*quel est le problème? - what is the problem? //
*oui, je le suis - yes, I am
special thanks to teentopbapshineefx for helping me translate things to French because Google Translate lol. & also, do you guys like the long chapters or should I make them shorter? thanks xx
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            Every girl would be more than ecstatic knowing that G-Dragon took her phone, put his number in her phone and vice versa, chased her down to return her phone, and then ask her to go out to eat with him and his friends. But I’m not just every girl. I’m Aubrey Sinclair.
            And I find that to be stupid and annoying. Here’s the thing: I’m Aubrey Sinclair. I am not a second choice. I don’t like to play games unless I start them, and in the end, I always win. I do not like bipolar people who deny me twice and then decide to ask me to go out to eat a day later. I do not—
            My phone rings. Kwon Jiyong. I roll my eyes and answer. “What?”
            “Are you busy today?” he asks.
            “Yes. I have classes to attend. So if you could just not be annoying, that would be splendid.” I reply before sipping on my iced caramel macchiato.
            “What about after class?”
            “What is your deal?!” I ask him. “One minute you look at me like I’m completely arrogant and the next minute you want to become best friends! You’re bipolar and psychotic. Goodbye.”

            I walk into class, Mr. DuBois raising an eyebrow at me the minute I walk in. “Fumes are coming out of your head,” he says, using his hands to make it look like an explosion coming from his head. “Quel est le problème?”
            I sigh. “Bipolar people. That’s the problem.” I put my bag and my drink down on the table. Suddenly, I hear the door open—which is odd because I’m always the latest.
            “Ah. Are you a nouvel étudiant?” Mr. DuBois asks, making me turn my head to look at it. Suddenly, my heart stops and my jaw drops. She gives him a smile, nodding her head.
            “Oui, je le suis.” she replies back in almost-perfect French. “I’m Linda Park.”
 

            “I can’t believe she’s here! How can she just come to Hongik from Inha?!” I rant, throwing my hands in the air. I can hear phone cameras going off. “She makes me want to jump in a hole. Oh, wait. She might follow me in there, too!”
            “I want to get to know this girl,” Hyunjoong smirks. “I want to see why she can get under your skin so easily.”
            I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not how it seems. I didn’t go to Hyunjoong to rant about my problems—that would be a sin. He just came around while I was pacing back and forth in the middle of campus, ranting to myself. Bad timing is all it is.
            “She is not getting under my skin.” I glare at him. “I just thought I left her back in high school. She was always trying to be equal to me. She attempted to learn French and English because I knew French and English, she wanted to be valedictorian because I was valedictorian—she even tried asking the counselors if there could be two spots for valedictorian like are you kidding me right now?—, and she even attempted to buy the same Tom Ford dress I had, but it was a limited edition. It’s annoying, really.”
            “Get your head out of your , honey. Not everyone wants to be Aubrey Sinclair.” Hyunjoong says, rolling his eyes.  I punch his arm.
            “That’s because not everyone can be!” I roll my eyes. “Whatever. You’re no help.”
            “Well, enough of your dilemma.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I want to quit college.”
            “What?” I give him an are-you-stupid look.
            “I don’t know. Learning really isn’t my thing.” he shrugs. “Plus, a college degree is just a piece of paper to people like us. So quit with me.”
            “You’re ing insane.” I say before walking away. Suddenly, my phone rings—Kwon Jiyong. “ARGH!”
            “Are you okay?” an ear-screeching voice asks. I look up to see Linda ing Park in front of me.
            “Perfectly fine,” I smile.
            “Hel-lo,” Hyunjoong smiles as he comes up to shake her hand. “I’ve never seen you around before. What’s your name?”
            “I’m Linda Park.” she says proudly, causing my ear drums to bust.
            “Ah, you’re the one Aubrey has been talking about.” he smirks, looking at me.
            “Oh, we go way back!” she chuckles.
            “Yep, a blast from the past,” I scorn.
            “So Aubrey said you went to Inha University,” Hyunjoong says. “What made you switch to Hongik?”
            “Well, I heard the fashion design program was really good here.” she says. Hyunjoong smirks at me.
            “So you want to major in fashion design, huh?” he asks her, still looking at me.
            “What a surprise.” I roll my eyes, my sarcasm filling the air.
            “Yes, I do! I was hoping we could go grab something to eat and you can fill me in on some fashion pointers and tips?” Linda asks me, to my distaste. “And we can catch up, too!”
            “I’ll join,” Hyunjoong smiles. Even worse. Suddenly, my phone rings again—Kwon Jiyong. I hold up a finger to both of them.
            “Hey, are you finally done with the shoot?” I answer.
            “What?” he replies.
            “Great! I’ll head to Myongwolgwan now. See you there!” I say before hanging up. I exchange my phone for my sunglasses, putting them on. “I already made plans with a friend yesterday to go out to eat today. Sorry!”
            My phone rings with a text message once I reach my car.
            Hyunjoong: You don’t have friends.
 

            I walk up to the door to see an innumerable amount of girls standing beside the door. Suddenly, one of them gasps. “Aubrey Sinclair?!” one of them shouts, causing all of them to make eye contact with me. Their squeals nearly cause my head to combust as they surround me. I make my way past them, feeling dizzy once I walk through the door due to the camera flashes. I close my eyes and take a moment to refocus. “Aubrey Sinclair?” a voice calls, causing me to jump. I look back to see a hostess giving me a smile. “Follow me.”
            She leads me to a table where a familiar face sits. He sets his phone down and stands up quickly, walking around the table to pull out a chair for me. “I was about to call you.”
            “When do you not,” I say, more of a statement than a question. I take off my sunglasses and slip them in my purse, setting my purse on the chair beside me. He takes his seat across from me, handing me a menu. I raise an eyebrow at him. “What’s the catch? First you don’t want to do anything with me, and now you do?”
            He chuckles. “Well, like I said, at first I thought you were a .” I give a little laugh, unfazed by it. People will stomp all over you if you aren’t a . And I’m Aubrey Sinclair. No one stomps all over me. “Then I saw you reading a book during the shoot instead of looking at the pictures, and you looked really into it. I thought that maybe you weren’t so bad. Then when we met at the library, it seemed like you were a completely different person. It was fun hanging out with that Aubrey Sinclair.”
            “Well, that’s a shame for you. She only comes out once a year.” I say. That Aubrey Sinclair. There is no that Aubrey Sinclair. There’s only this Aubrey Sinclair, and this Aubrey Sinclair wants marinated beef ribs.

            After we order, Jiyong continues with small talk. “What made you agree to a date after calling me…” he looks up at the ceiling at an angle, his brows furrowing. His face, then, softens up and he looks at me. “Bipolar and psychotic?”
            “Well, first of all, this is not a date.” I state. “And second of all, you were just an escape plan from hanging out with two Devils.”
            “Is that so?” he asks, giving out a little smile. “Do they go to your school? Hongik University, right?”
            “Unfortunately they do,” I roll my eyes. I raise an eyebrow. “How do you know I go to Hongik?”
            “Everything about you is on the Internet.” he chuckles. “Are you forgetting that you’re a famous model?”
            “Of course not,” I reply. “I’m Aubrey Sinclair.”

            We exchanged laughs as the conversation went on throughout our meal. It was weird because I’ve never felt so comfortable around someone before—but it was nice. I even got to the point where I called him Jiyong instead of G-Dragon. My eyes catch onto him as he wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets it on the table. He grabs his drink and taps a sip, making eye contact with me. My body starts to feel warm, and I can hear my heart beating as if it were right beside my ear. I quickly move my eyes elsewhere.
            “Are you okay?” he asks.
            “Yeah,” I reply quickly. I slow my voice down. “It’s just hot in here, that’s all.”
            “Then take off your cardigan.” I stare at him blankly (there’s a taste of your own medicine). Is he trying to be a smart with me?
            “No,” I reply, rolling my eyes. No one gets smart with me.
            “But you said you were hot.”
            “I’m fine.”
            “Really, because your face is even getting a little red.” he says with a little laugh. I roll my eyes at him. It actually was getting hotter by the moment, but I couldn’t take it off. It would be too embarrassing. “I know you’re dying.”
            “I can’t,” I blurb, taken aback by how that slipped out. He raises an eyebrow.
            “Why not?” he asks. I close my eyes and huff out in frustration. This guy was really pushing it. “It’s not like you’re disabled or anything.”
            “I’m wearing a tank top, I have broad shoulders, and it’s embarrassing, okay?” I snap, shocked at my mouth running off as if it was its own. If my mouth could just come back and connect with the rest of my body, especially my ing brain, that would be splendid.
            “So that’s what’s leading you to overheat and die?” he laughs. I roll my eyes and shake my head. Suddenly, the waiter comes and sets the bill on the table with a smile.
            “I’ll take it when you’re ready,” he says before walking off. I reach out for it, Jiyong’s hand touching mine. Our eyes meet, both of our brows furrowed.
            “What are you doing?” he asks, not moving his hand.
            “Are you blind? What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask. “Paying for the meal, duh.”
            “No, I’m going to pay.” he says.
            “No, you’re not.” I scoff. “I initiated this date, so I’ll pay.”
            He smirks. “So you agree that it’s a date?”
            “No!” I roll my eyes. “But you’re not paying for this meal.”
            He chuckles, attempting to brush my hand away. I don’t move it. “I’m the guy, I’m supposed to pay.”
            “You also live in the twenty-first century—”
            “Where chivalry still exists—“
            “Where women are allowed to have pride and dignity—“
            “Are you guys ready?” the waiter asks. Jiyong grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers firmly, slipping the bill out from under my hand with his other hand. I attempt to break loose, but find no escape. I rummage through my purse with my other hand and finding my wallet. I use my teeth to it, suddenly hearing Jiyong say, “Keep the change.” I look up to see him handing the bill to the waiter with one hand. I throw my wallet into my purse and roll my eyes. I pull my hand away from his and grab my purse, heading out. I can’t believe him.
            I walk out to see only a maximum of five girls waiting outside. Did we really eat for that long? I make my way past their squeals and giggles and head into my car. I take off my cardigan and throw it in the passenger seat. Damn, it was hotter than the Sahara Desert, and I’ve been to the Sahara Desert. I look at my hand, the same hand Jiyong grabbed. My throat started to tingle, my heart skipping every other beat. My eyes examined each fold my hands were born with, picturing his against it. Suddenly, there was a tap on my window. Kwon Jiyong. I roll my eyes and turn on my car, rolling the window down. “Those girls just asked if we went on a date.” he chuckles.
            “I hope you told them no.”
            “I didn’t reply.” he shrugs. I roll my eyes and shake my head. Everything he does makes me so mad!
            “I’m going now,” I say.
            “Let’s do this again sometime,” he smiles charmingly, backing away from the car. “And your shoulders are nice. I like them.”
            He walks off, leaving me with my jaw dropped. I really can’t believe him.
 

            I toss my purse on the floor and groan, crossing my arms as I begin to pace back and forth. “UGH!” Lulu picks my purse up and walks into my closet, coming back out a few moments after. She raises an eyebrow at me. I stare at her blankly (taste of your own medicine, too).
            “What’s wrong, Miss Aubrey?” she finally asks. Jeez, took you long enough. I throw my hands in the air.
            “He’s driving me insane.” I fill her in. “First, he pays for the meal, which is not okay. I initiated the date—whatever the hell it was—so I should pay for it, right?”
            “Well, in my country, it is normal for the guy to pay—“
            “Lu, in your country, there are not powerful women. I am a powerful woman. I am Aubrey Sinclair damn it!” I raise my voice. “Ugh, whatever! Anyways, he comes to my window after our da—meal, I mean, and says that the girls who were waiting outside asked if we were on a date. And he doesn’t even reply to them!”
            “Then what is the problem?” she asks. “He did not say no.”
            “But he didn’t say yes either!” I cross my arms again. “I mean, I did say that I hoped he told them that we weren’t on a date... But doesn’t he know to read between the lines?!”
            “Do you like him, Miss Aubrey?” Lulu smirks. I glare at her.
            “No,” I say, my throat going through a tingling sensation again. “But think about it Lu: Aubrey Sinclair and G-Dragon on a Date spreading everywhere on the Internet. Do you know how good that would make him look?!”
            She looks at me, a smirk still on her face. She picks up the books on the table and sets them back on the bookshelf. She glances over at me again. I roll my eyes and huff in irritation. “I can see you looking at me!” I scoff, flopping onto my bed. “I don’t like him!”
            The pit of my stomach churned. “I don’t think like him…”