No, I am not happy about him peeping at me, while I practice ridiculously lewd girl group dances.

That was wrong, let me revise this. I don’t like Jonghyun staring at me because of god-know-what-reason, when he has just returned from a date with his girlfriend. Apart from that, he can watch me all he wants.

In fact, I should just let him leave after the music finishes, because I know I can’t deal with a best friend whose happy grin – at the thought of his recent date – makes my face scrunch up with every inch it spreads.
Nonetheless, I am enough of an idiot to address him, a sick feeling of belligerence mixed with need for contact welling up inside me. Not being able to deal with my jealousy and anger, I have managed to avoid him all those last days; I know I should keep the distance now.
Jjong’s voice is small and flat as he answers me with a simple “Hey.”, clearly aware that I have known his presence all along. “What’s up?”
“Practicing.” My syllables are curt, just like the steps he takes into our room. He is so obviously confused – the nickname “puppy” well-deserved – and I hate seeing him like this.
“How about you give me some constructive criticism? This dance is giving me some problems…” It doesn’t, but I say that probably because I want to see his dazed expression from before again.
“Sure.”
The moment I start the song, I snap into dance mode, giving it my all (hips rolling all the way around, lifting my shirt just a little too much) in a futile attempt to be seductive. Every girl would faint right then and there; but how should a straight man take interest into my flat chest and narrow hips? That is my irony.
I glance at Jonghyun from the corner of my eye, his expression unusually unreadable. But I can’t keep on watching him because a turn is coming up in the dance. So I spin around.

The music is so loud that I don’t hear the steps shuffling behind me or the jangling of his jewelry that must be audible while Jjong lifts his arms. I find it almost impudent how the song keeps flowing whereas I am rendered motionless.

Jjong smells like girl and smoke but his arms are as familiar and strong as always. He presses my back to his chest so unexpectedly, I don’t even have time to wonder why he suddenly behaves like this (and if he knows that he is torturing me).
“Wha-what’s the matter with you? You’re interrupting my dance.” is my pathetic try to act angry. It’s far from the first time that we hug like this, but this time it’s different, he’s not allowed to do those things anymore. I’m sure he’s too simpleminded to realize that.
“Why can’t I? I just felt like it… We’re best friends, so…” His voice sounds a bit insecure at that last part. But I can’t deny that; weare best friends and I want nothing more than to stay close to him.

My voice loses it’s edge a little as I speak: “’Course we are.”
Just as I think that the right moment for Jjong to pull away has just passed, his head comes to rest on my shoulder, fitting so perfectly because of our slight height difference. Does he know how awkward he is making this best-friends-embrace?
I feel myself tense up, the hair at the back of my neck bristling. Every second he stays, the feeling of friendship becomes more distant in my heart; doesn’t he notice the atmosphere changing?
“I don’t know what I’ve done, but please don’t be mad at me, okay?” And how could I be, even though jealousy of his girlfriend bites into my insides and I know that I am feeling so much more right now than he will ever feel.
He releases me then; I miss his touch and am relieved at the same time.
“Great that we worked things out. I’m gonna go see what the others are doing now. By the way, your dance just now was superb.” He flashes me a wide grin, back to his bling bling self within seconds.

Great that we worked things out.Great that you’re so good at making everything more complicated.
With that the door falls shut.