“I’m personally offended that you didn’t pick me for you fake date.”

Minho rested his head on your thighs, chin pressed to his neck, looking plenty comfortable as he mutters his way through whatever level he was on candy crush.

His latest grouchy remark caught your attention, making you look down on him and he pretends he didn’t see the frown on your face.

“Yah— what do you mean fake date?” You flick his forehead playfully and he swats your hand away, thick brows still furrowed in full concentration over his phone screen.

“Don’t give me that crap.” He retorts, “Weren’t you the one freaking out for not having anyone to go with?”

It wasn’t so much of a surprise to know that he remembered after all. Minho may be the one to crack jokes but he always knew when to keep it down, and apparently that one time where you vented out about being the only single one invited to a reunion you dreaded to go to was one of them.

“Tsk, I thought you weren’t even listening to me.”

“Oh my god, Minho, do I really have to come? Do I? Do I?”

He pulls out his best high pitch and quite frankly spot on impression of you, and you scoff out a laugh, simultaneously thrashing your legs to push him off you.

“I sound nothing like that!”

The grin on his face rises to his eyes, so cheeky and you adore it. He settles his phone to the side, ignoring the seemingly intense game for the mean time as he crosses his legs, facing you.

“And I’m offended! Like I would have been the perfect one.” He straightens his posture, crossing his arms across his chest, arching his eyebrows accusingly at you.

“Still shameless as ever I see, why are you so sure?” You mirror his movements, shuffling closer and your knees bump to his own, peeking out from his ripped jeans.

“Because I know everything about you.”

You blink once, twice and for some reason you couldn’t tell his true motives over his suddenly serious tone.

“No you don—”

“Try me.” He cuts you off short, all confident which triggered your competitive flair and you blurt the first thing in your head without a second thought.

Literally.

“What’s my bra size?”

You didn’t see it coming when his answer hits you back in a matter of a split second, and you must have been staring at him like he just grew another head.

“How the hell did you know?” Your palms tingled with the urge to smack him for letting his eyes wander, he may be your best friend but he was a guy after all.

“I’ve had my fair share of experiences, Y/N-ah.” A dangerously smug smile crawls across his lips, leaving you to gape at him.

“You nasty.”

Minho lets out a breathy laugh into the back of his hand, letting his head drop low before you looks up at you.

“You begged me to exchange them that one time, remember?” He didn’t exactly object his previous comment and it bothered you that you may have been more upset than happy that he’s out there with some girl, or girls, who ing knows, right?

“No.” You mumble, a memory flashed, of you brazenly talking him into exchanging a purchase because he so happened to be heading to that one store that so happened to be at the other end of the city.

In return to your obvious, blatant lie, he squints for a while before resting both hands on your forearm casually. It wouldn’t normally bother you, but you pull away in response and he was looking at you in a different light this time.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you briskly get to your feet, clearing your throat as you make your way to the kitchen.

“I’m just thirsty, hold on a sec.” Another lie.

“Let’s hang out?” He says in your silence, wishing that he’d stay where he was when you catch him follow your steps.

“What do you mean, Minho.” You laugh lightly into your cup of water, “We’re hanging out right now.”

“I mean, like, we could go to a fancy restaurant and I’ll pay for everything—”

He was nervous, you could tell, he was doing that thing he does, his lip and avoiding eye contact while he chuckles a little. He must have caught your eye and his eyes widen at a realization.

“But it’s not a date. Definitely not a date.”

//