“…It’s not that cold outside.”

“Liar. I can see the goosebumps on your arms. Also, you’re kind of shaking.”

You quickly clasped your hands behind your back, shoulders hunched forward as you grimaced at the cheeky boy standing expectantly in front of you. As if to prove his point, a cold breeze wrapped around your bare knees and pushed the hem of your skirt centimeters higher to reveal the bumps spreading across the skin of your thighs. Blame the autumn nights; the temperature couldn’t have been much lower than the inside of the movie theatre but the few difference in degrees (and more likely the combination of butter popcorn and diet soda) made your stomach twist.

He grinned as if to say you know I’m right before turning towards the door, using his free hand to grasp the handle and push it open. For a moment all you registered was warm light before Jimin took a step onto the doorway, shoving aside the door to reveal a disarray of sneakers and slippers piled by the entrance. He jerked his head for you to follow, already slipping his own shoes off as you lingered behind the door, beige sandals anchored to the porch pavement.

Satoori drifts out of an unseen room, “Jimin, is that you?” followed by the smell of marinated meat and just-cooked rice.

Before Jimin could much less open his mouth to reply, it suddenly felt like his right hand was being squeezed to death.

You felt your cheeks heat up as your boyfriend turned to curiously look at you, and you quickly dropped his hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, quickly starting forward only to bump into warm muscle- his arms, actually, which he slung across the doorframe to block your entrance.

“Mom, just a second,” he called before stepping back out into the evening chill and swinging the door firmly shut. You could feel something that was hopefully not popcorn rise in your throat, and it must have shown because Jimin finally cocked his head and paused, “Are you okay? You kind of look like you’re constipated or something.”

The random mention of bodily functions in this situation did it, and you sank to the ground in nervous laughter, the unexpected turn of events having shot all of your carefully constructed confidence.

“It’s just…I’m really nervous.” You confessed, and you felt Jimin shift his weight from one foot to the other. He always did that before speaking.

“I know you’re going to tell me that your parents will like me, and I guess so, but I’m just worried that they’ll meet me and be disappointed. Like they’ll wonder why you’re dating me out of all the girls you’ve met, and you know I really at making conversation and they’ll think I’m cold or boring or that we don’t suit each other, or more like me not suiting you,” you barreled on, denying Jimin the chance to say anything.

“I even wore a skirt!” you wailed to his basketball shorts, feeling increasingly panicked after verbalizing all your worries.

A pause.

“Yeah, but it looks nice,” Jimin noted, and even without looking up you could feel his greasy smile directed towards you.

“…That’s all you can say?”

“I mean, it’s a bit short and you might be flashing someone crouched like that, but I like it.”

“It’s your fault,” you muttered, concentrating on the conversation at hand and feeling yourself grow a little calmer. “I spent thirty minutes last night picking what to wear, and then you showed up at my door still in your practice clothes, you jerk.”

Jimin laughed again, and at the sound you felt yourself exhale a breath you hadn’t know you were holding. He lowered himself to sit on the porch steps close enough for your shoulders to rub against each other.

“You look nice,” he repeated, reaching an arm out to ruffle the bangs you had painstakingly styled that afternoon. “I- yah, that hurts- I think my parents will like you. Even if they really do think you’re awkward or dull- they won’t, though,” he assured hastily seeing the expression on your face. “They’ll like you simply because I really really like you, and they trust my own judgment. Also, first impressions are kind of useless because I’ve already told them so much about you.” He smiled sheepishly, turning to peek at you with a sidelong glance.  

“Really?”

He smirked widely, “Why so surprised? Your point about all the other girls is valid, but this is happening because you just couldn’t resist me, right jagi? Ack, stop hitting me!”

“Idiot,” you declared, doing your best to in the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “We both know it was you who wanted to start the conversation and ended up following me into the girls’ bathroom.”

“That was an accident.”

“I bet you left that part out of the story when you told your parents about me, didn’t you?” You grinned as you rose to your feet, tugging the hem of the skirt and turning towards the door.

Jimin scrambled to his feet as he saw you get up. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got to set the record straight! Your parents probably think I’m infatuated with you or something, when it’s really the other way around,” you stuck your tongue out at him before cracking the door open.

You heard him laugh behind you before snaking his arm around your waist as he trailed you into the house, and this time you slid your sandals off to place next to his on the floor before going inside.