My french speaking Master

Dear Future Self,

            Tell appa and umma how much you love them. This might be the last day of present Yoona. Remind yourself that if ever you survived this horrendous day. Please NEVER EVER be a clutz anymore and broke any expensive camera especially the one owned by a stupid arrogant pig named Jaejoong

             Pray for me

                                       Im YoonA

I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine

I got a love and I know its all mine

Oh. Oh-oh-oh

       “Mmnnn.” I mumbled.

Where’s that music coming from? I asked my self. Then I realized that it was my phone ringing. What the hell? Who’s in the right mind calling me this early? Its still 5:00 am.  I lazily took my phone from the side table.

       “Im Yoona.”  I heard a familiar voice before I even say hello

        “Who’s this?” I asked

        “Your master.”   And with that simple statement, my sleepiness was drained and I automatically opened my eyes. I could hear a chuckle from the other line and I snorted. “YAH! You’re not my master and what made you call me this early in the morning?!” 

        “Glad you asked. Bring some newspaper here. “

        “What?”

        “I don’t like repeating myself Yoona. Just bring it here. 6:00 am at Delifrance” and with that, the phone call ended in a swift.

      As much as I like to ditch him, I can’t because I don’t break my word.  I never break my word. So  I rushed outside wearing denim shorts and a graphic tee paired with my ever comfy black converse sneakers and a hat to hide my long locks of brown hair. I went to the nearest bookstore and bought any available newspaper that they have.

      I want to prove to him that I can do every single thing because my middle name is awesome. 

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      My head was still spinning and my legs hurt like crazy. The cab that I was riding on accidentally flattens its tires and I’m still far from Delifrance so I walked, no. I ran from there to here. Thank goodness I was wearing my sneakers.

       “Here.” 

      I pant heavily as I throw the newspaper on the table. Jaejoong looked at me like I was a street kid or something.  My face was starting to sweat and all I think about is getting a tall caramel macchiato with hot vanilla muffins on the side. I was about to order one when I realized that he’s reading the French newspaper.  French is my second language next to English and I rarely see a tourist who knows how to speak and read well in French.

      Because as a matter of fact… Montreal is the second largest French-speaking city next to Paris. So it’s no surprise that practically everything here is either in English or in French. Maybe he’s pretending to read it just to look so cool.

     “Tu sais comment parler et lire le français? (You know how to speak and read French?)” I asked. Looking for signs of discomfort, I purposely bought the French newspaper just to make him pissed but Jaejoong was just sitting on the chair and reading in keen interest.

     “évidemment… et pourquoi demandez-vous?(Obviously… why are you asking?)” He smirked as he answered with a perfect French accent.

      “Rien. (nothing) ” I muttered. “C'est juste que ... vous avoir l'air cool. (It's just that... you look cool)”

      “Je vous demande pardon?”

       “So all I have to do is to watch you eat breakfast and read the news the whole morning?” I asked in english, Changing the topic.

       “No.”

He finally lay down the papers and smiled at me

      “You will enjoy what we’ll do next.” He added. Uh-oh. I smell trouble. How come I enjoy anything when I’m with him?! He will just torture me. Signing this contract is definitely a wrong move and his smile, there’s something about his smile that gives me the creep.

      “What are you planning?” I nervously asked.

      He stood up and paid our bills. “Wait” I grabbed another bite and quickly followed him outside. Jaejoong went to a motorcycle. Not just a normal one but a racing type motorcycle.  It is sleek, shiny, and stylish. Top quality metal plates and titanium covers the whole body. Later, I learned that this motorcycle is a 1198 SP, the latest model of the Ducati superbikes.

      Jaejoong threw a silver helmet at me. “What you waiting for?” Jaejoong waved his hand and gestured to seat behind him. I was reluctant to accept his offer because I have a bad feeling about it.

      But I still went with his crazy antic. 

     “YAH! YOU FOOL. I ALMOST DIE THERE!!!” I hope he understands my point, you see. We almost get caught by the cops because he reached the speed limit. “If I die how can I pay you huh? Idiot.” Jaejoong ignored me instead he was welcomed by the whole staff of the building that we entered.

      “Here we are.”  Jaejoong said.

A gym?

      Even if it’s still 7:00 in the morning the whole place was already filled with people.  One of the staff leads us to a secluded room with high-tech fitness equipment, a food bar with all the healthy stuffs like fruit shakes, sugar –free pastries, and wheat cereals, and posh cushions.

      I eyed the food bar so badly. I can eat anything I want right? I will try the kiwi-blueberry shake and strawberry-filled cereals.

     “So I’ll just sit here and wait for you. Good luck Jaejoong!” I beamed. This job ain’t bad at all.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Just here. Enjoying this fruit shake.”  Then a girl in hot pink blinding tights gave me clothes and rubber shoes. She smiled at me. “You can change your clothes this way Ma’am” She politely said. My smile faded when I realized that these are gym clothes.

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