3hree

Jennie POV

The concert was over, and the weight of the evening lingered in the air as I walked briskly toward the dressing room. My team followed behind, their chatter buzzing in the background, but my focus was locked on one person.

Lisa.

She stood near the corner of the room, blending in like she always did, her mask of indifference firmly in place. It irritated me how casual she looked, as if nothing significant had happened tonight.

But I knew better.

"Lisa," I snapped, my voice cutting through the noise.

She turned to me, her expression neutral, one brow raising slightly as if to say, What now?

"We need to talk," I said firmly, glancing around the room. "All of you—out. Now."

The staff exchanged nervous glances, some hesitating before Jisoo spoke up.

"Uh, Jennie, is everything okay?" she asked, her voice edged with worry.

"I said, out, Jisoo. That includes you," I replied sharply, my patience wearing thin.

Jisoo frowned, her gaze darting between Lisa and me. "Don't do anything rash, Jennie."

I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Lisa. Slowly, the room emptied, and the door clicked shut behind them, leaving just the two of us in tense silence.

Lisa leaned casually against the wall, her hands in her pockets, her expression unreadable.

"What's this about?" she asked, her tone almost playful.

"You know what it's about," I hissed, my voice low but sharp.

She tilted her head, feigning confusion. "I really don't."

The nonchalance in her voice made my blood boil. I took a step closer, my heart pounding. "Don't act stupid with me, Lisa. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she still didn't move, her calm demeanor only fueling my frustration.

"I honestly don't remember doing anything wrong," she said, her tone laced with mock innocence.

And that was it. The final straw.

Before I could think, my hand shot out, the sound of the slap echoing in the room.

Lisa's head turned slightly with the impact, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she slowly brought her hand up to her cheek, rubbing the spot where my palm had connected.

"Feel better?" she asked, her voice even, her calm infuriating.

"You kissed me," I said, my voice trembling with anger—or was it something else? "On stage. You had no right."

Her brows furrowed, genuine confusion crossing her face. "Kissed you? Jennie, I didn't—"

"Don't lie to me!" I snapped, my chest heaving.

The room was thick with tension as I stared at Lisa, my fists clenched at my sides. Her maddeningly calm demeanor only added fuel to the fire blazing inside me.

"You kissed me," I hissed again, taking a step closer, the words dripping with accusation.

Lisa tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "I already told you, Jennie. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" I snapped, my voice echoing off the walls. "You did it on stage, right after our performance. You know exactly what I mean!"

Her lips quirked into the faintest smirk, her gaze steady. "If I did, it wasn't on purpose. Maybe you imagined it."

The audacity of her words sent my temper spiraling out of control. "Imagined it?" I repeated, stepping closer until I was inches away from her. "Do you think I'm stupid, Lisa?"

She shrugged casually. "I never said that."

I saw red. Before I could think, my hand connected with her cheek again, the sound of the slap reverberating in the room. Her head turned slightly from the force.

Her smirk only deepened.

"Again? Feel better?" she asked, her voice maddeningly calm.

"You're unbelievable!" I yelled, slapping her again.

"Jennie, I—"

Another slap.

This time, she caught my wrist before I could strike again, her grip firm but not painful. Her smirk faded, replaced by an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

"Alright, fine," she said, her voice low and steady. "You want the truth?"

I glared at her, my chest heaving. "Finally."

Lisa leaned in slightly, her eyes locked on mine. "I kissed you."

The air seemed to leave the room as her confession hung between us. My heart pounded wildly, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous coursing through me.

"You... You—"

"Yeah," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I kissed you. And you know what? I don't regret it."

Before I could react, she closed the distance between us, her lips crashing onto mine with a hunger that stole the breath from my lungs.

At first, I pushed against her, my mind screaming that this was wrong, that she was crossing a line. But Lisa didn't let go.

Her hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. She turned us sharply, pressing me against the wall, her body pinning mine as the kiss deepened.

"Stop," I managed to protest against her lips, though the word was weak, more a plea than a command.

But Lisa wasn't stopping. Her hands moved to cradle my face, her touch both firm and gentle as her lips moved against mine with a skill that left me dizzy.

And then, something inside me snapped.

The fight drained from my body as I gave in, my hands tangling in her hair as I kissed her back with just as much hunger.

The kiss was electric, intense, and far too dangerous. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a battle, a clash of emotions neither of us were willing to name.

The world outside that room ceased to exist. There was only Lisa—her warmth, her strength, and the way her lips seemed to ignite a fire in me that I couldn't control.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathing heavily, our foreheads pressed together.

"That," Lisa said, her voice rough, "was real."

I couldn't speak, couldn't think. All I could do was stare at her, my heart racing as I tried to process what had just happened.

And for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do.

--

Lisa's POV

The door slammed shut behind Jennie, leaving me standing in the middle of the dressing room, breathing hard. My lips still tingled from the kiss, and my chest felt tight, as though I'd been holding my breath the entire time.

I didn't regret it—not the confession, not the kiss, not the moment of truth. But I hadn't expected Jennie to storm out like that.

The tension in the room was suffocating, but I couldn't move. My mind replayed her expression over and over—the mix of shock, anger, and something else she probably didn't want to acknowledge.

The door creaked open again, and Jisoo stepped inside, her eyes wide with concern. "Lisa," she said carefully, looking around as if searching for signs of a fight. "What the hell happened in here? Jennie looked like she was ready to explode."

I turned away, running a hand through my hair. "Nothing," I muttered. "It was nothing."

"Nothing?" Jisoo repeated, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at me. "Lisa, I've known you for years, and I know when you're lying. Spill it."

I grabbed my bag from the chair, slinging it over my shoulder. "Let it go, Jisoo. It's between me and Jennie."

"Lisa," she pressed, stepping closer. "You know I won't judge, right? Whatever it is, you can tell me."

I shook my head, refusing to meet her gaze. "I said it's nothing."

The silence stretched between us, heavy and awkward. Finally, Jisoo sighed and dropped her arms. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But whatever happened, don't make it worse. We're here for Jennie's concert, not to create drama."

"I know," I said quietly, heading for the door.

We made our way back to the hotel in silence. Jisoo occasionally glanced at me, probably debating whether to push me further, but she didn't say anything.

When we reached our room, I threw my bag onto the bed and sat down heavily. The events of the evening replayed in my mind—Jennie's anger, her slap, the way her body had softened under my touch, and the kiss that had sent sparks shooting through every nerve in my body.

Jisoo sat on the bed opposite me, watching me closely. "Lisa, you know I care about you, right?" she said softly.

I nodded. "I know, Jisoo."

"Then be careful," she said, her tone serious.

"I get it," I replied, my voice low.

"Do you?" she pressed, leaning forward.

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

Instead, I leaned back against the headboard and closed my eyes, trying to block out the storm of thoughts in my head.

Jisoo sighed again, lying back on her own bed. "Just... don't do anything stupid, okay? I like this job. And I'd hate to see you get hurt."

"I'll be fine," I muttered, though the words felt hollow.

But as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more complicated than I'd ever anticipated.

I was sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, scrolling through my phone aimlessly, when Jisoo's ringtone broke the silence. She answered quickly, her expression shifting as she listened to whoever was on the other end.

Her eyes darted to me, and I immediately knew something was wrong.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice steady despite the sinking feeling in my gut.

Jisoo ended the call and turned to me, her lips pressed into a thin line. "That was Jennie."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "And?"

"She doesn't want you here tomorrow," Jisoo said softly, as if trying to cushion the blow. "She said your service isn't needed anymore, and she doesn't want to see you at the concert."

For a moment, I didn't respond. Her words hit harder than I expected, but I kept my expression blank.

"Well," I said finally, standing up and grabbing my bag, "I guess that's that."

"Lisa..." Jisoo's voice was heavy with concern. "What happened? Did you do something to piss her off? She was furious when she stormed out earlier."

I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. "No idea. Maybe she didn't like the way I danced."

Jisoo frowned, not buying my answer but too polite to press further. "I'm sorry, Lisa. I didn't expect this to happen. You didn't deserve to be treated like this."

"It's fine," I said quickly, cutting her off. "Can you book me the last trip to Seoul tonight? If I'm not working here anymore, I'd rather get back home and figure things out. I need to hustle if I'm going to make rent this month."

Jisoo's expression shifted to one of worry. "Lisa, are you sure? The last trip is at 11 p.m. That's barely enough time to pack and get to the airport."

"I'm sure," I said firmly. "Book it."

Jisoo hesitated for a moment before nodding and grabbing her phone. "Alright. I'll book it now. But Lisa... if there's anything you need to talk about, I'm here, okay?"

"I know," I said, giving her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jisoo. But I'm fine."

She glanced at me, concern still etched on her face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I repeated, more firmly this time.

Once the ticket was booked, I grabbed my belongings and slung my bag over my shoulder. Before leaving, I turned to Jisoo.

"One more thing," I said, my voice low. "Don't tell anyone. Don't give out my address, my number—nothing. Not to Jennie, not to anyone. Can you do that for me?"

Jisoo frowned. "Lisa, what's going on?"

"Just promise me," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.

After a moment, she nodded. "I promise. But, Lisa... take care of yourself, okay?"

I nodded, forcing a small smile. "I will. Thanks for everything, Jisoo."

With that, I left the hotel room, my heart heavy as I made my way to the airport.

As I walked through the quiet streets, I couldn't help but wonder what I'd done to deserve Jennie's anger. But whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore.

This job was over, and I had no choice but to move on.

--

Jennie's POV

The hot water from the shower did little to soothe the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, as if I could wash away the memory of Lisa's lips on mine, her hands on my waist, the way her breath tickled my skin.

I hated myself for it. For liking it. For craving the way she kissed me with hunger and confidence, like she knew exactly how to unravel me.

But what I hated more was how I couldn't stop thinking about her.

"Damn it," I hissed under my breath, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes wide and filled with frustration.

Why did she have to do that? Why did she have to kiss me? And why did I let her?

I stormed back into my room, drying my hair roughly with the towel. My phone sat on the bedside table, taunting me. I had told Jisoo to send Lisa home, that I didn't want to see her at tomorrow's concert.

The memory of Lisa's expression as she stood there, calm and unapologetic, flashed through my mind. I could still feel the ghost of her touch, the weight of her stare.

A pang of regret shot through me.

"What the hell was I thinking?" I muttered, tossing the towel aside. I grabbed my phone, my fingers trembling as I dialed Jisoo's number.

She answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"It's me," I said quickly. "Don't send Lisa home. I—" I hesitated, my voice faltering. "I made a mistake. She's still needed here. Make sure she stays."

There was a pause on the other end, and then Jisoo's voice came, cautious but firm. "Jennie... I already told her what you said earlier. She decided to leave. She's probably at the airport by now."

My heart dropped.

"What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"She didn't want to stick around after you said you didn't need her anymore," Jisoo explained. "She asked me to book her the last flight to Seoul, and I did. She's likely on her way there now."

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my chest tightening. The thought of not seeing Lisa tomorrow, of not having her there, was unbearable.

Why?

Why did the idea of her leaving feel like I was losing something irreplaceable?

"Which flight?" I asked urgently.

"Jennie, it's late," Jisoo said gently. "She'll be fine. She's probably halfway to the airport by now."

"Which flight, Jisoo?" I demanded, my voice rising.

Jisoo sighed. "The 11 p.m. to Seoul. But—"

I didn't let her finish. I hung up the phone and bolted to the closet, throwing on the first clothes I could grab. My heart was racing, and I couldn't tell if it was anger, panic, or something else entirely.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the open closet door. My mind was racing, and my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

Lisa was probably at the airport by now, waiting for her flight. I could picture her sitting in one of those plastic chairs, her sketchpad open on her lap, calmly ignoring the world like she always did.

I reached for my phone again, my fingers hovering over the screen.

But I stopped.

What was I doing? Why was I so worked up over someone like her?

I exhaled sharply, running my hands through my damp hair. This wasn't me. I wasn't the kind of person who let someone like Lisa—someone so far below my world—get under my skin.

"Pull yourself together, Jennie," I muttered.

Lisa was nothing compared to me. I was Jennie Kim, the IT girl of K-pop, with countless fans, a glittering career, and a life most people could only dream of. Lisa was just... Lisa. A nobody who happened to be here because of Jisoo's recommendation.

She was an assistant. Temporary, at that.

I got up and paced the room, trying to shake off the unease creeping through me.

The kiss. That damn kiss.

It wasn't a big deal. It was impulsive and meaningless. She probably thought she could charm her way into staying longer, or maybe she was just playing some kind of game.

Whatever it was, I'd get over it.

I stopped in front of the mirror and looked at myself. My reflection was poised and perfect, just as it always was.

Lisa didn't belong in my world. She couldn't possibly understand the life I led, the pressures I faced, or the standards I upheld.

She was just a momentary blip.

I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. Tomorrow was another day, another concert. Lisa wouldn't be there, but that didn't matter. I didn't need her.

"Forget about her," I told my reflection.

I climbed into bed, determined to put Lisa Manoban out of my mind. After all, I was Jennie Kim. I didn't have time for distractions.

--

The concert hall buzzed with energy, the air electric with the excitement of the final rehearsals. My usual confidence was intact, but beneath it lay a nagging sense of unease I couldn't shake.

The dancers were already in position for You and Me. My original partner, who had miraculously recovered, was back. He smiled apologetically as we took our places, and I nodded curtly, pretending everything was fine.

The music started.

I fell into the rhythm with ease, letting the melody guide me. My partner moved in sync with me, his steps rehearsed, his presence professional. On the surface, it should have felt perfect—this was the way the dance was meant to be performed.

But it wasn't perfect.

No matter how fluidly we moved, something was missing. The heat. The spark. The... connection.

Lisa's face flashed in my mind, her steady gaze, the way her hands had guided me with such confidence, her body fitting seamlessly with mine as if we were made for this dance together.

Damn it.

I stumbled slightly, my partner glancing at me with concern. I recovered quickly, forcing a smile and shaking my head as if to say, I'm fine. But I wasn't.

The rehearsal ended, and I plastered on a smile as the choreographer gave notes. My partner leaned in to check if I was okay, and I brushed him off with a polite nod. Inside, my thoughts were spiraling.

When the concert began, I threw myself into every performance, giving the audience everything they came for. The screams and cheers of the fans were deafening, their energy infectious. This was my world, my domain, where I shone brightest.

Yet, even in the spotlight, my mind wandered.

I couldn't stop thinking about her.

About the way she had watched me so attentively from the sidelines. The way she had seamlessly stepped into a role meant for someone else and made it hers. The way her touch had lingered, unspoken words hanging between us.

Every time I turned my head, I half-expected to see her standing there, sketchpad in hand, that infuriatingly calm expression on her face.

By the time the concert ended, I was exhausted, not just from the physical strain of performing but from the mental battle I'd fought all night.

Lisa Manoban had somehow managed to take root in my mind, and I hated it. I hated how I couldn't get her out, how she lingered in every thought, every breath.

As the final notes of the encore played and the crowd roared their approval, I bowed with my team, smiling and waving. To them, it was another perfect performance.

But inside, I knew the truth.

Lisa wasn't here.

And it was driving me insane.

---

Yow fast pace but trust the phrase. lol