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Cherry Chapstick

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The heady bassline of the EDM remix currently playing reverberated through your body, hips swaying to the music and your best friend singing at the top of her lungs opposite you. You knew you were absolutely drenched with sweat, yet Eden looked as if she'd just walked out of the salon, hair perfectly curled and not a touch of makeup out of place. Feeling the beads dripping down the back of your neck and outlining your spine, you went to take a sip of your drink when you realised that the damn thing was empty.

You pointed towards the bar, but Eden shook her head and showed you her almost full glass. She'd stay on the bit of dancefloor you had earmarked for yourselves, next to an unusually unoccupied floor side booth that you'd been using to hold your coats and clutch bags. You weren't the slightest bit worried about either of you being on your own, seeing as people tended to steer clear of you unless they wanted to approach Eden who, although she might look sweet and cute with her girly pink dress and drink, soft makeup, and drop dead stunning eye smiles, had a national kickboxing title under her belt.

Yeah. You were both more than capable.

Picking up your black and silver metal Saint Laurent Sunset bag, you threw the chain over one shoulder and made your way to the other room where the bar was. It was a lot quieter in here, and a lot more...covered in red velvet and soft lighting compared to the main room which was all bright lights and hard corners.

You could see Eden still throwing the wildest moves through the soundproof window behind the bar that the vendors kept free of bottles and measures in order for the dancefloor to still be seen. Letting out a soft chuckle, you leant against the marble bar top and played with your card between your fingers whilst waiting for the bartender to serve you.

You hadn't been waiting long when the bartender approached you, all tall, dark, and handsome with shoulders to die for and a smile that could brighten the darkest of nights.

"And what can I get for you today, oh light of my life?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Oh, I'll have a Laphroaig, neat, a dry martini, and whatever the lady and her beautiful friend are having."

Hold the fuck up. That was NOT your voice but your mouth was open. Unless you'd forgotten, you hadn't suddenly become a ventriloquist's puppet in the past five minutes. Suddenly, the bartenders expression on approach had made a lot more sense. He had seen what you hadn't - through the window, a blond in black chatting up your best friend, an eye smile to rival her own. Unfortunately a common occurrence.

You see, whilst Eden was tall, willowy, small chested, and ladylike, you were the exact opposite. Five foot four, with a stomach that was usually tucked into the band of your panties due to the overhang, a chest so large and heavy that you were currently resting your girls on the bar to give your shoulders a break, and fat or curves in all the right, wrong, and unthought of places. A laugh most commonly labelled as loud and dirty.

You were the friend that the guy had his friend keep busy so he could get to know Eden a little better. Or any of your friends actually. You were more likely to be thought of as one of the guys than you were an actual woman in your own right.

It used to bother you, and you knew on some level deep, DEEP down that it still did, but you couldn't bring yourself to give a damn anymore. Instead, you took advantage of the free drinks and tried to steer the conversation towards an actual conversation (if you could be bothered) rather than the usual empty false platitudes that were given to provide the illusion that they were actually interested in you.

You were comfortable with your size. No, it wasn't the norm, but after a childhood and adolescence of being barely 110lbs soaking wet and still worrying about being labelled as fat and being told by your parents that you needed to lose weight, eat healthier, exercise were finally happy. You could eat what you liked without crying over the calories later, or forcing yourself to miss a meal. No, you didn't get to wear the cute things in most high street stores, and you struggled to find stores that weren't online that sold clothes and weren't ugly patterned shapeless sacks of fabric. But you had a rack most people would get surgery to emulate, an arse to fucking die for, the best best friends in the world, and an actual personality.

Unfortunately for the guy who had rudely spoken for you, that meant you didn't hold your tongue either. Without even a glance in the strangers direction, you smiled sweetly at the bartender.

"Our usual. A bottle of 1841 Veuve please," you stated clearly, not missing a beat. Youd never order a thirty grand bottle of champagne yourself but hey, it was on the strangers tab and that was definitely not your problem.

The bartender grimaced and sighed, sounding almost upset. Not surprising, considering the sheer bonus he'd get off selling that alone.

"Unfortunately madam, the Veuve is currently on order. Can I interest you in anything else?"

You began to request another drink, but again, were interrupted.

"We'll take the 1959 Dom instead then, unless the lady has any objections?"

You closed your mouth swiftly, hearing an audible click. The stranger had just ordered an even more expensive tipple, although not as vintage, and hadn't even bat an eyelid.
Nodding at the bartender who looked just as shocked as you, you finally turned to view your mysterious benefactor whose friend was trying to get into Eden's knickers.

The first thing you noticed was his scent. A delicious blend of orange with a hint of smoke and sandalwood. Next, his skin, clearer than a summer's day. His eyes, a deep brown, gazing at you with pure and unadulterated amusement. A wide, bright, white smile that would scorch the earth. Hair so perfectly tousled, a light brown with hints of blond scattered throughout. A slim, lithe body, leaning casually on the bar, dressed in a pale grey double breasted Christian Dior suit you'd seen only in pictures, with a cream sash that faded through to a deep magenta wrapped around his torso underneath the blazer, pink end barely brushing the ground, finished off with a pair of matching laced oxfords.

You felt bad for him, almost. He'd been landed with talking to you, the decidedly far less attractive friend of the modelesque beauty out on the dancefloor who you now noticed was tucked in that previously unoccupied booth with the blond haired man you'd seen dancing with her before. She was playing with her hair, a big smile on her face, and they looked deep in conversation despite the loud thumping of the dance music around them. He was stuck with you. There was no way you were leaving to go back in there and pulling your best friend away from a really pretty prospective new beau.

Looks like you'd have to suck it up and be nice to the guy. Fuck.

You painted on a wide smile and a confident aura, even though next to him you felt like an ugly gremlin dressed in a sack of shite.

"So who am I thanking for buying me and my beautiful friend out there such a delicious drink?"

The beautiful male laughed, and you felt your heart sink. You wished that for once, it was the other way around and it was Eden being your wingwoman friend whilst you were the object of desire because not only did you want to hear that simply delightful laugh until the end of time, but you also wanted to climb this bitch like a tree and never leaf.

It must have shown on your face and your companion looked panicked as he quickly stood straight, taking one of your hands in his.

"Oh fuck, I'm not laughing at you, well, not for the reason you think anyway, it's just, you think the beautiful friend is well, your friend, and I was actually talking about you when I said that, and I try to be all smooth and shit and as you can see it never fucking works, and I'm so sorry, please don't be upset, I-"

He was cut off by you taking your other hand and putting it over his mouth. Eyes widened in shock and confusion, he tilted his head slightly to the left, eyebrows furrowed, looking like the most adorable little puppy dog.

"I'm not upset," you said, smiling. He was funny. At least you wouldn't be bored whilst your friend flirted the night away. "Promise. Name?"

A beat passed. He still hadn't said anything. You looked at him strangely, wondering what his problem was, when you saw him do a quick glance at your hand...still clamped tightly over his mouth.

You snatched your hands back, feeling burned, knowing your face would be maroon had you not applied the thickest layer of foundation before you left tonight. "Sorry! I mean, I'm y/n. What's your name? I want to thank you properly."

"Hoseok," the not so stranger said softly, smile firmly back in place. "Jung Hoseok."