Chapter 4

Han

HE WAS HUGGING MY MOTHER.

A total stranger. I could only handle a few hugs a year from her without feeling smothered, and he was wrapped up in her boa constrictor arms for three, four, five seconds.

It was still going.

And it was a full-on hug, not one of those awkward side ones that I gave my dad.

Jesus Christ, her head was tucked under his chin. His chin!

The seconds seemed to expand into lifetimes, and his wide eyes caught mine over my mother’s head. From the way my mother was latched on, he was never going to get free. It was like one of those sad stories where a little kid smothers a cat because he hugs it too hard.

We both stared at each other and laughed. He patted her on the back and laughed some more. Unlike my laughs around my parents, he managed to pull it off without sounding like he was being held at gunpoint.

Finally after a TEN-second hug, she released him.

At ten seconds, I would’ve been hyperventilating. Then again, she probably wouldn't have let me go after ten seconds. I’m convinced she thinks if she could hug me that long enough, she’d squeeze all the devil’s influence out of me.

He stayed there, still in hugging-range, and said, “It’s so wonderful of you both to make this impromptu trip. Hana won’t say it, but she misses you both terribly.”

I cringed when he called me Hana, and my mother beamed. I didn’t know if her aversion to Han was just because she thinks it’s a boy name or if calling me by a nickname reminded her of Sunwha… of Sun.

She looked at me over his shoulder, and there were tears in her eyes. Fifteen seconds and he had her crying ing tears of joy. Were my ex-boyfriends really all that bad compared to him?

My pretend boyfriend turned to my father and said, “Sir, I’m Jeon Jungkook. You’ve raised an amazing daughter.”

My father shook his hand and said, “Really?”

REALLY. He said really.

No, “Thank you” or “I know.” It took him a full five seconds before he smiled… like me being amazing was his doing. He said, “It’s nice to meet you, son.”

They’d already married me off.

I needed to sit down.

I didn’t even say anything as I moved toward the table, but my pretend boyfriend, Jungkook, must have some kind of weird sixth sense. He was at my side in seconds, pulling out my chair for me. My parents stayed standing a few feet away, staring, like they wanted to preserve this picture of us in their memories forever.

Jungkook grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together. His skin on mine cause a jolt of electricity to run up my arm. It shocked all of the exasperated thoughts out of my head, and I sat staring at him as my parents stood staring at us. Mum pulled out a handkerchief. Maybe someday I’d be able to look back and laugh at the ridiculousness of this moment. Maybe someday I’ll also get on a subway car that didn’t smell like urine. The future had much to look forward to.

Finally Dad turned to Mum and said, “Let’s get some coffee, honey. Jungkook, Hana, we’ll join you in a moment.”

I waited until my parents were in line, and then I him, barely containing the urge to do physical harm.

“What the hell was that?”

His brows furrowed, his head turned to the side, and our hands were still laced together. Why hadn’t I pulled my hand away yet?

“I was meeting your parents?”

I tried to hold on to my anger, but really boys should not have such gorgeous eyes and long lashes. An unfamiliar heat crept up my neck, and I knew I was blushing.

I was not a blushing kind of girl.

I ripped my gaze away from his face, and then my hand out of his. My voice got shaky and all my anger had fled when I said, “More like ruining my chances of them ever liking one of my actual boyfriends.” It was easier when I wasn’t looking at him. My thoughts got clearer. “I mean, you hugged my mum. Hugs are like crack to that woman.”

He smiled lightly. My thoughts became hazy again.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t tell me your last name, so I improvised.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. He had done a pretty good job, and my parents seemed convinced and happy. He was clearly good at this kind of thing. That should have made me less nervous. It didn’t. I still felt like I was going to go into cardiac arrest at any second. “Just… don’t hug her again.”

Heaven forbid she started expecting me to follow his lead. “I just need to survive this without getting them suspicious. No need to go for Best Actor of the Year. And the last name is Oh.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry, Hana.”

The name grated against my ears. It had been years since someone besides my family called me that, and somehow I hated it even more now. I was almost snarling as I said, “Don’t call me Hana. It’s Han.”

My anger didn’t faze him at all. He paused for a second, and then smiled. “Han. That’s interesting.”

Damn him. He had this way of extinguishing my anger that was so beyond frustrating. He put his arm around my chair and turned toward me. My personal bubble popped like a frat boy’s collar. Between the