You hear your sister before you can see her. She's sitting with a group of people, laughing loudly, leaning against a girl that you recognize from last time: Wendy. They are both holding cups in their hands, colorful bottles standing in front of them and their cheeks are rosy.

Jb looks at you, “You wanna get a drink, at least?” He gives you a mischievous smile. “For celebrating your second party?”

His eyes twinkle under the bright light and you give him a quick nod. A drink can't hurt, right?

Jb gives you a triumphant smile and motions for you to come closer and you're nearing the table where your sister is sitting.

You turn to Jb and your head. Are they friends?

“I bet you prefer something sweet, right?” Jb winks at you and it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. You place your hands on your cheeks and shake your head, “I haven't had that much to drink before... but I like the fruity stuff, I guess?”

His eyes glide over assortment of alcohol on the table, beckoning for you to come closer.

You step into the line of vision of your sister and her face darkens considerably and she turns to Wendy with a grim face, whispering something into her ear, before she looks at you again, putting on a bright smile. But she doesn't look at you. She looks right through you.

“Raspberry or strawberry?”

You tear your eyes away from your sisters unusual sugary smile ad stare at Jb.

“Pardon...?”

“You want raspberry or strawberry?” He holds up two bottles that look almost identical, save for the colorful labels and looks at you. Waiting. Smiling.

“Maybe strawberry?” You're not really sure. They're probably gonna taste similar, aren't they? It's alcohol after all meant to make you drunk, not taste good.

Jaebum takes in your hesitant face and indecisive voice and chuckles. “You weren't lying when you said you're inexperienced.”

You pout involuntarily and look at the floor. “Why would I?”

You hear the sound of shuffling and suddenly Jb puts a cup in front of your face with a red liquid in it. You stare at it suspicously before you take it, hold your breath and take a small sip. He didn't lie. It does taste sweet and you relish the taste for a moment before looking back at Jb again.

“It's good.” You smile.

Jb stares at you for a second. A second too long. A bit to intently. You bite down on your lip.

“I'm glad you liked it, princess.”

Your cheeks turn red instantly, making Jb chuckle. He must be used to flirting and picking up girls at different parties, but you're definitely not used to being hit on. You're not used to dazzling guys giving you compliments.

“Hey Jb, stop flirting!”, someone hollers from the sofa and you recognize the guy from the lat party, the one who poured you the drink.

Jb throws his arm over your shoulder and your blush increases tenfold. There's a shrill sound in your ears as Jb replies. It must be something witty, because everyone laughs and your eyes land on your sister. She's staring down at her lap and you frown. Did you being here really dampen her mood that much?

Suddenly, you feel like the worst sister in the world, like a cumbersome burden, an immature teenager who just desperately wants to hang out with her older cooler sister and her friends who look like supermodels. You rub your eyes, letting out a sigh. Maybe...

“Hey, let's sit down, ok?”

Jb points to sofa. There's barely any space left, but you wiggle and squeeze until you end up pressed against him and he gives you a small wink. You feel his warm body against yours, thighs not even centimeters apart and you catch a whiff of his cologne. You're still dazed by his handsomeness until you feel something on your thigh and you look down. Jb has placed his hand on your thigh, resting it on your body.

The others around you are chatting animatedly, giggling and chattering. It's loud. Too loud and when someone opens another bottle loudly and everyone cheers, you feel your heart constricting in your chest. Your breath hitches and you feel uncomfortable and anxious. You have to get out of this situation. Now.

You quickly stand up and excuse yourself with an apologetic smile towards Jb. “I'm sorry”, you stutter an quickly walk away from the cramped space until you can finally breath again. God.

You lean against the wall, exhaling slowly with you eyes closed. You have left your cup at the table, but your phone is still in your back pocket. Should you just call your parents to pick you up? You glance at your watch and see that it's not even eleven o'clock. She would probably come, but it would be awkward to explain that you just panicked without a reason.

Your eyelids flutter and you think back to the last party. To feeling happy. To dancing with Bambam. Bambam. He hasn't appeared this night, even though he's basically the reason you came, though you can't blame him for that. You didn't tell him that you liked his stupid jokes and silly demeanor and his politeness-

“You need a ride home?”

A voice cuts through your thoughts, a voice that is both sharp and warm and you have trouble matching it with a face, so you open your eyes. It isn't someone that you would have expected and you stare at him with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Did Suyeon see you panicking?

Did she send him?

Is she friends with Youngjae?

Youngjae doesn't wait for you to figure out your thoughts but heads for the door instead and you hesitate for a moment before you hastily follow him.

“Wait, wait...”, you mutter. “Did... did Suyeon send you?”

Youngjae doesn't turn around, but you can picture the indifferent expression he must be wearing.

“She should've told Bambam to bring you home.” He turns around and you end up staring right into his cold, brown eyes. “But he isn't here tonight.”

You bite your lip and stare down at the floor. It must be fate, right? You take Bambam's absence as your signal and weasel after Youngjae as he strides to an expensive-looking car. He gets in and you follow suit, getting out your phone to text Suyeon to thank her for organising your ride and to apologize.

After you're done texting, you keep your phone in your hands, still a bit cautious. Youngjae asks for the name of your street and you give it to him, still playing with your phone.

The rest of the ride is silent. You repeatedly try to think of something witty or smart to say, but your mouth feels dry and you feel like everything would come out as in incoherent ramble, so you just keep your mouth shut. Youngjae doesn't seem too intent of ending the silence, either.

Instead, he's staring straight ahead at the road and traffic lights, driving smoothly through the congested streets filled with late night partygoers and the unfortunate souls who still have to go to work. His slender fingers are holding the steering wheel and his breath comes out in regular rhytms.

You lean your head against the seat and stifle a yawn when turns left, entering your street.

He stops at the curb, right before your entrance and finally turns to you. His fringe is covering his forehead and you repress the urge of pushing it back.

“Thanks”, you mumble and remembering the way your mother would scold you whenever you weren't being polite enough, you open your mouth again to repeat, this time clearly enunciated, “Thank you, Youngjae” and then you quickly get out before his cold eyes turn you to ice.