards Min Yoongi, who had just walked up to the table. His eyebrow is cocked up in dangerous disregard to the social boundary between our two groups. “How about we have a little chat on the dance floor?”

I spring to my feet immediately. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one. Jungkook’s hand moves to cover mine, and I furrow my eyebrows.

“He wants to dance with you,” Jungkook murmurs into my ear. “Be careful.”

Yoongi’s eyes are dangerous as he can guess exactly what Jungkook is saying. “Are you afraid that her spending a little time with me is going to make her run away from you?” His smirk is dangerous and his eyes are lit up. “Jeon Jungkook, I thought you would be less insecure.”

“Give him h*l