“what do you want to eat?” jennie asks, eyes steady and clear. “sushi? italian?”

jaehyun holds the stack of bills she had unceremoniously deposited into his hands. he counts the money and, in horror, looks up at her.

“jennie, this is enough to buy like five hundred cups of ramen.”

“italian it is, then.”

without missing a beat, she directs the taxi driver. jaehyun feels a pang of paranoia at the driver’s glance through the rearview mirror and consequently stuffs the girthy wad of cash into his jacket pocket.

he recognizes the simple black letters on the marble exterior from a magazine.

they’re lead by a hostess to a white clothed table. jaehyun feels every bit out of his element—he can’t even afford to eat a meal at his own restaurant. he gives jennie a questioning glance, hoping for some kind of guidance.

“you choose,” jennie tells him from across the table. a louboutin encased foot teases at the hem of his slacks and he ignores it for his own good.

(he assumes it’s habit for her by now.)

slowly he begins to realize the strange sort of freedom in ignoring prices on the menu.

his finger drags deliberately over the glossed page.

they begin with steamed cockles and grilled octopus.

then the beef cheek ravioli and spaghettini with langoustines in a garlic aioli.  

a grilled ribeye for two.

and then, for the finale, saffron panna cotta and pear sfogliata.

jaehyun leans back in gluttonous satisfaction. under the gentle lantern light jennie somehow looks like a beautiful and mystical creature. she stares at him with her narrowed, feline eyes. there’s a glow in her cheeks and a gloss to her lips.

“i like watching you eat.” she tells him as if she weren’t a goddess that existed on an alternate plane of excess and luxury.

“how so?” he humors her.

“you pick up the plate and smell everything first. then, you take your fork, poke it carefully into each thing on the plate. you let the flavors sit on your tongue, take a deep breath, and then allow yourself the first bite.” she lets the fork dance between her pouted lips in illustration. “you eat like it’s an art.”

“it is an art,” he wants to say, but lets the words fizzle out on his tongue.

instead, he says: “we just spent what i make in a week on a four course meal for two.”

“and wine.” jennie adds with a wink.

“if do kyungsoo is looking for a boyfriend let me know.” jaehyun lets out an awkward laugh as he holds onto his stomach. he had indulged nearly to explosion. if he were to die in this moment he feels like he wouldn’t really mind.

jennie lets out a pretty laugh before her face transforms into a pout. she drinks the last sip of her wine, clicking her nails against the glass.

she swears under her breath as she looks up at him from under her falsies.

“how am i supposed to go to the gala if taeyong and the lawyer will both be there?”

“they don’t know about each other?” jaehyun asks, feeling as if he has accidentally missed a crucial piece to the puzzle that is jennie kim.

“obviously not.”

“jennie, that’s cheating…”

she sighs, her head tilted in a portrait of ennui.

“it’s not like i’m the only girl they’re seeing.”

“so, it’s an open relationship?”

“it’s a don’t-ask-don’t-tell open relationship.”

jaehyun lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“you’re not worried he saw us together?”

he starts to wonder if handing them half a rent payment for dinner was actually a power play. he bites his lip, remembering the glint in kyungsoo’s eyes.

(it was the same glint he had seen in taeyong’s eyes, in the eyes of customers, in the eyes of a haughty classmate at the cordon bleu—the absolute, big energy, whole body confidence that could only come with, and never be replicated without, wealth.)

“why?” she trains her eyes back on him. “you’re obviously not my style.”

“your style?”

he isn’t sure why he asks. he doesn’t know why he needs to know. or really, why he needs to hear it out loud—he already knows before she opens .

“rich.”

jaehyun laughs. it’s so true it doesn’t even hurt.

. . .

jisoo tugs at his tie—an old one, not the one bought by jennie that sits untouched in his drawer, as if to treat it otherwise would be sacrilegious. the smooth edges of her manicure graze harmlessly against his neck.

“i know you don’t do it for me but thank you for keeping your nails short.” jaehyun smirks, though the moment is short-lived as jisoo vindictively tightens the knot around his throat. he coughs, and jisoo smirks in turn as she pats his shoulder. he should have known better.

“in all seriousness, thank you for doing this, jae.”

“of course.” he responds sincerely, loosening the knot and letting out a sigh of relief.

this refers to sitting in the dining room of a fancy hotel waiting for jisoo’s overbearing mother to grace them with her presence.

almost on cue, jisoo’s mother arrives like a thunder cloud of poise and malice. she’s every bit as beautiful as her daughter, but her eyes are missing the gentleness that radiates from within jisoo.