“Happy birthday Taeyeon-ah!” My sister cries out, right before she jumps on my bed and quashes my ovaries. Great, I wasn’t thinking of having kids anyway, I lament groggily.

            “Hyoyeon! Get off your sister.” Mother orders. She walks into my room behind Father, holding an ominously wrapped gift behind her back. Everyone is dressed for the day except me. Yay.

            “Yeah, get off me fatty.” I grumble, steadying myself on one hand as I sit up in my bed. It’s an uncomfortably empty double queen, even with my entire family taking up seats around me. “Don’t spoil my only eighteenth birthday.”

            “Hey! I’m still thinner than you. Especially after that cheeseburger you practically inhaled last night.” Hyoyeon retorts cheaply.

            “I’d been out walking all day!”

            “Girls.” Mother coos, calming the both of us down before we strangle each other again (yes, it has happened before). I adjust my bra strap beneath my singlet, which has nearly slipped off during the night, trying in the very least not to flash my family on my first day of ‘adulthood’.

           “Happy birthday dear.” Father congratulates, although I’m not entirely sure how I feel about today.

            “Thanks Father.” I say with half a mind to fall back asleep.

            “Here’s one of your presents.” My mother says, handing me my gift with a sweet smile. The box is just larger than my hand, and  I can feel the hard box beneath the shop-quality wrapping. They must have had it wrapped when they bought it, because the thought of either of my parents picking up a pair of scissors and wrapping paper is simply preposterous. I rip the studious, crinkly paper into shreds before flicking the lid off the box open to reveal a stunning gold watch. It’s Guess. It’s expensive. Mother will get a thank you for picking it out. Father will get a thank you for paying. He’ll also expect something in return.

            “Thank you both, it’s beautiful.” I was sincere with my smile and my thanks, but just too tired to have my tone match.

           “Don’t mention it.” With Father, he often meant it, but now I’m not sure if that would ever be the case. “I’m already late for a meeting, but have a wonderful day Taeyeon. See you tonight.” He kisses me on the forehead and I wave him goodbye, before he walks out my room and off to work. Again.

            “Your other presents are in the main room, so shower and get ready. We can’t keep the tailors waiting.” Mother informs me ambiguously, before toddling off out of the room herself. Wait, tailors?

            “Lucky Taeyeon-ah gets a nice tailored dress for tonight!” Hyoyeon beams, though it’s no secret she’s jealous. The girl is an obvious tomboy by attitude, but she is the girliest girl I know, and I went to an all-girls school. Only the most prestigious education for the eldest daughter and successor to the Kim Corporation. She will go on to attend only the most expensive and world-renowned of universities. Expectations, I sigh. The other edge of the sword of turning eighteen; the ball. I knew once I came of age, I’d be expected to take the role of corporate socialite alongside Mother. Despite how ‘fun’ it all sounded, I worry for Hyoyeon. It’ll be two more years until she graduates, and those were two years she will have to spend the majority of alone. Between my university studies in the day and dining out nearly every night, there would be little time for us to spend together. I don’t know how I would have gotten to this point without the support of my sister, and now she’s facing the last two years of it alone.

            “Yeah, I guess I’m lucky that way.” I sighed, not at all excited about two strangers stripping me bare and cutting material over my skin. Thankfully, I would find they would simply take my measurements, ask me a few questions and then hurry back to their little shop and begin the magic.

I shower in my en suite bathroom briefly, before I am expected to brave the tailors. There is a gift basket beside the sink of imported bath salts and associated bathing paraphernalia. I don’t think much of it until I opened one of the body washes to the smell of peaches. I like the smell of peach, and was warmed by the thought put into my gift, even if it was just picking a flavor. I emerge with my underwear on beneath a white towel wrapped over my middle, vigorously drying my hair with a second black towel. Two short ladies turned to face me, their cheeks b with radiant smiles at the sight of me.

            “Every bit as beautiful as the photos of you in the newspaper my dear.” One of them says, holding a pair of scissors with terrifying anticipation in her poise.

            “Thanks?” I was aware of the tabloid headline, Successor to Kim Corporation graduates! Her next move?, but thought little of it. I'm surprised someone actually wrote that article; it's not like I've done anything out of the ordinary except go to school.

            “Taeyeon, these ladies are going to tailor make your dress for the picking this evening.” The picking is a tradition still held in high regard amongst the business elite today. It’s a convenient way to marry off your children and make any prospective inter-corporation business relations much smoother. I’m not excited for either this dress fitting or the prospect of marriage within a compacted society of bluebloods. Maybe I just want to go to a bar, get drunk, meet a garage-band rock star and get drunk couple tattoos. Was that too much to ask? Apparently.

            “Alright, let’s get started then.” With all respect to these lovely ladies, there is no way I am going to enjoy today. We all sit down on the couches, the leather sticking to my itchy, two-day-regrowth thighs like a bad rash (which I am sure is there, whether I can see it or not). The ladies ask what sort of dress I want. I’ve seen past picking time dresses, and I definitely want it to be as gorgeous as those, but mobile above all else. I like chiffon and lace, and a light sort of color wouldn’t hurt I guess. From my Neanderthal-like description, the ladies seem to have their heart set on a dress between the both of them. They pull out a briefcase full of material colors and patterns, showing me samples that I pick an array of to make a dress from. My selection is quite limited. It's a whole lot of off-white and colors from the sepia-beige spectrum. Mother thanks them for their time before they quickly hurry off to have my dress made by tonight. I wait nervously, going straight for the jumbo box of pepero I have stashed beneath my desk, only to find it missing.

            “HYOYEON!” I roar. I’m skinny, but if you come between my food and I, you will find yourself eaten as a substitute.

           “It wasn’t Hyoyeon. I found your ‘secret’ stash of food.” Mother informs me disapprovingly. “You need to be in full form for tonight, so no snack foods. You’ll get a proper meal today at lunch, before going for a full body wax appointment, a manicure and pedicure and then off to the hair salon.” She hands me two boxes I assume to be part of this wonderful package deal of presents. “And now that the bad news is over, I think these will match your dress wonderfully.” She smiles. In the first box, a thin gold chain with seven petit pearls knotted equidistantly from each other. “It’s symbolic of you. It’s light, simple and elegant.” I’m more awake now, so my thank you is more sincere, this time with a matching expression and tone. The second box contains a thin gold ring with macroscopic diamonds set along the top. It matches a series of other rings I have just like it, as Mother knows I like to make a collection of them over my fingers. I put the jewelry aside to give her a well-deserved hug.

            “Thank you so much Mother.” I’m almost teary for absolutely no reason, but I don’t try and fight it. Tonight could be fun after all.

The waxing was without a doubt, the most painful experience of my life. I didn’t even know I had belly fluff until these ladies so kindly tore it from my body with their various devices of torture. I was however, happy to be rid off the hedgehog regrowth on the back of my thighs, at least until my next appointment. I was self-conscious about the pedicure, but comforted by the fact the woman handling my feet said they were very dainty. Only briefly did I wonder how much Mother might have paid her to say that. The manicure wasn’t bad, only long and drawn out. The smells of all the gaudy polishes soon got to me, and on several occasions I had to step outside for a breath of fresh air. By the time the ladies were done, I had perfectly shaped and filed nails with a simple French manicure painted over the top. Never before have I felt so clean, yet undignified. The final stop was the hair salon, a dreaded location since my childhood. I’d gotten by these last five years simply lopping off my own locks with the ends began to split, so I didn’t know how the kind man might react to my disgusting bird’s nest now. I left it haphazardly tied in a bun on top of my head, but even then it seemed to look worse than all the ulzzang girls I’d seen online who looked clean and refreshed with their buns.

            “Chop it all off.” My mother ordered him, making sliding gestures above her shoulders before I was whisked away to a hair-washing station. The poor trainee they assigned to me had a terrifying time unknotting my hair, and I kept apologizing to her, even after I left the salon. By the time they got it dry, the man I’d met earlier did as my Mother’s exorbitant bank account had instructed, giving my sun-golden hair a cut just on the shoulders with a side fringe to match. It looked fresh and silky, and felt lightly over my skin. Maybe a small amount of effort each day wouldn’t hurt my looks. He sent me home with two small bottles and told me to use one in the shower (it was a conditioner, something he figured out I'd stopped using) and the other to run through the ends of my hair when it had dried. I kept his advice in mind when I would shower this evening. He obviously felt for my plight against vanity, as there was many a hair product my mother tried to convince him to give to me. This was one problem her bankcard would not magically solve; the power of coconspirators.

            “How was your beauty day?” Hyoyeon asks, hopping around me as I walk back into our 20^th floor penthouse. She’s got study marks on her cheeks, and I’m not surprised she’s baying for another human to talk to. I remember those days almost fondly. Those were days I didn’t have to have my dignity stripped off of my body with boiling wax.

            “It was exhausting.” I groan, falling on the couch with my face in a pillow. My sister sounds genuinely concerned for my wellbeing, as she sits by my side and my new haircut.

            “But you look hot.” She says, following with y tiger noises. I laugh in my pillow before coming up for air.

            “Taeyeon, the tailors will be here soon, I’m going to freshen up. Hyoyeon, get back to your studies as soon as you can, okay?” Mother walks off to the master bedroom and leaves us to gossip.

            “You really do look beautiful Sis.” Hyoyeon grins, running a hand through my hair. “So smooth!”

            “Thanks.” I simper. Truth be told, I’m exhausted, but I guess if this is how my life is going to be, I need to make time for my sister, in spite of my own stamina (or lack thereof). “Look at what they did to my nails!” I hold them out, proud at how clean and neat they are.

            “Oooh!” We marvel together at the many aspects of my body that are different (even my thighs), chatting excitedly about the dinner tonight. Hyoyeon gets to come, but it’s a once-off deal until she comes of age herself. Father knows her well; she would jump at the chance to drink if the opportunity presented itself.

            “So, hoping to score some rich husband tonight?” She winks, to which I cover my mouth in terror. Today was so jam-packed full of appointments I hadn’t given any thought to the hopeful outcome of tonight.

            “Oh god, Mom and Dad aren’t expecting a son-in-law are they?” I’m horrified. I’m a lesbian. I haven’t told anyone other than Hyoyeon. In today’s day and age, it’s really not a big deal, but I’ve heard Mom praying for grandchildren next to her at church practically every Sunday.

            “Relax. They’d prefer a son-in-law, but I think as long as she’s rich, they’ll consider a daughter instead.” I don’t know why my parent’s opinion suddenly matters so much. When this day came, I swore I’d only marry a woman, no matter what my parents said, and my abrupt wave of doubt nearly scares me out of my confidence. Before I can say anything, Mother buzzes in the tailors, who are escorted to our door with my dress in a clear plastic bag. Mother and Hyoyeon lose their breath as soon as it rolls in the door. We’re all distracted by the masterpiece they have sewn together in nothing but a few hours. The ladies look exhausted. Even I have nothing to say, I’m that stunned.

“It’s beautiful…” Hyoyeon almost laments. When I take over the company, I think to myself, I’ll buy Hyoyeon dresses like this every week. She looks so enamored by the dress, I have half a mind to just give it to her, but even I want to keep it. It’s a paling sepia dress with capped sleeves. It has a chiffon upper half with intricate pearly lacework that stops at the waist, which is pinched in accordance with my supposed hourglass figure. The bottom half is made up of short bits of material that unfurl like rose petals and stops dead on the top of my knees. It’s short and mobile, just as I asked it to be, but I’m worried it will be viewed as… desperate.

            “It’s perfect.” Mother comments, clasping her hands together, ecstatic. For her, today has gone without a hitch, and it will, until she realizes she’ll have to order two white dresses for my wedding. Screw that, I’ll wear the suit.

            “Are you sure it isn’t too…” Where my vocabulary fails, my teenage sister is more than willing to fill in the blank.

            “ty?” She adds. I scowl at her, but it’s the perfect word.

            “Oh nonsense, the only thing that sparks a quick marriage is love and dynamite , which you don’t get wearing a ball gown.” Mother says, I think in an attempt to comfort me (not sure it’s working though).

            “But all the dresses from previous pickings are all long and beautiful!” I almost protest, in spite of myself.

            “But were those the ones who got married? No. Did you see the Kawamura Co. boy last year? That midriff shirt was so skimpy it got him married to the eldest son of Inagawa Industries. There’s the true story behind that particular takeover.” I was honestly surprised by the history lesson, but not by the marriage. That Kawamura boy has the body of a god, and the same goes for the Inagawa boy. It was the marriage that took the tabloids by storm, even here in Korea, though many businesses like Kim Corporation have many dealings, if not as much in Japan as it does in Korea.

            “Come on!” Hyoyeon says, punching me in the shoulder without remorse. “Try it on!”

            “Ow! Okay, geez.”

            “Hyoyeon! Don’t bruise your sister.” Mother says, rushing to my side, worriedly. “She’ll be ugly and no one will want to marry her. Now where did she hit you?” Thanks for the support Mother, I sigh.

The dress fits perfectly (no surprise) but the most amazing thing was how comfortable it was. It didn’t feel like a burden to wear, and when I spin around quickly enough, it’s like wearing a cloud. The capped sleeves are almost translucent, as they also float on top of my shoulders.

            “I love it.” I say to myself, smiling at my figure in the sliding mirror doors to my walk in wardrobe. Mother comes in my room with a pair of shoes I recognized in an instant.

            “Courtesy of your father.” She says. They’re Chanel. They’re the beige quilted leather pumps I’ve been eying online for months now. Father may be distant, but he knows my taste and probably guessed the color of my dress would match. He definitely has high expectations of me tonight. These are expensive shoes. Sigh.

            “I’ll thank him tonight.” I say, grinning as I take the works of art in my hands. Just holding them is privilege enough; wearing them on the other hand, is an entirely new experience. They match my dress perfectly, and I’m surprised how my outfit has fallen together so wonderfully. Am I this predictable? I adjust my s, which are rather uncomfortable as I’ve been forced into an ‘invisi-bra’; something I wished had never been invented. It goes against the laws of nature. The neck of my dress is fairly rounded and wide, and Mother thinks a , strapless display of my collarbones will make the boys go wild. I just hope it makes the girls go just as wild.

            “Man, look who’s smoking hot!” Hyoyeon comments. She herself is looking drop dead gorgeous. She wears a tightly fitted onyx dress that tapers into a single strip over her right shoulder and stops well before her knees. Her platinum blonde hair is in an elegant ponytail, without a single stray hair, and her make up is impeccable, not to mention, self-done. Her black wedge heels make her the same height as me as she puts an arm over my shoulder, as if to say ‘Aren’t we y ladies?’. Her nails are a demonic black, whilst her lips are a plump red and I’m jealous of how much prettier she is than me, not that she isn’t the pretty one by default.

I stick with leaving my hair as it was from the salon after another shower, paying the hair stylist’s instructions with great heed as I comb the exotic liquids through my hair. In the shower I also take the chance to paint my body in even more peach, as well as a generous amount of body butter when my skin dries. I decide to leave my lips plain. The dress is y enough, and I’m expected to maintain a certain air of reservation as the successor to Kim Corporation. I put on my plethora of gold diamond rings; one on my left middle finger and my right index finger, two on my right middle finger and my left index finger and today's addition to the team on my right thumb. The gold string of minimalist pearls complements my hair, rings and dress so perfectly my sister calls me a goddess, which makes me blush profusely. Hyoyeon does my make up as well, using a powder palette identical to my own complexion, but simply building on my features and doing things with contouring that I couldn’t even dream of. She makes my cheeks look radiant and streamline, something I never thought possible. I do my own eyeliner, as it is one form of makeup I do not believe can be done in excess.

            “Say cheese!” Mother says as we stand arm in arm, holding our clutch purses and smiling, Hyoyeon charismatic as always, whilst I feel like wildlife caught in headlights. We look like Yin and Yang, tinged with Hyoyeon’s defiant scarlet lipstick and my shimmering golden hair. With Hyoyeon by my side (and nearly towering over me), I feel much better about tonight.

The entire Hyatt hotel is booked out for this evening. Respected businessmen, specifically from the Southeast Asia region, have chipped in thousands to book this hotel as the fortress by which relationships will be consummated, business alliances broken and formed, and most importantly for me, where an all-expense-paid dinner would be prepared for me, with any dessert I want. I planned on starting with profiteroles, as soon as social obligation dictated Mother to flock to the table where all of the socialite wives and husbands eventuated. Mother swore by this occurrence, and sure enough, the gossip beckoned her away, allowing me to order whatever I wanted, in spite of Mother’s warnings about my weight. Father didn’t care so much about my eating habits, as long as it was small, which at hotels of this expense, was the only size you could order. That was unless, you were ordering a steak. I’ll have to save one of those bad boys for after my profiteroles.

            “Over there is the Kawamura’s second eldest son, Akira. Steer clear of him, I don’t want to end up another Inagawa.” Father warns me. Starting with the sons, I see. “Over there is Jeon Hyerin. This is her third picking, with as many divorces. Her mother Dohee is one mean businesswoman, and will do anything to make Kim Corporation a subsidiary of her empire.” I knew of Jeon Dohee. She made a passing remark about my weight the second I walked in. I vow to crush her when I ascend to CEO. “That boy there though,” Father says, pointing to a heartbreakingly innocent boy alone at a table, “is the first son of Haneul Inc. His younger brother has already married, but Sungmin is still single. Keep him as your back up card.”

            “Father, that’s awful!” I may have spoken out of turn, but I wasn’t about to play off of this man’s loneliness just for the future of Kim Corporation, no matter how much I value the company. I may not be one for social palaver, but I am genuinely determined to outdo Father in terms of business.

            “That’s how tonight is played Taeyeon.” He enforces.

            “Well, what about you and mother?”

            “Mother and I got married and together we made something of Kim Corporation. Those were different times Taeyeon, and I do wish you lived then as well. I find this picking business fowl, but I’ve seen these children from birth to where they are now, just like you. Many of them are wonderful people.” One particular person catches my eye from across the room. I see her staring at me while Father continues his marriage counseling, and she keeps making glances at me. She doesn’t look like she thinks very highly of me, despite the both of us being at this fancy soirée. I leave half of my profiteroles untouched as Father continues on about eligible bachelor and bachelorettes of this evening, but I stay transfixed at the wondrous woman across the room. Her cool brunette hair is tied up in an ethereal waterfall of undulating curls behind her, and a front fringe entertains her voluptuous eyelashes, which beat like butterfly wings when she blinks. Her lipstick is a deeper crimson in comparison to Hyoyeon’s lips, and compliments her dress perfectly. It’s a twilight-sky blue, conforming to her subtle chest and her delicate hips. She's wearing black stockings, which I see from the slit in the side of her dress when she turns in her seat to greet a gentleman who asks her to dance. She declines, and I’m relieved. “Taeyeon!” Father snaps hushedly, which takes my attention away from the woman and back to my right.

            “Huh?”

            “Were you even listening to me?” He grumbles. “Argh, of course not.” He’s about to scold me further when a strapping young man comes to my side and shuts him up with his presence. I shiver in my Chanel pumps. I don't want a husband. Make him and his manly bits go away.

            “Mr. Kim, lovely to see you again.” He smiles. It’s beautiful but I’m not interested. He has a , I don’t need one of those thanks. I’ll have a test tube baby. Or better yet, adopt. That way I can keep this figure I’ve just found out I had.

            “Changmin, how wonderful to see you as well. This is my daughter Taeyeon.” He introduces us, and we shake hands, but I think he can feel my fingers trembling in their rings. I brush my hair out of my eyes nervously and clear my throat, but Changmin speaks first.

            “It’s a pleasure.”

            “Please, do take a seat. My other daughter seems to have run off again.”

            “Yes, I did dance with young Hyoyeon earlier this evening. My has she grown beautifully.” He comments. My nerves turn to steel with rage. That’s my ing sister you e, don’t you even think of touching her you or I’ll give you something to ing– “But not as lovely as you Taeyeon.” His use of my name catches me off guard. Honestly, I don’t know what to feel anymore. I try to be angry but I’m too startled. “Is this your first season?” I nod, my nerves melting again and I can feel my knees tremble. “Personally, this is my second, but–”

            “I’m sorry excuse me.” I speak so fast I’m surprised the words came out at all. I rush of to the bathroom with my nails dug into my clutch. My sister sees me through the crowd, and I obviously look awful because she comes rushing to my side when I reach the bathroom.

            “Are you okay Sis?” She asks, holding my shoulder calmingly.

            “Did that boy touch you inappropriately?” I wheeze.

            “What boy? Which one?”

            “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHICH ONE?!” I almost hyperventilate as I screech.

            “Okay~ wrong question.”

            “The tall one with the sandy-blond mid part and the stunning smile.” I’m quivering in my shoes now and my sister holds my shoulders in case I fall.

            “Oh Changmin. No, he’s a perfect gentleman. We danced for a while before he bought me a really delicious fruit mocktail and we chatted a while. He's the only guy who didn't keep asking me about you, Miss Popularity.” My knees immediately quelled their tremors. I was relieved. My sister was still a and I was out of the way of any man, but not of trouble. Just as I straightened out my self and took in a deep breath, I see the woman walk in the rest room, setting her handbag down beside me and going through it to find her makeup. It’s a nice handbag; a blue that matches her dress with tropical flowers in red and yellow over it, balanced with the vivid green of leaves. Somehow, it seems to contradict her seemingly somber posture. I look from her bag to her face, and our eyes lock in what feels like a small century. “I’m gonna go grab a drink.” Hyoyeon excuses herself. She knows what’s going through my head.

            “Hello.” The woman smiles, before turning to the mirror to give her pouting lips a touch-up. I can’t take my eyes off her. I want to grab her soft jawline and undo all the lipstick she is putting on. She obviously sees me staring, as she tries to make conversation. “Is this your first picking?” She asks, swapping out her lipstick for eyeliner but, in all honesty, her eye makeup was so beautiful, it was like her lashes– , I don’t even know where I’m going with that particular metaphor. They’re gorgeous, okay.

            “Uh– yes. I turned eighteen today actually.” I blush, but I don’t think you can see it passed my makeup. Thank you Hyoyeon.

            “Oh, well then a happy birthday is in order.” She smiles. She finishes up her make up, but instead of packing her handbag and leaving, she merely wraps her glittering blue nail varnish over the counter and puts the back of her waist against the counter top. I wanted to be that countertop so badly. At present, I was about as animate as the countertop. When I failed to respond, she propelled the conversation further. “You know, I really don’t like this whole picking business.” She sighs. That snapped my nerves into gear. It was a relief to find a kindred spirit in the girl I’d been silently ing on most of tonight.

            “Me too, I wish I had been born just a day later so I could wait until next year.” I admitted, mimicking her stance against the counter top and getting a few inches closer to her. “Maybe pinch enough of Father’s money to elope somewhere.”

            “I tried that once.” She admitted with a smile. I was surprised, someone of our caliber attempting something as dangerous as running away. “Didn’t work. Daddy has ties with many an agency abroad, so there really wasn’t anywhere I could go. But it’s not all bad,” she grins, “free food, right?”

            “Right!” I smile, and we both laugh before a soothing silence ensues. All my tension seeps out of my shoulders as we stand their, all dolled-up, without a care for tonight. The moment is not to last, as my mother storms in the bathroom, clearly catching wind of my behavior in front of the ert from Father.

            “Kim Taeyeon! How dare you leave that nice young man back there– Oh, hello.” She smiles after her dragon-like rampage. “My name is Kim Jiweon, I’m Taeyeon’s mother.”

            “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Kim.” The woman smiles.

            “You must be the lovely Miss Hwang. Your mother said this was your first season.” Mother is a particularly adept socialite. I hope to follow more on the side of Father in aspects of business, not gossip.

            “It is, though I’m worried what embarrassing stories that woman’s mouth might have run off to!” Her smile. Her cute giggle. The way her eyes look so alive. She might as well have held my heart in her hands. Mother seems to like her; points scored.

            “Oh don’t worry, my lips are sealed. Though I can’t say the same for that Jeon Dohee, my word that lady will go to any length for business.”

            “Her poor husband, I can only imagine how overshadowed he must feel sometimes.” She shook her head delicately, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of absolutely every aspect of her beauty. She certainly is socially adept, whereas I’m fairly socially inept. Well, only around boys who e on my sister and beautiful women like this Miss Hwang.

            “I think I should be checking on your sister.” She says, looking to me briefly. “It was a pleasure meeting you Miss Hwang.” Mother says with a final shake of hands.

            “Please, call me Tiffany, Mrs. Kim.”

            “Oh well in that case, call me Jiweon.” The sentiment was strictly courtesy; if any of us were to call any prospective bachelorette’s mother by her given name, we would be hung by our feet and bludgeoned to death with designer shoes. Mother leaves the two of us, and I now have the confidence to stand straight and act more mature around Tiffany.

            “I guess introductions won’t be necessary.” I smile.

            “Well out of courtesy, I’m Tiffany Hwang.” She holds out her hand.

            “I’m Kim Taeyeon, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I feel awkward sounding so formal. As I take her hand, she pulls me forward and kisses my cheek. It’s like having your skin touched by heaven itself. I don’t know if I can recover, but I hold my cheek delicately as if to preserve the holy skin. Would it be creepy if I never washed my face ever again?

            “The pleasure is mine.” She takes my hand and I fumble to grab my clutch (it has my phone in it). “Why don’t you come and join my table? I’m sure the two of us together, alone should turn away some all of those groveling men. Oh my gosh!” She stops before the door and takes both of my hands, and I’m certain I’m about to faint. “I haven’t told anyone that I’m…”

            “A lesbian?” I interject. “I haven’t told anyone either. Aside from my younger sister.” I hope my calm, collected smile eases her anxiety, and by the relaxation of her delicate frame, I suspect so.

            “Oh good, then I hope we can keep each other’s secrets.” She grins. God, she is heavenly. I don’t think she expects anything other than my trust, as she leaves the conversation there while we go and sit at her table. Father eyes me from across the room as I did Tiffany minutes before, and he seems satisfied, in spite of my previous outburst.

            “So which one is your sister?” Tiffany asks. She puts her elbow over the back of her seat and looks behind her. I leave her question unanswered for a few seconds and I steal a glance at her magnificent body. I’d so love to just tear open her dress right now–

            “She’s the tramp in the black dress and bleach-blonde hair.” I answer cleverly, which makes Tiffany giggle cutely. Mission accomplished.

            “Ah, I see her now. She’s stunning. Isn’t that Shim boy lucky?” I don’t know to whom she is referring, until I crane my neck past her, only to find

            “ert!” slow-dancing my sister around the waist. She seems content, but then again, that hunk has his body pressed against her. I stand to make a scene, but Tiffany, sensing my anger, puts her hands over mine, which causes me to melt back into my seat. It’s hard to be angry with a beautiful woman touching me.

            “Don’t worry, he’s a perfect gentleman.” So I’ve been told. “I actually think your sister might have a slight crush on him!” I make a face that makes Tiffany chuckle again. I almost slam my face in the table. I will admit my own fault; I absolutely cannot face the idea of my sister with a boyfriend. In my mind, none of them will ever be good enough for her.

            “I can’t handle this.” I admit.

            “Waiter,” Tiffany calls, and a striking young man comes rushing to her side. I couldn't tell if his cheeks were red from being hurried or a possible crush on Tiffany, so I was wary of just where his eyes were focusing. “Could we have two glasses of champagne please?” I was interested in where she was going with two glasses of champagne, and the anticipation between her order and when the glasses arrived was almost unbearable. “To us.” She toasts.

            “Us?” I ask. I’m only more confused by her proposition.

            “Two ladies of the elite, who really couldn’t give less of a damn about it all.” She clangs her glass against mine, and we both take a sip. Her lipstick leaves a reminiscent crimson mark on the lip of the glass, whilst mine just leaves a soppy little wet patch behind. If it weren’t for Tiffany, I wouldn’t notice the music change from a pleasant classical beat to that of a slower, more intimate note. “I uhm…” Tiffany starts, but she looks childishly embarrassed, anxiously digging her hands between her thighs (where I would like to be) and looking down at the table. I wait eagerly for her to finish her sentence, but I worry if my enthusiasm is putting her off. That is, until she manages to finish speaking. “I know it’s quite spontaneous but, may I have this dance Kim Taeyeon?” She looks proud as her gaze breaks from the table and meets my now stunned eyes. She keeps a brave, genial smile as her butterfly lashes beat nervously. Honestly, I’m stunned.

            “Yes.” I answer quickly, nervous that the song will end before we get a chance to stand up. “I mean, I’d be honored, Tiffany.” I rise and hold my hand out for hers, which she takes into her own smooth hands. She must moisturize, because her hands are wonderful to hold. I take the lead on the way to the crowd of already slow dancers. There are some mixed couples and some same- couples, but by now I regain my fresh, rebellious confidence. I turn to face my lovely partner, and maintain my prima lead by taking her waist with my left hand (I’ve been waiting to do that all night) and lacing our fingers together with my right hand. She puts her free hand around to my shoulder blade, and the very fact she is touching me of her own volition is reason enough for me to celebrate with a grin. I start us off by moving my feet and whisking Tiffany along with me. For the entire dance, our eyes never leave the others. The ends of her lips tighten in a sensual smile, and unknowingly, we both drift closer and closer in until I can feel the fabric of her dress tickle my knees. Throughout the dance I catch the eye of my sister, who cheers me on with a vivacious smile, before her face is replaced by Changmin’s as he twirls her in his hands. She really does look happy. Mother also looks over at me from my seat next to Father, and they look nothing but pleased. I think they’ve caught on that a son-in-law by me is out of the question. Tiffany comes to a standstill as the mood of the song picks up with a change of music. I’m not impressed that the song didn’t last longer, but I figure it was my own indecisiveness that brought this down on me. Tiffany is the one to lead me back to our seats this time, and we both return to sipping our champagne and chatting.

            “Where did you learn to dance?” She muses, clearly impressed by my abilities. I’m proud, and maybe my hubris gets the better of me.

            “I took lessons. Though my mother will attest, I didn’t go willingly.” She giggles again, and I can’t suppress a smile as we share a seemingly intimate glance. It’s not to last, as suddenly family members begin flocking to us. I think our dance caught quite the attention.

            “Taeyeon-ah!” My sister protests, pulling Changmin along by the hand. Somehow, I think he is carefully playing the doll for my sister tonight. “Are you gonna introduce us?” Tiffany then takes the social reigns as my jaw quivers nervously.

            “Hi, I’m Tiffany Hwang.” She says, holding out a hand, though she doesn’t bother to stand.

            “Hi, I’m Hyoyeon,” She says, looking surprised as she shakes Tiffany’s hand, “I’m Taeyeon’s younger sister.”

            “A pleasure to meet you.” Tiffany smiles. She peers around Hyoyeon and gives a small, familial wave to the man behind her. “You look dashing tonight Max.” The name catches me off guard, because I’m sure his name is Shim Changmin. I’ve practically burned it into my brain so I know whom to hunt down if my sister ever cries over a boy.

            “Touché Miyoung.” Changmin smiles. The two sit down and before I can ask any questions, Mother decides to make a second appearance. Father is with her, and I’m mortified that he’s even out of his seat and coming to meet Tiffany, though apparently not for the first time.

            “Ah, young Tiffany.” Father greets. There seems to be an awful lot of handshaking involved in being a socialite. “My, you’ve grown beautifully!”

            “Why thank you Mr. Kim.” I can’t get over her smile. Every time she smiles at a polite passerby who strikes conversation, she looks so vivacious. Her whole body goes into motion as she gives everyone her full attention. But when it’s just us, she has an almost exclusive aura about her, which makes me feel like we're the only two women on Earth. It also makes me want to rip her out of her stockings and run my hands–

            “I see you’ve met Taeyeon.” Father interrupts, but Tiffany merely responds with a simple ‘yes’, though after that, she gives me a wink and a smile that I haven’t seen all night. Is she flirting with me? In front of my parents? My stomach growls loud enough for everyone to hear, but the embarrassment is worth hearing Tiffany’s giggle amongst my family’s (plus Changmin).

            “What’s this? Taeyeon is hungry?” Mother pokes fun at me, but I don’t think she realizes it’s because I actually haven’t eaten that much since arriving. I’ve been too busy flirting all night with this beauty in front of me. I don’t realize that while both of us speak, we never take eyes off each other. My family and associated company either can’t take a hint or they are taking pleasure in watching our romantic escapades. I think I’m falling in love.

            “She barely touched her profiteroles.” Father says. I think he might be smiling, but I’m not paying attention.

            “I can vouch for that, I ate most of them.” And I will eat you later, Shim Changmin. Those were MY profiteroles!!!

            “The last time Taeyeon barely ate, she had stomach flu. Unnie, are you feeling alright?” Hyoyeon goes to take my temperature with her hands in a comic gesture, but I swat it away lightly.

            “Yah! I’m fine.” I grumble.

            “Oh I really like this song.” Changmin says. It’s the same song that’s been playing for I don’t know how long. Tiffany brushes her foot against my leg beneath the table and my breath hitches, but I try to suppress any visible reaction. “Why don’t we go for another dance Hyoyeon?”

            “I’d love to.” I think Hyoyeon’s blushing. I don’t care right now, that’s an issue for later. Right now is about Tiffany.

            “Oh look darling!” Mother says, putting her hand over Father’s arm. “Over there, the Inagawa newly weds!” Lies. They’ve been married for at least three hundred and sixty-four days now. “Let’s go congratulate them.” Like you didn’t congratulate them the morning after they were seen retreating out of the same hotel room, this time last year. I sigh at my mother’s embarrassing behavior, feeling horrified. But that’s before I see Tiffanys’ gorgeous cheeks light up with a beautiful, rosy allure that almost makes me wish my mother would come back and make even more awful slurs. Almost, being the operative word. It’s just us now. Alone. By ourselves. With no one else around. I don’t think I could handle this level of intimacy with all these people around if I didn’t feel like we were in our own little world. Father, Mother, Hyoyeon and Changmin, they all seemed galaxies away when she reaches her slight, bare fingers over my gold-diamond bands. Her head looks away but her eyes are locked with mine as we lean our shoulders closer, speaking with only our bodies as the moment carries us away.

            “You know…” Tiffany starts, positively smitten with a natural rouge in her cheeks, “I have a penthouse suite booked for the next few days here. It’s only on the 19^th floor.” For me, 19 floors is nothing. We grab our purses and I take her by the hand, but end up letting her drag me to the elevator since I have no idea how this cavernous building is meant to work. I go to take her by the waist as the elevator doors close, but she deflects my advances, looking up at the corner of the elevator ceiling where a security camera is spying on us. I’m horrified. I proceed to bury my head against the wall, to which Tiffany giggles cutely. When the doors open, I feel her take my hand away from my face and pull me out into the lavish hallway. We both immediately scout the hallway for anyone who may be casing the upper floors for intel on tonight’s couplings.

            “It’s just us.” She smiles, pulling my hands onto her waist. “I believe this is where we were heading?” She continues to pull me by the hands, luring me down the hall for a short while until we come up to a door, that I suspect is her’s. Letting go of me, she fumbles through her bag for the keycard, swiping it in one swift motion, after which the electronic lock sounds and she takes my hand again. “Are you ready for this?” Tiffany takes my hand again, only now my palms are beginning to sweat and my mind begins to cloud over. Are we really doing this? Stealing away during what is meant to be the most extravagant night of our lives, and having each other all to ourselves? I’ve come too far to regret anything now. Tiffany’s hand is so warm, and I can’t help but trust her and her beauty– inside and out. I nod my head with a smile, after which she pushes on the door handle, and we lock it behind us.

TWO YEARS LATER

           "Oh look what came in the mail Tae!" Tiffany beams, flicking through a series of letters until she hands me an exquisite invitation, with ribbons and expensive card. I look up from the castle of paperwork I've 'organized' in the living room. Even though I have my own study I could be working in, I still prefer to do all my work on the floor, and Tiffany feels guilty if she comes to snuggle me while I'm in there, which is something I can't live without her doing. The card looks all too familiar, only this time I'm glad that I get to be listed as a guest, and not a contestant.

           "Is it that time of year already? Wow..." I revel, folding over the corners of the invitations with a sullen wonder. Memories began to flash through my mind. Tiffany's soft smile, her butterfly lashes, and her waterfall tresses; it all flooded back like the last two years were a dream.

           "She must be so grown up now. Can you believe it's been two years?" I shake my head in disbelief. Tiffany comes and sits down by my side, careful not to disturb my work. "I guess we should drop by tomorrow?" I smile, dragging my fingers over hers until our hands are laced together.

           "We should. Thoughts about what to wear?"

           "Nothing too flashy. We should still try and surprise everyone for the big event." She winks, and I giggle into her neck as I begin to forget about all the work I've surrounded myself with.

It's been two years since our picking. In that time, I've been busy with my university studies, spending my holidays at Kim Corporation HQ learning about the business from Father, all in the mean time trying not to eat myself into an obese stupor. Oh, and Tiffany and I moved in together. Stemming from our shared disdain for the picking tradition, we decided not to get married purely to frustrate our parents and keep everyone on their toes. Despite this, we do have serious plans to get married, as we are already secretly engaged. The entire covert affair has been quite fun, especially watching my mother angrily fret over my marital status.

         "See? Because the two of you aren't married, we had to send two invitations instead of one. Look at all the hastle your childishness is costing us!"

           "Mother, you are one of a few truly rich people in the world, it's rude of you to complain about cost when there are those less fortunate than you." Being with Tiffany has taught me some form of social diplomacy, especially with my parents, who have chosen strange topics on which to be more strict and more lenient with me. For example, they couldn't care less about how well I am doing at university, or how much I work for the company in my spare time. But now that I'm of age, all that seems to burden them is that their perfectly young daughter of twenty is horrifyingly unmarried. I don't let it bother me though, since I know Father is silently proud of my efforts within the company. "Now, where is my special girl?"

           "Right here!" Hyoyeon says, stepping out of her room in a dazzling flash like an actress. Her makeup is once again impeccable, her dress even more stunning than mine was, in a summery floral print of all colors, with cream wedge sandles poking out from the end of her ankle-length dress. The picking this year had been moved to an outdoor gala, with a hotel close enough for those devillish enough to risk being caught escaping to a private room. I hug my sister so tight I almost suffocate us both, but we're too excited to complain. "I missed you Sis."

           "It's only been a week Hyoyeon." I chuckle, letting her go.

           "I know, but I still miss you." Before I can say anything more, the doorbell sounds, and Mother rushes to buzz the person in. A few minutes later, a tall, attractive man steps into my parents penthouse, and my breath is immediately kicked out of lungs, this time not in a good way. Tiffany smiles, bounding over to him with an eagerness that worries me once again.

            "Changmin! It's been so long."

           "How I've missed you Tiffany. How is married life treating you?" He winked, and if I hadn't found his quip rather amusing by Mother's near heart attack, I probably would have been fuming in rage.

           "Yeah, hurry up and get married already! I want to be a bridesmaid."

           "Hey, just because it's your special day doesn't make everyone your personal genie." I quickly retort, but Changmin is there to be the chivalrous savior.

           "Hyoyeon, you look simply gorgeous."

           "Simply gorgeous?" My voice rises a few octaves unknowingly, as does my temper. "You think my sister is simple?"

           "Taeyeon, remember what we talked about..." Tiffany says, taking my hand and trying to calm me down. Changmin is unfazed by my outburst. Hyoyeon laces her fingers through his, and they look at each other with a magnetic gaze that takes me back two years in time. It's hard for me to recognize how in love they are, but at the same time, seeing her so well looked after makes me feel less anxious about having left her as an only child for the last two years. I visit as often as I can, but with so much work to do, professionally and personally, it's hard for me to see Hyoyeon as often as I'd like. Truth be told, I had no idea why she is going to this picking when she's been dating Changmin for the last year, but seeing her so happy in her gorgeous dress told me everything I needed to know.

           "Shall we make our way to the gala?" Mother suggests, and Father nods in response.

           "May I?" Changmin puts his hand out for Hyoyeon, but surprisingly looks to me for permission. I sense his deviousness putting me on the spot in front of my parents and Tiffany, but I relent and nod. Everyone is nearly out of the door when Tiffany wraps her pinkie finger around mine before kissing my cheek.

           "I love you Kim Taeyeon." Instead of another kiss to the cheek, I clasp her cheek with my hand and bring her lips to mine. She tastes sweet, like her cherry lip balm, and I go reach for her waist again, but she deflects my hands once more. She's gotten good at this over the years, mainly because I try it so often when I shouldn't. "I have something for you..." She whispers.

           "What's the hold up?!" Hyoyeon yells from the elevator. I shoo my hand at her, telling the family (plus Changmin) to wait for us in the lobby.

           "You were saying?" I grin, looking into Tiffany's almond-brown eyes with as much affection and enamour as I had two years ago. I don't know where it came from, but Tiffany slides a navy velvet box into my hands while keeping my gaze locked in her eyes. Shocked, I carefully open the box while my heart thrums at a million miles an hour, until I see it. A gold ring, with diamonds set around the band, but this ring is different from the rest; there is one larger diamond standing tall above the rest in the center, and that could mean only one thing.

           "Let's get married Taeyeon. Properly." I don't give her a verbal answer, at first anyways. I merely throw my arms around her bare shoulders, kissing her as we stumble backwards a few steps, before Tiffany catches me and tenderly holds me by the waist.

           "Anything for you Tiff."

A MONTH LATER

Breaking news! The Kim-Hwang couple finally tie the knot!
Wedding to be held on Yeoui Island next spring.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Your support gives me the confidence to keep on writing, so I really thank you from the bottom of my heart! Did you ejoy it? I hope the writing was edgy and entertaining enough for you to love it. I'd really love to know what you thought of it, so please comment or private message me if you'd prefer. Also if you really liked it, then don't be shy and give it a big up-vote!

         >>> Here is my tumblr, scarletk21.tumblr.com, my twitter, @ScarletK21 and my ask.fm, ScarletK21 ✯
                  > All of it is pretty much K-Pop. Feel free to drop me a message or a question, I'm always happy to chat ｡◕‿◕｡

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Big Hearts, Empty Beds (ChanLu // KaiSoo // SeBaek // SuLay) chaptered
Goodbye Summer (HunHan) oneshot
From Seoul to Florida, With Love (BaekYeol) drabble