Two families sat adjacent to one another at a large table.  The two men of the house chatted over green tea and kimbap, laughing occasionally when subjects like sports and finance were brought up.  On the other hand, the two first ladies sat awkwardly across from one another, politely serving each other food.  But most uncomfortable of them all was ________ _______ a.k.a. you. 

You face palmed a few times trying to calm yourself down.  Why on earth was the male lead not here?  Angrily, you rage texted him a few times to tell him to hurry the eff up or else you’d tell them about his little girlfriend. 

“_______ah, have manners.  We’re at a dinner.  Put your phone away,” your mother sternly spoke and you nodded, embarrassed.

“Aigoo, Jongin must be stuck in traffic.  Let me see if he is outside,” Kim Jongin’s mother said.

“No, I’ll go,” you volunteered and left after bowing to the parents. 

As soon as you left the room, you took a deep breath of fresh air.  Holy moly, it was suffocating in there.  You fanned yourself a bit to help cool yourself down. 

“Deep breaths, ________ah.  Deep breaths,” you murmured to yourself. 

“Boo!” someone spoke into your ear.

You jumped forward startled, knocking your forehead against a large vase.  Your eyes widened in horror as the vase spun around a few times but thankfully stopped in place.  With a pout, you rubbed your bruised forehead.  The perpetrator laughed amusingly at your state.  You sent him a death glare. 

“Kim Jongin!  How dare you show up late to a meeting with our parents,” you growled.

“It’s not like they’re really going to be future in-laws anyway,” he answered, flicking your forehead with his thumb and index finger. 

Yelping, you slapped him a few times on the arm.  To your disappointment, he laughed as if enjoying your little tantrum.

“Come on, let’s go,” he chuckled and you pouted.

His hand slipped into yours as he tugged you to the reserved room.  You held your breath.  Your heart raced as if you had just ran a marathon.  Kim Jongin opened the door and bowed to the your parents, his hand still clinging onto yours. 

“Oh, look how perfect they look together!” Jongin’s mother exclaimed, her eyes twinkling in happiness as she eyed your intertwined hands.   

“Come sit down, _______ah,” your mother spoke.

You obediently trudged over, reluctantly letting go of the attractive heir’s hand.  To your surprise, he followed you.  You raised your eyebrow at him, confused.

“Omunim, can we trade seats?  I want to sit next to ________ah,” he asked.

Omunim.  What kind of bull was he trying to pull this time?  You narrowed your eyes at him as he sat down next to you. 

“Jagiya, what would you like to eat?” he asked lovingly staring into your eyes.  I’m going to vomit. 

You faked a smile and kicked him in the shin, under the table.  He stifled a yelp while you muffled a giggle.  Both mothers looked at you two “lovebirds” in awe.  Frustrated, you roughly opened a menu and hid your face behind it. 

“What are you trying to do?” you whispered to the young man beside you. 

“You said our marriage is final, didn’t you?” he teased.  You pretended to vomit. 

“Jongin-ah, get some food for _______.  She must be hungry from waiting so long for you,” his mother said. 

“Yeah, Oppa, I’m really hungry,” you sweetly said as you dug your nails into his thigh.  He bit his lower lip to keep from squealing in pain. 

Faking a laugh, he took your offensive hand into his and squeezed it tightly so that you were locked in his grip.  When you finally gave up the struggle, he stood up and tugged you out to the buffet area to get food. 

You harshly flung your hand away from his grip as soon as you were outside. 

“You’re disgusting,” you insulted and he merely laughed in response. 

Crossing your arms, you grabbed a plate and happily started skipping down the hallway to gather your favorite foods.  Snickering behind you, Kim Jongin took the plate out of your hand.  You hit him on the chest, trying desperately to retrieve your food back but he held it above his head.  Huffing and puffing in anger, you stocked off to get another plate.  Why is he always trying to make my life miserable? 

Midway there, he grabbed you by the elbow.  You turned to him with gritted teeth. 

“‘Jongin-ah, get some food for _______,’” he mimicked his mother.

Huh?  Your brain felt fried as if it was populated by question marks.  This man though…this man.  Let me eat his brains. 

“What do you want to eat?” he nonchalantly question