15. Admi（RING）
VERENA
15
Waking up with the familiar crush of a hangover pressing against my temples, I made a mental note—again—that drinking was a truly terrible hobby. The pros? Dubious at best. The cons? A laundry list that started with a pounding headache and ended somewhere around mortifying nudity. And speaking of nudity, I had done it again.
As the fog of sleep cleared, I realized with a sinking feeling that I had stripped off every stitch of clothing in the night. I was as naked as the day I was born, lying under the soft duvet of what was unmistakably Jae’s bed. Jae, who was currently asleep beside me, blissfully unaware of the naked truth—literally, in this case—next to him.
Why did I do this? Why was my drunken alter ego a nudist? Every time I got past a certain point with alcohol, I just wanted to strip away all constraints. It made sense at the time, apparently. The breeze against your skin, the freedom, the sheer rebellion of it—exhilarating.
Until the morning after.
Peeking over at Jae, I noticed his peaceful expression, the kind that made him look less like the corporate automaton he usually was and more like the college boy I remembered. The boy who had once hosted a pajama party that strictly banned actual pajamas. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Just as I was about to make a smooth, stealthy escape from Jae’s bed, disaster—or perhaps fate—decided to intervene. Jae shifted in his sleep, his arm snaking out with surprising quickness for a man usually slow to rouse. Before I could utter a word or make another move, he pulled me close, my very naked body now pressed firmly against his.
The awkwardness of the situation was palpable, like being caught singing an embarrassing pop song at a traffic light by the driver next to you—only a thousand times worse because, well, nudity.
There I was, skin against skin, trying not to acknowledge how warm and reassuring his body felt against mine. My mind, traitorous thing that it was, couldn’t help but notice just how handsome he looked up close, with his disheveled hair. The morning light softened his usually sharp features, highlighting his annoyingly perfect jawline.
As much as I wanted to pull away and protect what was left of my dignity, there was an undeniable thrill to the warmth and solidity of his embrace. The same arms that had thrown me over his shoulder last night now held me in a protective cocoon that felt both right and wildly inappropriate.
The sexual tension simmered, a silent yet screaming presence in the room. It was like someone had dialed the awkward meter up to ten and then snapped the knob off for good measure. Every rational part of me screamed that I should extricate myself from this compromising position, but the part of me that had always harbored a maybe-sort-of-kind-of attraction to Jae found itself inconveniently enjoying the closeness.
And then, as if the universe hadn’t already thrown enough awkwardness my way, I felt it. His morning wood. Yep, right there, a most unwelcome guest making its presence known in a very compromising locale.
Each time I attempted a subtle wiggle to extricate myself from this rather prickly situation, it just seemed to nestle in closer. It was like playing musical chairs, but the music was a slow, torturous grind, and there was only one chair—me.
Just as I was debating whether I could possibly shimmy out of his grip without further embarrassing body contact, Jae groaned, a sound that seemed to vibrate through my entire body.
I froze, holding my breath, praying to every deity I could think of that he might think this was all a dream. Maybe he’d just roll over, mumble something about coffee, and let me escape to a cold shower and a strong coffee. But no, the universe apparently had a different plan, and I was now part of this script whether I liked it or not.
Then, just when I thought my morning couldn’t get any more terrible, the worst happened. Auntie, bless her soul, decided it was the perfect moment to waltz in with a tray of water, likely assuming she’d find us groggily nursing hangovers, not…this.
Her entrance was anything but quiet. The door swung open with a cheery “Rise and shine—” which cut off into a shriek as the tray clattered to the floor, glasses shattering like my last shreds of dignity. The noise and sudden commotion jolted Jae awake.
In a panic that matched the pitch of Auntie’s shriek, Jae flung the bedding aside in a wild, sweeping motion that would have been comical if not for the dire consequences. Suddenly, everything was on display: me, stark naked; him, shirtless; and both of us in a decidedly compromising position.
My instincts kicked into overdrive. Unfortunately, they were the clumsy, uncoordinated instincts. I flailed, attempting to cover myself and escape the bed simultaneously, which resulted in me tumbling off the mattress in a graceless heap. I landed face down, ass up—a position that had its contexts, but greeting my best friend’s aunt was definitely not one of them.
“Ah, this is not—It’s not what it looks like!” I sputtered from the floor, the words muffled by the carpet and my acute embarrassment.
Jae, equally flustered, scrambled for the bedding, his attempts to cover us both only half-successful as he managed to throw a pillow in my direction instead of anything remotely useful like a blanket. “Auntie, I can explain,” he stammered, his face the picture of mortification.
Auntie, recovering from her initial shock, her eyes wide and undoubtedly registering more than anyone wanted before breakfast, clutched at her chest. “I just came to bring water…” Her voice trailed off as she backed slowly out of the room, her eyes still locked on the havoc in front of her.
I grabbed the pillow, pressing it against myself like a makeshift shield, my cheeks burning hotter than the sun. From my awkward sprawl on the floor, I shot Jae a look that could only be described as this is your fault mixed with a plea for assistance.
There was a long, painful silence filled with the sounds of our ragged breathing and my heart hammering against my ribs. Finally, with a groan, I pushed myself up, ready to face the fallout of what would undoubtedly be an unforgettable breakfast conversation.
As I scrambled to my feet, still clutching the pillow to my front, Jae did the unthinkable. He looked between me and his still-recovering aunt and blurted out, “We’re engaged.”
The words hung in the air, ludicrous and heavy. My jaw dropped, my grip on the pillow loosened, and all I could do was stare at him in disbelief. Engaged? As in, planning to marry? My brain was too scrambled to form a coherent response.
Auntie, however, recovered from her shock much faster than I did, and her reaction was not at all what I expected. She squealed—a high-pitched sound of delight—and clapped her hands together. “Oh, get dressed! Oh my gosh, we can talk about this at breakfast!”
She hustled out of the room, her earlier shock replaced with bubbly excitement, leaving a trail of enthusiastic murmurs behind her.
And she probably shouldn’t have left. Because when I saw Jae’s triumphant smirk as he tossed me his shirt, I made the decision to kill him.
I was going to fucking murder Jae fucking Lee.