Sechs

The moment I stepped onto the polished glass floor, I knew that this place is expensive.

No, let me correct myself. The moment I stepped into Jongin’s car, I knew we were heading somewhere extravagant.

My lips opening slightly, I glanced around the elegantly designed restaurant in awe, and my eyes scanned the place as I found myself looking at distinguished people: people in white and black suits; people in beautiful, evening gowns; people with an air of prestige around them that filled up the whole of the restaurant with the smell of rich authority. Yet despite being surrounded by people with preeminent air, I couldn’t deny how much further Jongin stood out amongst the prestigious crowd.

Dressed smartly in a night-blue tuxedo and a white tie neatly tucked inside the outer blazer; raven dark hair sleeked back that exposed his handsome face even more, and his back straight as always as his dark eyes roamed the restaurant, Jongin poised himself with such dominance that it was hard to not notice his existence. And hence, as soon as we entered the fancy restaurant, a waiter in smart, black uniform hurried over to us and gave us, or rather, him, a deep bow.

“Mr. Jongin, please come this way.”

Giving the waiter a cool nod, Jongin held out his arm and watched me with one raised eyebrow as he eyes seemed to order me to take it. I cleared my throat a little as I obediently slipped my arm inside his, and despite being wary of Jongin’s presence right beside me, I, like any normal girl, found myself holding my back a little straighter, and my head a little higher as I strode over to the VIP area. The many jealous looks I was receiving wasn’t making me any less proud either as I found myself enjoying the moment…just for a little bit.

 “Well,” The moment the waiter sat us down in this room way too big for just two people to dine, Jongin leaned forwards from his end of the table and gave me this egotistic smirk, “Isn’t nice to be the centre of attention?”

With that one sentence, any sense of haughtiness and superiority that I felt a moment ago disappeared in a flash, and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and anger took over me as I could feel myself tensing up.

“Hmm,” Was all I managed to say as I glanced down at the table, and I could feel my face burning up underneath the thin layer of foundation as my lips pursed together into a thin line.

A few seconds of silence passed as neither of us said anything, and my eyebrows furrowed and unfurrowed as I tried hard to remain composed under the straining pause that was beginning to get to my nerves.

“S-So,” I felt like I had to say something, “Why did you bring me to dinner tonight?”

“As a welcoming gesture to you, I guess,” A small smile played at Jongin’s lips as the waiter brought in two bottles of precious red wine and poured it professionally into the wine cups before us. Jongin gave the waiter a nod as the waiter left the remaining bottle of wine on the table and left the room with his hands placed neatly before his stomach.

Humming a little, Jongin picked up the thin end of the wine cup, and my eyes followed his long fingers and the large, emerald ring on his index finger as he swirled the wine gently in elegant moves.

“Let’s toast, to our partnership for the next 100 days,” Jongin held out his cup and tilted his head as he gave me a smile which didn’t reach his eyes.

Clumsily, I picked up my cup and knocked it lightly against his before carefully taking one small sip of the aromatic wine. Despite the alcohol luring me to down it in one shot like how I usually would’ve done if Sehun was beside me, I knew better than to do so. The man before me was no Oh Sehun, and I wasn’t about to risk my safety just for that one second of pleasure. Though I hope Kim Jongin was of no bad character, I couldn’t be too sure.

“So, Yoo Nari,” Jongin placed his cup down on the table, “Tell me about yourself.”

I gave Jongin a suspicious look. “What…would you like to know?”

 “Hmm…” Jongin folded his arms and sank back into the chair, “what is your favourite colour?”

“My favourite colour?” I could hear the surprise in my voice. I wasn’t expecting such a basic and simple question. “Uhm, it would be white, I guess.”

“White, huh?” Jongin tapped one finger against his arm, “Why white?”

I let out a soft smile.

“I guess I feel sorry for it,” I fiddled with my fingers underneath the table, “it’s a plain colour for sure, mediocre, and boring to look at. I reckon that white is the most tragic colour of all.”

“Oh?” Jongin looked interested as he leaned forwards a little, “Do explain.”

“You see,” My heart was thumping as I spoke, but I knew I spoke with certainty and definite belief in my every word, “white doesn’t have a choice of its own. If blue wants to contaminate white with its own sadness, then white will turn into blue. But if yellow wishes to influence white into the ball of sunshine that it is, then white will follow yellow’s choices. If black wants to fill up white with its dark thoughts, then white has no choice but to abide to black’s will. White cannot defend itself. White is just there