*À demain matin - see you tomorrow morning
*Bonne nuit - goodnight
not really liking this chapter, but figured you guys deserved something xD comments are greatly appreciated! xx
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            It’s Friday—the day before the deadline. I watched everyone scatter around the room as I set my ice white mocha on the table. Some people were dripping with sweat—gross—and others were dripping with anxiety—fun. In the corner of my eye, I could see Linda working on her dress. She wasn’t dripping with sweat or anxiety, which kind of ticked me off. “Ah, hers is good, isn’t it?” Mr. DuBois says as he makes his way up to me.
            “Sure,” I say, taking my eyes off of her.
            “I’m excited to see yours. I want to see what the Aubrey Sinclair has up her sleeve.” he smiles at me. “Is it finished?”
            I give him a nod, picking up my drink. “It is!” I reply happily.
            “Are you modeling your dress?” a rude intruder asks as it makes its way up to us with a smile—Linda. I turn to her, giving her a fake smile.
            “I am, actually.” I reply.
            “I am, too!” she smiles. Oh believe me, I know. Your best friend told me all about it. I roll my eyes and turn back to face Mr. DuBois.
            “Am I free to leave?” I ask him. “I honestly just expected to come and check in since I’m already done.”
            He gives me a nod. “You may leave. À demain matin.” he says with a smile. I give him a smile and make my way out. I check my phone for the time. 12:47 PM.
            It’s Friday—the third day my phone has been silent. Well, technically not silent (Hyunjoong is still pushing me for ), but it’s not as noisy as usual. This is the third day I haven’t heard from or seen Jiyong. I continue to walk down the empty halls. I don’t know what’s up with him. I mean, frankly, I haven’t ever called or texted him, but he usually does those things to me. Maybe he’s sick and in the hospital. I compose a new text message and click on his name.
            Me: Are you okay?
            Jiyong: Why wouldn’t I be?
            Me: Just haven’t heard from you in a while. Anyways, got out of class early, want to hang out?
            Jiyong: I’m busy right now.
            Me: Okay… how about later on tonight?
            Jiyong: I’ll be busy.
            I toss my phone in my purse and roll my eyes. This is like déjà vu all over again—the first time we met. I don’t know what his deal is, but it’s really pissing me the off.

            “I just don’t understand what the hell is wrong with him!” I rant as I fall back onto my bed.
            “Maybe he is just too busy to do anything, Miss Aubrey.” Lulu shrugs. I sit up and glare at her.
            “No one is ever too busy for Aubrey Sinclair.” I retort. “Plus, he hasn’t contacted me in three days. He could’ve at least texted me with a ‘hi’ or something.”
            “Miss Aubrey, you don’t respond most of the time.” she says. I stare at her blankly, only to receive the same stare shot back toward me. I sigh.
            “I know, but it just would’ve been nice.” I admit. An old, dusty machine started running through my head again—one I left behind months ago once Hyunjoong and I signed a peace treaty. I look at Lulu, giving out a smirk. “Lu, find out where he lives.”
            She looks at me with wide eyes, her brows furrowing. “Miss Aubrey, you haven’t schemed in months!”
            “Lu,” I take a deep breath, rolling my eyes. “This isn’t scheming. This is just simply finding out if he’s lying to me or not.”
            “Yeah, yeah. That’s how it always starts.” I can hear her mumble.
            “Lu! Find out where he lives in the next hour or someone will be sent back to Greenland.” I threaten, hopping out of my bed.
            “Like I haven’t heard that one before,” I hear her mumble before I enter the bathroom. Ugh, she’s so rude sometimes.

            I bite my lip, crumpling up the post-it note I held between my fingers. I’ve managed to escape my house without any sort of paparazzi following me around and I’ve managed to learn how to use Google Maps (which is probably going to be my best friend). That’s a lot of work for a person to handle, and it would be a shame for it all to go to waste.
            But I’ve been standing here for two minutes, and I can’t bring myself to knock on the door. Come on Aub, grow some balls!
            Knock knock knock!
            Alright, well… I grew some balls. Now to play it cool.
            The door opens and Jiyong appears in front of me. In pajamas. I can feel my brows furrow. “So busy,” I scoff, pushing past him and entering his apartment. I’m only five steps in and I already feel lost. How is an apartment this big?
            “How did you find me?” he asks, closing the door behind him.
            “I’m Aubrey Sinclair,” I explain. I cross my arms and look at him, raising an eyebrow. “So you’d rather stay home like a hermit instead of going to hang out with me?”
            “Well, there’s currently a Running Man marathon going on so…” he says. I roll my eyes. I’ve never really watched Running Man, but it seems to be the hot thing in Korea. He walks past me, motioning me to follow him by the twitch of a finger. I huff out in frustration. I am not a dog.
            So I wait until he disappears. Then I trace his footsteps to his living area where he is turning the volume down on the TV (which is bigger than the one in my room and that makes me highly upset) before taking a seat on the couch. I examine his beautifully decorated living area. How modern.
            “So what are you doing here?” he asks.
            “Don’t get snippy with me.” I roll my eyes. I walk back and forth slowly. “And truth be told, I got bored so I wanted to hang out.”
            “But I told you I was busy.” he says, monotone.
            “Here’s the thing: I don’t trust you.” I say. I stop in my tracks and eye him up and down. “And you gave me more of a reason not to trust you. Busy my .”
            He gives off a little laugh, and then shrugs. “I just needed time to think.” he says. I raise an eyebrow at him.
            “About what?”
            He sighs, sinking back into the couch (and might I add that it looks really comfortable). He looks at me with weary eyes. “About us.” he replies, breaking the silence. My heart stops. “But there is no us.”
            I stay silent. He sits up straight, his arms on his knees. He plays with his hands before looking at me again. “I liked you,” he says. My brows furrow. “But then I just started realizing that I was chasing after someone who was a sprinter.”
            “So you just drop out of the race forever?” I ask, referring to the last three days he just suddenly became an unknown island. “Do you know how boring it’s been these past three days? Like I know I always found you annoying, but I’d rather have an annoying dragon than a hundred beautiful marble columns. At least the dragon talks.”
            He laughs, shaking his head. “Well, not forever. But I did need some time to think.” he says, giving out a charming smile at the end. “And I’m glad I took some time to think because I’ve finally come to a conclusion.”
            “Spill.”
            His head drops down and he focuses on playing with his hands again. “Something’s got to give, and clearly you’re not giving. There’s no point in chasing after someone who doesn’t feel the same way.” he says, still not looking up. My feet start to feel heavy. “I’ve put these thoughts through my head over and over again the past few days.” He looks up at me with a smile, dropping his hands. “And now that you’re here, it made me realize that I managed to get over you.”
            My arms feel weak. “That’s good,” I say. “Because I mean, I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to like someone and have them not feel the same way. Torturous, I would assume.”
            Everything is silent. I walk over and sit on the arm of his couch. I look at him who doesn’t meet my eyes. “I just don’t want you to leave.” I admit, breaking the silence. His eyes catch onto mine. I give him a little shrug, looking down at my fingers. I begin playing with them. “My entire life has been a revolving door. People walk in and out, and it’s tiring. Sometimes I just want to malfunction and never work again. Then maybe everyone would just get stuck and stay.”
            “What do you mean? You have lots of friends. Jiyeon, Trisha—“
            “Ha,” I let out, shaking my head. My eyes scan his living area again. “They aren’t friends. If anything, Hyunjoong is my only friend. Everyone else is just there. Because I’m Aubrey Sinclair.”
            He stays silent. I look back down at my fingers, limp and lifeless. “I guess even that has its downfalls.” I say. What are you saying? You’re Aubrey Sinclair. Why are you acting weak right now? I clear my throat and look up at him, giving him a little smile paired with a chuckle. “But friends don’t get you anywhere in life, so I guess they’re not important anyways.”
            “Is that so?” he asks with a little tease in his voice. “So are you saying we can’t be friends?”
            “I’m saying you won’t be important,” I reply.
            “That hurts,” he teases, putting his hand over his heart. He gives off a little laugh before sinking back into the couch. “But I’ll take what I can get.” I furrow my eyebrows at him, a little confused. His eyes grab onto mine as he flashes a charming smile. “You can consider yourself malfunctioned.”

            My entire body felt weak—I was exhausted. Jiyong gave me a tour of his apartment before I left (and yes, his closet was actually bigger than mine; I was a tad bit upset, but I did see the Rolex watch I gave him sitting beside his other watches). I make my way toward the stairs, stopping in my tracks once I see two people sitting on the couch beside the fireplace. “Oh, you’re home.” my mother says, giving me a smile.
            “Right back at you…” I say before she could say any more. “Both.” I look at my father, even more confused. They haven’t been home at—I look at the time; 10:49 PM—night since Christmas.
            “Where did you go?” my father asks.
            “Kwon Jiyong’s.” I reply. My mother gasps.
            “As in G-Dragon?” she asks. “Sit! Come talk about it!”
            I keep my eye on them—my mother who looks completely interested in what I have to say next, and my father who looked at my mother like she was psychotic—as I take a seat on the chaise across from them. The fire was warm against my skin. “Are you guys dating?” my mother asks, as if she was a teenager in high school who wanted to know all of the gossip. I scrunch my face up in disgust.
            “No, never.” I reply. “That’s gross. We’re just friends.”
            My stomach starts to churn and feel… weird. I sit up straight and brush it off. The salad from lunch was probably catching up to me—I hated salads, but I had to scarf it down. I had a dress to fit in tomorrow!
            “Right, right.” my father says in disbelief. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Did you guys have ?”
            My mouth drops. Did my own father really just ask me that? “No!” I gasp. “Can you just stop being a guy for a minute? Dear God!”
            My parents laugh, gradually causing me to laugh. Our harmonic laughing reminded me of the laughs Jiyong and I shared, and that reminded me of the dinner conversation Jiyong and I had a few nights ago. The back of my throat starts to tingle. I look over at the family portrait we had painted back when I was five. We were standing on a bridge with the beautiful city lights behind us. It covered almost half of the wall. “We’ve had that picture since I was a little girl.” I say, nostalgic of the time. We were so happy. My mother would make the perfect breakfast in the mornings, and occasionally my father would make his horrible omelets when he was feeling lucky enough for them to finally come out right (he just always assumed that if the outside looked cooked, the inside was too). But I guess that’s what popularity gets you: early morning work calls, busy day schedules, and even busier late night schedules.
            Because now we’re just a mother, a father, and a daughter—Evelyn Sinclair, Donovan Sinclair, and Aubrey Sinclair.
            My parents look behind him to see the picture on the wall. “It’s my favorite,” my father says. He turns back and I can see a smile on his face. “Wouldn’t sell it for billions.”
            “If its one thing I missed about New York, it would be the city lights.” my mother said, turning around. She takes a deep breath. “Seoul is home for me and all, but it just doesn’t compare.”
            The back of my throat tingles again. I clear it, returning my attention back to them. “How did we end up in New York?” I ask. I lean back into the chaise and give a little laugh. “I mean someone who came from Seoul and another who came from Paris somehow meet and then have a child in New York? There are blanks to be filled.”
            They both chuckle and look at one another. My mother leans her head onto my father’s shoulder as he intertwines their fingers. My father clears his throat. “Well, when I was twenty-five, my boss gave me an opportunity to go stay in New York to work with Augustus “Gus” Rhone, one of the best photographers I’ve ever met in my entire life. At the time, however, I didn’t know a single thing about it. It was a big step for me and it took me a while to think about—I mean, I was basically going to go to New York to live and work with a stranger. But after consulting with my parents, I decided to take the offer. So I packed my bags and headed for New York. The first day I got there, I met with Gus and he gave me a tour of New York. By the second day, he already had a job set up for me to test out my skills for himself—a photo shoot with Evelyn Choi. It was the whole cliché love at first sight moment.”
            I give out a little smile, my heart feeling warm. “Wait, why were you in New York?” I ask my mother.
            “Well, I had already established a career in Korea when I was twenty-three—I was Korea’s youngest fashion designer. I wanted to try to break through to the American market, but of course if that didn’t work out, I could’ve always fallen back onto the Korean market.” she explains. I nod understandingly. Things are starting to make sense now.
            “And eventually she got to do both,” he smiles at her.
            “But I couldn’t have done it without you.” my mother smiles back. “We’re the perfect team.”
            My heart exploded with rainbows, my entire body left in awe. I look at my two parents who looked at one another with eyes full of love. They were the perfect love story—a blessing. I hope one day something like that could happen to me.
            “Well, I would like to thank you for the perfect bedtime story.” I say as I stand up. I go over and give them a hug, receiving a kiss on the cheek from both of them.
            “Goodnight, Aub.” my mother smiles.
            “Bonne nuit!” my father says, messing up my hair. I roll my eyes playfully and push him lightly.
            “Goodnight.” I smile at them before heading over to the staircase. Suddenly, the question I’ve been swallowing down for the past week crawls up my throat. I freeze in my tracks and turn back around. “Um, before I forget…”
            My parents look back at me. I straighten my position and clear my throat. “There’s going to be a first annual fashion show tomorrow on campus, and everyone in the fashion design class is making something for it.” I explain. “I’m going to model my dress tomorrow and was just wondering if you guys could make it…”
            Their expressions don’t change. “I mean, if you guys are busy I completely understand, after all it’s just a stupid fashion show by unprofessional fashion designers who are still in college and don’t even know what the real fash—“
            My mother chuckles, causing me to stop talking. “I’ll be there. I’m excited to see what you have to put on the catwalk.”
            “Man, I don’t know…” my father sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Fashion shows just aren’t my thing.”
            “He’ll be there, too.” my mother says, pushing him down on the couch. I give off a little laugh and nod once.
            “Alright,” I smile. “Goodnight. Love you.
            “Love you, too.” I hear them both say in unison as I make my way toward the staircase.

            I hop onto my bed and cuddle within the blankets. I grab my phone and bite my lip. It would be nice to have him there. After all, he could see that I scratched off our original design and came up with something completely different, and better! I compose a text message.
            Me: Come to the fashion show tomorrow.
            Kwon Jiyong: K.
            I lock my phone and take a deep breath. My stomach starts to feel weird again. I’m never eating a salad ever again.