20wenty

Lisa's POV

A week had passed.

Nothing had changed.

And yet, everything had.

Jennie and I were back to... whatever this was. She came around sometimes, and when she did, she acted like that night in my apartment never happened. Like she never straddled me, never pleaded for me to believe her, never looked at me like I was something more than just a convenient body to warm her bed.

And I played along.

Because it was easier that way.

Easier than admitting that I had spent every night since then thinking about how she felt in my arms, how her lips tasted when she kissed me, how badly I wanted to believe her when she said it was just PR.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

Because the truth was, I wasn't like her.

I wasn't rich.

I wasn't famous.

I wasn't someone who could afford the luxury of pretending.

Jennie could wake up one day and decide that none of this mattered. That I didn't matter. And she would move on, go back to her world of designer clothes, flashing cameras, and carefully crafted statements that kept her image intact.

But me?

I would be left with the mess. With the bruises on my body that she didn't know about. With the weight of wanting someone I could never truly have.

So I did what I always did.

I smiled. I made stupid jokes to make her laugh. I let her think that things were normal because it was easier for her that way.

During the day, I worked at the café. Jennie knew about that. She had asked, and I had told her.

At night, I went to the gym.

That was something Jennie didn't know.

And I wasn't going to tell her.

Because if she knew, she would ask questions. And if she asked questions, I would have to lie.

So I kept my mouth shut.

I wrapped my hands, laced up my gloves, and let the pain remind me that I was still here. That no matter how much I wanted her, no matter how much I wanted this thing between us to be real, it wasn't.

The fights kept me grounded.

The punches, the bruises, the exhaustion—it all kept me from overthinking. From hoping.

Because hope was dangerous.

Hope made people weak.

And if there was one thing I had learned in my life, it was that weakness would get you killed.

My phone buzzed while I was wrapping my hands, the rough texture of the bandages pressing against my bruised knuckles. I sighed, flexing my fingers before grabbing the device.

Jennie: Come over later tonight.

I blinked at the message. No explanation, no cute emojis, just a direct order like always. Typical.

A second later, another text followed.

Jennie: Be mindful of your surroundings before going up.

My lips twitched into a smirk. Of course, she'd say that. Jennie always worried about things like that—whether I was being careful, whether I was looking over my shoulder, whether I had some hoodie pulled up to hide my face.

She worried, but she didn't ask.

She never asked what I was doing, where I was, or why I sometimes came to her place late at night with exhaustion in my bones and bruises hidden beneath my clothes.

And I never told her.

I stared at my phone for a second before typing back.

Me: Got it, princess. See you later.

I locked my phone and set it down on the bench beside me, exhaling sharply. Across the gym, my coach called out.

"Yo, Lisa, you done for the night or you gonna keep dancing around?"

I shook my head, rolling my shoulders as I stood. "One more round."

I needed to clear my head before seeing her.

Because no matter how much I told myself that this thing between us wasn't real, no matter how much I tried to act like I didn't care, the truth was—I did.

I was unwrapping my hands when Seulgi dropped onto the bench beside me, her face set in a deep frown. She didn't say anything at first, just sat there, shoulders tense, her knee bouncing slightly like she was debating something in her head.

I shot her a glance, rolling my sore wrists. "You good?"

Seulgi let out a sharp breath and turned to face me, eyes dark with worry. "Tell me it's not true."

I blinked, confused. "What?"

She ran a hand through her damp hair, looking pissed off now. "Lisa, don't play dumb. The whole underground is talking about it. You signed up for a death or alive match."

My jaw clenched. I knew this would get out eventually, but I didn't expect it to spread this fast. I stayed quiet, staring at the frayed edges of my hand wraps.

Seulgi took my silence as confirmation.

"Fuck, Lisa!" she hissed, her voice low but sharp. "Do you have any idea what you just got yourself into? They're putting you against a real killer this time. Not some amateur, not some desperate asshole trying to make cash. A real monster—he's killed over 30 people in the ring."

I scoffed. "You think I don't know that?"

"Then why the fuck did you agree to it?" she shot back, eyes flashing with something close to desperation. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I exhaled heavily, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "I don't have a choice, Seul."

"Yes, you do!" she snapped. "You always have a choice!"

I chuckled humorlessly. "That's funny coming from you."

Seulgi flinched. We both knew the truth—we were in the same boat, drowning in the same ocean. We fought not because we wanted to, but because we had to. Because backing out wasn't an option when there were debts on our heads and people waiting for us to fail so they could put a bullet in us.

Her shoulders slumped, and for a second, she just looked... tired. "Lisa... we both know this is different. This isn't just another fight. They want you dead."

I stared at the floor. I knew that. Of course, I knew that.

The moment I accepted the match, I signed my own death warrant.

But what choice did I have? The loan sharks weren't going to wait forever. And if I didn't fight, they'd come after me and Seulgi—and maybe even Jisoo. I couldn't let that happen.

Seulgi grabbed my arm suddenly, making me look at her. Her fingers were shaking. "Please, Lisa. Don't do this. There has to be another way."

I wished she was right. I wished I had an option that didn't involve stepping into that ring and possibly never stepping out.

But there wasn't.

So, I gave her the same answer I always did.

"I'll be fine."

Seulgi shook her head, pulling away. "No, you won't." Her voice cracked slightly, but she masked it with frustration, standing up. "You're not a God, Lisa. You can't walk away from this one."

I forced a smirk, though my chest felt heavy. "Guess we'll find out."

Seulgi cursed under her breath, glaring at me before storming off.

I watched her go, my smirk fading the second she was out of sight.

Because for the first time, I wasn't sure if I was lying to her... or to myself.

The first time I met Seulgi, I was half-dead in the locker room, bleeding into a busted sink and wondering if I had enough energy left to make it home before passing out on the street.

"You fight like a stray dog," she said from behind me.

I didn't even flinch. I was too tired for that. Instead, I met her eyes through the cracked mirror in front of me. She was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, watching me like she was sizing me up.

I let out a breath, wincing at the sharp pain in my ribs. "Stray dogs bite hard."

"Yeah," she mused, tilting her head. "Until they get put down."

That made me grin, though my lip was split, and it probably looked more like a grimace. "Guess I'll just have to keep biting then."

I expected her to scoff and walk away. Most fighters here didn't talk unless they wanted to pick a fight. But instead, she pulled out a water bottle from her duffel bag and tossed it to me.

I caught it, surprised.

"How much do you owe?" she asked casually, like we were discussing the weather.

I hesitated. That wasn't a normal question. Not unless you knew exactly what it meant.

"5 Million Dollar ," I finally admitted.

She let out a low whistle. "Damn. They must really want you dead."

I chuckled dryly, twisting the cap off the bottle. "Tell me about it."

Seulgi was quiet for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she muttered, "Same boat."

That was the first time someone in this hellhole had said something I actually understood.

We weren't friends right away. In this world, trust wasn't free—it had to be earned. But after that night, we kept crossing paths. Training at the same gym, fighting at the same underground rings, getting threatened by the same loan sharks who reminded us that debt wasn't just a number—it was a death sentence if we didn't pay up.

Seulgi didn't ask questions about my past, and I didn't ask about hers. We both knew that in this life, stories didn't matter—only survival did.

She was fast, sharp, and ruthless in the ring, but outside of it, she had this strange way of making things feel... less heavy.

"Lisa, you fight like someone who has nothing to lose," she told me once after I nearly got my jaw broken in a match.

I spat blood into a rag and shrugged. "Maybe I don't."

She didn't push for more. Just handed me an ice pack and muttered, "Then try not to get killed before I do. It'll ruin my winning streak."

I smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

And that was it.

No dramatic promises, no long conversations about how fucked up our lives were. Just two people stuck in the same storm, trying to outrun the thunder.

I barely noticed the footsteps approaching until a cold bottle of water pressed against my arm. The chill snapped me out of my thoughts, and I blinked, shaking off the daze. Seulgi was standing over me, that same unreadable expression on her face. But I knew her well enough by now—there was concern in her eyes.

"You good?" she asked, dropping onto the bench beside me.

I exhaled, rubbing my face before taking the bottle from her hand. "Yeah. Just thinking."

Seulgi hummed, stretching her arms before leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "About what? How the hell your debt turned into five million?"

I let out a short, dry laugh. Nothing about it was funny, but what else was I supposed to do? Cry?

"It started small," I said, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a sip. "A hundred grand, maybe. Enough to get her... hmm anyways. But you know how these bastards work. Interest, penalties, bullshit fees they make up just to keep you in their pocket. The longer you stay, the worse it gets."

Seulgi clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "So they just kept stacking the numbers until it became impossible to pay off?"

"Pretty much." I sighed, leaning back against the cold lockers. "At this point, I think they want me dead more than they want their money."

Seulgi scoffed. "Of course, they do. You're their best fighter. They don't care about getting paid back. They just want to keep you in the ring, bleeding for them, until you either drop dead or owe them so much that you can never escape."

I ran a hand through my damp hair, because as much as I wanted to argue, I couldn't. She was right. It wasn't about money anymore. It was about control.

Seulgi sighed, shaking her head. "Irene's always telling me to get out of this shit. Says it's only a matter of time before they chew me up and spit me out. Maybe she's right."

I smirked. "She made something good tonight, didn't she?"

A small smile tugged at Seulgi's lips. "You know it. Best kimchi stew in the world. You should come over. Eat some real food for once instead of whatever crap you survive on."

I hesitated.

Normally, I would've said yes. I would've taken the offer in a heartbeat because nights like that, where I could pretend I had a normal life, didn't come around often.

But then I remembered the message on my phone.

Jennie.

She told me to come over.

And the moment I saw her name pop up on my screen earlier, I knew I wouldn't say no.

"Maybe next time," I said, standing up and stretching my sore muscles.

Seulgi raised a brow. "You got somewhere better to be?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I smirked, tossing my empty water bottle into the trash. "Something like that."

Seulgi rolled her eyes. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when you realize you missed out on the best meal of your life."

I chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

But as I grabbed my bag and headed out of the gym, I couldn't ignore the weight settling in my chest.

I made my choice.

I just didn't know if it was the right one.

-

By the time I got back to my apartment, my body felt like it had been through a war—which, technically, it had. Training was brutal, my ribs still ached from the last fight, and the conversation with Seulgi wasn't exactly the most uplifting. But I pushed all of that aside as I threw my gym bag onto the floor and made my way to the tiny bathroom.

I was peeling off my shirt when my phone buzzed on the sink.

Jennie: Where are you? It's already 9.

I sighed, leaning against the counter, staring at the message for a second before typing back.

Me: Just got home. Gonna shower first.

Not even a second later, another text popped up.

Jennie: Hurry up.

I huffed out a small laugh. Typical. Impatient as ever.

Turning on the shower, I let the steam fill the tiny bathroom before stepping under the hot water. My muscles instantly relaxed, and for a few minutes, I just stood there, letting the heat soothe every ache and pain. I didn't know why I was feeling this way—like something was about to change.

Maybe it was Seulgi's words lingering in the back of my head.

Or maybe it was the fact that Jennie still wanted me around.

Even after everything.

I didn't let myself think too much about it. If I did, I'd start questioning things again. And if there was one thing I learned, it was that questioning my place in her life never ended well.

By the time I got out of the shower, it was already pushing 9:30. I quickly threw on some fresh clothes, ran a towel through my damp hair, and grabbed my phone.

Jennie: Are you coming or not?

I smirked, typing back.

Me: On my way, princess. Keep your pajamas on.

Her reply came fast.

Jennie: Who said I was wearing pajamas?

I swallowed.

That woman was going to be the death of me.

Shaking my head, I grabbed my jacket, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and headed out.

--

Jennie's POV

I checked my phone for the hundredth time.

9:30 PM.

Lisa was late.

Not too late, but enough to make my stomach twist uncomfortably. I stared at the last message she sent—On my way, princess. Keep your pajamas on.—and reread it like it held some sort of hidden meaning.

I hated this. This feeling.

This... concern.

Because concern meant caring, and caring meant something deeper, and I didn't want that.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

I tossed my phone onto the couch and crossed my arms, pacing in my penthouse. It wasn't just tonight. It was every night. Every time I saw Lisa, I noticed things. The bruises on her skin, the way her knuckles were always torn up like she'd been punching concrete, the exhaustion in her eyes no matter how much she smiled at me.

And I never asked.

Because asking would lead to a conversation I wasn't ready for.

Because Lisa would look at me with those knowing eyes, like she could see through all my bullshit, and I wouldn't have an answer.

What was I supposed to say?

That I needed her?

That I missed her?

That I thought about her more than I should?

That every time I was alone in my office, in my bed, on set, all I could think about was her—her hands on me, her mouth on my skin, the way she fucked me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered?

No.

I couldn't say any of that.

Because that would mean admitting that Lisa wasn't just some deal I made. That she wasn't just a distraction. That she was something more.

And that was impossible.

I didn't love Lisa.

I didn't even like her.

At least, that's what I kept trying to tell myself.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair as I plopped down on the couch. My legs bounced impatiently. The more I waited, the more I overthought.

Why did I even invite Lisa over?

It wasn't like we could do anything.

I had my period.

It's not like she could fuck me tonight, so what was the point?

I pursed my lips, annoyed at myself for even thinking that way. Was that all Lisa was to me? Just someone to satisfy my needs?

No, of course not.

But then... what else?

I shook my head, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. I refused to believe it was anything deeper. I refused to believe that I cared where she was, that I worried about the bruises I saw on her every time we met, that I longed for her hugs and kisses like they were the only thing keeping me sane.

I refused to believe that I actually missed her.

No. That wasn't it.

I was just used to her presence. That's all.

Lisa was just a habit.

A routine.

Something familiar in the middle of my chaotic life.

That's why I texted her. That's why I told her to come over.

Not because I wanted to see her. Not because I wanted her to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me even when we couldn't go further.

It was just... convenience.

Yeah.

That had to be it.

Then why did my heart sink a little every time she was late?

Why did I keep checking my phone, hoping to see her name?

Why did I feel this restless, like something was missing until she was here?

I clenched my jaw, gripping a throw pillow tightly as if that would somehow shut my thoughts up.

Lisa didn't matter to me.

I didn't miss her.

I didn't need her.

And I sure as hell didn't—

A knock on the door snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts.

Lisa.

I exhaled, my body relaxing immediately at the sound.

God, I hated how much she affected me.

I opened the door, stepping aside to let Lisa in. No kisses, no hugs—just a lingering look before she walked past me.

"Why are you late?" I asked, my arms crossing over my chest. I didn't mean for it to come out accusingly, but maybe it did.

Lisa sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Had to stop by my place first."

That was it. No further explanation. Just a vague, empty answer.

I bit my tongue. I wasn't going to push.

Lisa kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable on the couch, resting her head against the backrest. Her eyes looked heavy, like she hadn't slept well in days.

I sat beside her, a careful distance away. The silence stretched between us, not awkward, but heavy. A couple of minutes passed before Lisa turned to me.

"So?" she asked, raising a brow. "What do you need me to do?"

I frowned. "What?"

"You invited me here," Lisa said. "What do you need?"

I stared at her, suddenly unsure how to answer. What did I need?

I didn't know.

I just... wanted her here.

Lisa tilted her head, watching me. "Jennie?"

I snapped out of my thoughts, clearing my throat. "I just wanted to talk."

Lisa's lips quirked up slightly, like she didn't believe me. "Talk? About what?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

What was I supposed to say? That I kept thinking about her? That I felt empty when she wasn't around? That I didn't know why I wanted her here, but I just did?

That was ridiculous.

Instead, I reached for my purse, pulling out the cheque I had prepared earlier. I held it out to her.

"Here."

Lisa glanced down at it, her brows knitting together.

"Your first check," I explained. "$50K, as we agreed."

Lisa looked at the cheque for a long moment before taking it.

Lisa stared at the cheque for a moment before slipping it into her pocket. Then, she turned her head to me, her brows raised slightly.

"Have you eaten?" she asked casually.

I blinked at her. Of all things she could say after I just handed her fifty thousand dollars, she asked if I had eaten.

"I had something earlier," I said vaguely.

Lisa didn't look convinced. "That's not an answer."

I scoffed. "It is an answer."

Lisa sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "You're terrible at taking care of yourself."

I rolled my eyes. "And you're one to talk? You look like you barely eat at all, Lisa."

Lisa smirked at that. "I eat enough."

I frowned, eyeing her bruised knuckles. Enough? I didn't believe that for a second.

Lisa leaned back on the couch, stretching her arms above her head. "Still, you should eat more. If you get sick, who's gonna yell at me every time I show up late?"

I shot her a glare. "Maybe if you showed up on time, I wouldn't have to yell at you."

Lisa chuckled, shaking her head before glancing down at her pocket. She patted where the cheque was, then looked at me again, tilting her head.

"You know," she started, her voice lighter, amused. "I still can't believe the Jennie Kim is paying me this much just to fuck."

I tensed at her words.

Lisa laughed at my expression. "What? It's true."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not just for that."

Lisa raised a brow, teasing. "Oh? Then what's it for?"

I opened my mouth, but I didn't have an answer.

What was this for?

Sex? Company?

Control?

I hated that Lisa had a way of making me feel so exposed.

Lisa grinned at my silence. "That's what I thought."

I huffed, crossing my arms. "You're an ass."

Lisa just laughed, her gaze softening as she looked at me. "But seriously... thanks, Jennie. I mean it."

I glanced at her, the way her features softened in the dim lighting. There was no teasing, no sarcasm—just pure, honest gratitude.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that.

So I just nodded.

Lisa shifted on the couch, tilting her head as she looked at me. Her usual smirk was there, but her eyes held something softer, something unreadable.

"Why are you sitting so far away?" she asked, stretching an arm across the back of the couch as if to gesture how much space was between us. "Don't you miss me?"

I scoffed, ignoring the way my chest tightened at her words. "You're so full of yourself."

Lisa chuckled. "Maybe. But that doesn't answer my question."

I refused to give her the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, pretending to be interested in whatever was playing.

Lisa wasn't having it.

"Come here," she said, patting her thigh. "I know you love sitting in my lap."

I turned my head to glare at her. "Excuse me?"

Lisa grinned. "I mean—" she let out a small laugh, her tongue brushing against her lips. "I meant when you're on my lap. Not in that way. Unless... you were thinking of something else, hmm?"

I threw a pillow at her face.

Lisa caught it with ease, still laughing, clearly enjoying how easily she could get under my skin.

"You're so annoying," I muttered, crossing my arms.

Lisa's laughter died down, and suddenly, she wasn't teasing anymore.

"Seriously, though," she said, her voice softer now. "Come here."

I hesitated.

Why was she looking at me like that?

She patted her thigh again, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "I won't bite. Unless you want me to."

I rolled my eyes, but I hated how my body betrayed me—how my heart picked up speed, how my fingers twitched at my sides.

Lisa always had this effect on me.

I sighed, giving in.

Slowly, I moved closer, hesitating for just a second before I settled onto her lap, my arms loosely wrapping around her shoulders. Lisa's hands immediately rested on my waist, her touch firm yet gentle.

"See?" Lisa whispered, her breath warm against my skin. "Much better."

I didn't respond.

Because she was right.

And that annoyed me more than anything.

Lisa shifted us effortlessly, pulling me down with her until we were lying together on the couch. Her arms wrapped around my waist, securing me against her, and before I could say anything, she buried her face in the crook of my neck.

I felt her inhale deeply, her breath warm against my skin.

"You always smell so good," she murmured, her voice slightly muffled.

A soft kiss landed on my neck, then another—slow, deliberate, as if she was savoring the moment.

Lisa suddenly hummed. "And you taste good too."

I swallowed, ignoring the way my body reacted to her touch.

Then, out of nowhere, she sighed and said, "I never thought I'd ever see you in person, let alone be like this with you."

I frowned slightly, tilting my head to look at her. "What do you mean?"

Lisa smirked but didn't lift her head. "I mean, you're Jennie Kim," she said simply, as if that explained everything.

I raised a brow. "So?"

Lisa finally pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. "So... I used to see you everywhere—on billboards, magazine covers, TV, you name it." Her fingers absentmindedly traced circles on my waist. "I'd be walking down the street, and boom, there's Jennie Kim, looking all rich and untouchable."

I blinked. "Wait. Were you my fan?"

Lisa grinned. "Hmm... maybe."

"Maybe?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes.

She chuckled. "I mean, I always saw you and thought, 'Damn, she's hot.' But I wasn't the type to obsess over celebrities, you know?"

I scoffed. "Oh, so you're saying I'm just hot? Not talented? Not—"

Lisa laughed, cutting me off. "I never said that." She tightened her hold on me. "You're obviously talented. And yeah, you're ridiculously hot too. But at that time, I never thought about it much. You were just this... larger-than-life person."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

Because for the first time, Lisa was making me see myself through her eyes—how she viewed me before we met, before all of this.

Lisa hummed, looking thoughtful. "It's kinda weird, though."

"What is?"

She smirked. "That I used to see you on billboards... and now, you're in my arms."

My heart skipped a beat, but I masked it with a roll of my eyes. "You're so dramatic."

Lisa grinned. "Maybe. But it's true."

I stayed quiet, feeling her warmth against me, her fingers still lazily drawing patterns on my waist.

And for a moment, I forgot about everything else—forgot about my overthinking, my denial, my confusion.

Because Lisa had a way of making me feel like nothing else mattered.

Lisa played with the hem of my hoodie, her fingers barely grazing my skin underneath. She wasn't looking at me, but I could feel her hesitation, the way her body tensed slightly as if she was holding something back.

Then, she finally spoke. "Can we at least be friends?"

I frowned, shifting slightly in her arms so I could see her face. "Are we not friends already?"

Lisa let out a small chuckle, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Technically, no. You never asked me to be your friend."

I blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

She finally looked at me then, her expression unreadable. "I'm just your poor little secret, Jennie."

The words cut deeper than I expected.

Because it wasn't just what she said—it was the way she said it. Like she had already accepted that this was all she'd ever be to me.

A secret. Something to be hidden. Something not worthy of being acknowledged in the real world.

My chest tightened. "Lisa, that's not—"

Lisa smiled, but it was the kind of smile that didn't belong on her. It was small, resigned, the type that people wear when they've given up on expecting anything different. "It's okay," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I get it."

But she didn't get it.

She didn't get how much it hurt to hear her talk about herself like that. Like she was less. Like she was undeserving of anything good in this world.

I clenched my jaw, staring at her. "Is that really how you see yourself?"

Lisa shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "I mean, it's the truth, isn't it?"

No.

It wasn't the truth.

But I didn't know how to say that—how to make her see herself the way I did.

So instead, I reached for her hand, intertwining our fingers, holding on tightly like I could somehow keep her from slipping away.

"Lisa..." I started, but I didn't know how to finish.

She just squeezed my hand, giving me a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, princess. It's not a big deal."

But it was a big deal.

Because Lisa had never asked me for anything—not money, not status, not love.

All she wanted was to be seen as enough.

And somehow, I had made her feel like she wasn't.

Lisa was still looking at me with that same tired smile, like she had already made peace with the idea that she would always be nothing more than a secret in my life.

I hated it.

I hated the way she saw herself, how easily she accepted that she didn't deserve anything better.

I took a deep breath, tightening my grip on her hand. "From now on," I said, my voice firm, "we're friends."

Lisa blinked, surprised. "Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that."

A slow grin spread across her face. "Are you sure? You might regret it, princess. I can be an annoying friend."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my chest felt lighter at the sight of her smiling for real. "I already regret a lot of things when it comes to you, Lisa. What's one more?"

Lisa laughed, that deep, warm sound that always managed to make my heart do stupid things. She lifted our joined hands, inspecting them like she was testing if this was real. "So... does this mean you'll actually acknowledge me in public now? Or am I still just your secret?"

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, but Lisa caught it.

She hummed knowingly, shaking her head. "Ah, I see. I'm a 'friend,' but still a secret."

I scowled. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Because I didn't know what it was like.

What Lisa and I had—what we were—it wasn't just friendship. It wasn't just whatever this was either.

It was something in between. And I didn't know how to explain that to her.

Lisa must have noticed my frustration because she squeezed my hand again, her thumb gently tracing circles on my skin. "Relax, princess. I'm just messing with you."

But I wasn't relaxed.

Not when Lisa still looked at me like she was waiting for me to really choose her.

Just when things felt normal between us, Lisa's phone buzzed.

I wasn't even trying to look, but my eyes caught the name on the screen.

Seulgi.

That name. The same one Lisa had called that night when she was sick—the night she asked to walk with her.

My stomach twisted, my jaw clenching before I could stop it.

Lisa must've noticed because the second I tried to stand up, she pulled me back—arms wrapped tight around my waist, holding me against her.

"Where are you going?" she murmured, her voice low, teasing, but also knowing.

I struggled slightly, but she didn't let go. Not tight enough to hurt, just enough to keep me there. I could feel her breathing against my neck, steady and warm.

"Let me go, Lisa," I muttered.

"Not until you stop looking like you're about to murder someone," she said, her voice laced with amusement.

The phone kept buzzing between us, but Lisa didn't move to answer it. Instead, she rested her chin on my shoulder like nothing was happening, like she wasn't holding me hostage until the call stopped.

I hated how easy this was for her. How effortlessly she could see through me.

The buzzing stopped.

Lisa finally pulled back slightly, looking down at me with that familiar smug smile. "Done being mad?"

I turned my head away, crossing my arms. "I wasn't mad."

Lisa chuckled. "Sure, princess. Totally believable."

I hated her. I hated her.

But I also hated the idea of her walking with someone else even more.

Before I could even process what was happening, Lisa suddenly shifted, pinning me beneath her on the couch.

Her body hovered over mine, her arms caging me in, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

"How about I apologize using my tongue?" Lisa murmured, voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always made my stomach twist.

I barely had time to react before her hand was on my breast, kneading through the fabric of my hoodie. A soft gasp left my lips, caught off guard by her sudden touch.

"Lisa, wait—" I started, but she swallowed the rest of my sentence with a kiss.

It wasn't just a kiss—it was hungry, deep, the kind that left no room for thinking. Her lips moved against mine like she had something to prove, like she was erasing every thought in my head that wasn't about her.

And for a second, I almost let her.

But then reality crashed back in.

I pressed my palms against her shoulders, pushing lightly. "Lisa, stop. I—"

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her brows furrowing slightly. "What's wrong?"

I exhaled, suddenly feeling warm all over. "I... I have my period."

Lisa blinked, and for a second, I expected her to tease me or make some smug remark.

Instead, she just smirked. "So?"

I stared at her. "So?"

Lisa tilted her head, brushing her thumb over my lips before trailing it down my jaw. "I don't care."

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs.

This girl was going to be the death of me.

--

Boring but need to be done.