Chapter Text
"I’m getting married."
Minji was busy grilling meat over a portable gas stove. The humid Seoul summer clung to them like a second skin. They sat on plastic chairs, a table crowded with side dishes and dipping sauces between them.
She dropped the bombshell with the same casual tone someone might use to mention putting on underwear.
Haerin paused mid-pour, the soju bottle tilted in her hand. She blinked once at Minji, then resumed pouring like nothing had happened. "Damn. Poor Hanni."
Minji scoffed, dramatically offended. "She loves me very much, thank you."
Haerin smirked. Teasing Minji never got old. She felt genuinely happy for her cousin—she’d seen that relationship bloom from the sidelines for years. "Why so soon, though? I mean, you just graduated like two years ago. I thought you’d wait a bit more."
Minji grabbed a few pieces of meat with the tweezers and placed them on the younger’s plate. Haerin mumbled a "thank you." They clinked their shot glasses and took a sip.
"We’ve been girlfriends for seven years. Why wait more when I know she’s the one?" Minji replied with a dreamy tone.
"Hm, makes sense."
They both munched on their food, savoring the moment.
"Plus, she’s always said she wants to get married at twenty-four, just like her parents, so... I just went for it."
"So that’s why Auntie texted me last week saying you had big news. I thought the big shock would be that your brain finally started working."
Minji shot her a glare but kept eating, too content to let Kang Haerin ruin her newly engaged bliss.
"Our parents are paying for everything. I think they’re more excited than we are." Minji kept munching on her food. "It’s in Australia, the event will last a few days."
The younger whistled. "They’re going all out."
"Do I have to attend?"
Minji stopped mid-movement and stared at her blankly. "It’s literally my wedding?" She slapped Haerin’s shoulder, making her drop her chopsticks.
"Ow! Just making sure."
"And I want you as my bridesmaid. No escape, Kang."
"Ughhhh, fiiiine," Haerin groaned with fake reluctance. In truth, she felt honored Minji chose her, but she’d never say it out loud. "I’ll go, my dearest cousin."
"Pack your bags. It’s coming sooner than you think." Minji gave her the smug smile she’d worn since childhood—the 'I know you love me but won’t say it' smile.
And as always, Haerin said nothing.
The big announcement had already been made days ago—by Hanni, in much more dramatic fashion.
Danielle would remember that FaceTime call as the loudest in history.
Hanni had been shaking, tears running freely down her cheeks, her smile wide enough to split her face in two. Minji stood behind her, practically buzzing with nerves and giddy energy, arms wrapped tight around her fiancée’s waist.
Phone in hand, Hanni had called her favorite cousin—her best friend—muttering frantic “oh my gods” while dialing.
The ringing screen gave way to Danielle, freshly out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her head. "Hanni, this better be a life or death situation because—"
"MINJI PUT ON HER BIG GIRL PANTS AND JUST PROPOSED TO ME!!"
Danielle froze, mouth hanging open. "What?"
Only then did she register the romantic background—some magical forested hilltop, candles, lanterns—very extra. Very Minji.
Minji waved into frame, grinning like a fool. Hanni shoved her left hand toward the camera, the diamond ring catching the light perfectly.
Then it hit Danielle.
A scream—so loud it probably startled a flock of birds and maybe pierced the upper atmosphere—exploded from her.
"OH MY GOD!" Her mouth was still open in shock. "NO WAY!" Her eyes crinkled as she jumped up and down, her towel giving up on life and falling off her head.
"I love you guys and I’m so happy for you, but let me get dressed before I flash you, and then you can tell me EVERYTHING!"
"Ew! No flashing, Danielle Marsh!" Hanni squealed, covering Minji’s eyes with both hands.
When they got back from their romantic trip, Hanni FaceTimed Danielle for the entire drive home. Even once they arrived, Minji was left unpacking the trunk while Hanni threw herself onto their bed, chatting away for hours. Somewhere between engagement details and life updates, she confirmed that yes, Danielle would be a bridesmaid. No drama necessary.
A month later, when everybody and their mother learned about Hanni and Minj’s engagement, the date for the wedding finally arrived.
Business class had that annoying air of luxury that Danielle both appreciated and resented. It was quiet. Peaceful. Clean. She was not going to be the chaotic one here.
And yet, there she was, elbow-deep in an overhead bin, wrestling with her stubborn carry-on like it had just declared war on her personal space.
“Need help with that?” came a voice, low and polite, with the faintest hint of amusement.
Danielle turned her head, ready to politely decline—only for the suitcase to betray her completely and slip. It didn’t fall hard, just a light thunk, but enough to land squarely on the stranger’s forehead.
“Oh my god!” she gasped, flinching. “Are you okay?!”
The woman blinked, touched the spot above her brow, and winced dramatically. “Wow. Attacked on an airplane. I knew I should’ve stayed home.”
Danielle, still mortified, was about to apologize again when the stranger reached up and easily tucked the suitcase into place. “There,” she said, glancing down at Danielle with a nod. “All good.”
“Thank you and I’m so, so sorry. You are completely allowed to sue me. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Danielle rambled, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
The woman gave a tiny smirk, brushing her dark hair behind her ear. “Only if you throw in in-flight snacks.”
Danielle laughed, half in relief. “Done. I’ve got mints, a half-smashed granola bar, and a winning personality.”
They both settled into their seats—of course, side by side. Danielle fastened her seatbelt, still recovering from the incident. She turned to her victim again. “Seriously, though, I owe you.”
“No permanent damage,” the woman said, tilting her head. “Although…”
Her gaze narrowed just a little, and Danielle caught her frowning in the softest, most confused way, tilting her head to the side.
“…Do I know you?”
Danielle blinked.
That voice. That particular shape of eyes. That head tilt.
A smile with poking canines.
And then, like someone flipped a switch, recognition hit them both.
“Oh my god,” Danielle whispered.
“You’re…” the woman started, mouth parting in surprise. “Dani?”
Danielle stared. “Haerin?”
They said it at the same time. And then silence. A beat. Maybe two. Danielle’s jaw slackened as her brain tried to process the very adult, very beautiful version of the twelve-year-old kid who used to weirdly stare at her with laser intensity and once asked her out with a ring pop, face covered in spaghetti sauce.
“You’re that Haerin?”
“Unless there’s another girl who once asked you out while covered in marinara sauce.”
“You were the weirdest kid ever. You also asked if we could get married and adopt a dog.”
“And you suggested calling it Jerry.”
“Still a solid name choice, honestly.”
Haerin broke into a grin, equal parts shy and smug. “Guess I waited long enough, huh?”
Danielle snorted. "You dork. What are you—how are you—why are you going to Australia?"
The years had changed her, but that smile hadn’t. Haerin felt the years between them vanish and resettle all at once.
“My cousin is getting married, the wedding is taking place over there,” Haerin said simply, adjusting her white tee.
Danielle blinked. "No way. Mine too!"
Haerin’s stomach dropped for a second. "What’s your cousin’s name?"
"Hanni."
Haerin exhaled in relief. "Mine’s Minji."
Danielle’s eyes widened. "Minji is your cousin?!"
Haerin raised a brow. "You didn’t know?"
"No! Wait—this whole time?"
"Apparently," Haerin said with a small laugh, clearly enjoying Danielle’s mini-meltdown. "Guess fate’s got a sense of humor."
Danielle leaned back, still staring at her. "Okay. Wow. This is crazy. You look…"
She trailed off, suddenly aware she was very much staring.
Haerin raised an eyebrow. "What? Say it."
"…You look so different," Danielle covered, flashing a grin.
"I’m twenty-two now, Dani."
"Yeah," Danielle muttered, smile lingering. "Time flies, huh."
The plane had taken off a while ago. The seatbelt sign was off, the lights dimmed. Most passengers were absorbed in their movies or already asleep. But not them. Danielle had turned halfway in her seat, one knee pulled up as she faced Haerin, a blanket loosely draped over her lap and a sweating water bottle in her hand.
"So," she began, tilting her head, "were you just going to sit next to me the whole flight and not say anything if I didn’t drop a suitcase on your head?"
Haerin smirked, sipping from her plastic cup. "I wasn’t sure it was you at first. But I wasn’t going to say anything until I was. I’ve embarrassed myself enough times in life, thank you."
Danielle laughed quietly. "You’re telling me. I once tried to babysit you while recovering from a breakup and ended up crying during Shrek 2 ."
"I remember that!" Haerin lit up. "You made popcorn and said, ‘This movie gets it.’ Then you made me pause it during Donkey’s transformation to talk about ‘unrealistic emotional standards.’"
Danielle covered her face with one hand. "God. You stared at me the whole time while I ugly cried. I really let twelve-year-old you see the messiest version of me."
Haerin shrugged with a crooked smile. "You were still the coolest person I knew."
Danielle peeked at her through her fingers. "You had a very low bar back then."
"Well," Haerin said, voice light but gaze steady, "I was a kid. But you mattered to me. You know I used to have a hard time socializing. You were the first person who really tried to talk to me. Even when I didn’t say anything for hours. I never forgot that."
Danielle felt a soft pang somewhere behind her ribs.
"You know," she said gently, "when you asked me out with a ring pop, face full of tomato sauce, I was trying so hard not to laugh in a way that would make you feel dumb."
Haerin grinned. "It was a very expensive ring. Blue raspberry. Limited edition."
"Bold choice."
"I had taste."
They both smiled—the kind of smile that stretched beyond the face, into memory.
A warm silence passed.
Danielle tilted her head again. "So. Now that you’re not twelve and I’m not seventeen and emotionally wrecked... Do I have to be worried about another candy proposal?"
Haerin leaned back slightly, arms crossed. "Not unless you’re really into edible jewelry."
Danielle raised her brows. "Are you flirting with me, Miss Kang?"
"Are you complaining?"
She smiled slowly. "I’m still deciding."
The flight attendant passed by with a snack basket. Both reached out at the same time, brushing fingers. Danielle let Haerin take the mini pretzels first.
As the woman walked away, Haerin spoke again, quieter this time.
"You really didn’t know I’d be there this weekend?"
Danielle shook her head. "Not a clue. Hanni’s tight-lipped about everything. Even the playlist is a state secret."
"Minji’s the same." A pause. Then, "I’m glad it’s you."
Danielle turned. "What is?"
Haerin met her gaze. "The person I sat next to."
Danielle didn’t answer right away. She just held her gaze, something tender sparking behind her eyes.
"...Me too."
They didn’t say much for the next little while.
But they didn’t stop smiling either.
Thirteen hours later, Danielle followed Haerin through the terminal’s glass doors, trying to act like they hadn’t spent the whole flight elbow-to-elbow, knees brushing, sharing stale airline cookies and nostalgic conversations.
The heat immediately rushed to greet them like an overeager host. They both squinted against the sunlight—Haerin in a loose white tee and Danielle in a floral blouse she was already regretting wearing. Clothes sticking in places they didn’t want to name.
Outside, Hanni was waving both arms like a traffic controller, iced coffee in hand. Next to her, Minji leaned against the car, her expression more chill—though her eyes sharpened as soon as they got close.
“There’s my girl!” Hanni pulled Danielle into a dramatic hug, swaying them both like they were long-lost lovers instead of cousins who hung out frequently.
Behind them, Minji gave Haerin a quick hug and then turned to Danielle.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey.” Danielle smiled, ignoring the very warm memory of accidentally dropping her carry-on on her cousin’s head less than six hours ago.
Minji’s eyes flicked between them. “You two already know each other?”
Danielle hesitated a second too long. “Kind of! Same flight.”
“Same row,” Haerin added. “Sat together.”
“You sat together?” Hanni raised a brow.
Haerin nodded once. “Yep.”
“Small world,” Danielle chirped. “Kinda funny, right?”
There was something too casual in her voice. Too practiced.
Minji narrowed her eyes just slightly. “Did you know each other before that?”
Haerin shrugged, slow and cool. “Sort of. Long time ago.”
Danielle changed the subject fast. “So, the hotel? Are we ready to crash? I mean—not crash like the car! Like, sleep crash. You get it.”
Hanni blinked. “You're already weird.”
The lobby was marble wherever you looked; everything appeared to be way too perfect. There wasn’t even a noisy child giving a hard time to their parents.
Minji and Hanni left them to greet some relatives, so they were awkwardly standing side by side. Danielle was still blinking, half-reeling from the sight of Haerin in that white tee and crooked grin, her mind short-circuited at the way sunlight caught on her face. Then a new voice snapped the moment like a twig.
“You two know each other? Excellent. That’s two problems solved with one nostalgic meet-cute.”
Danielle turned.
A really tall girl—no, a woman—in a sleek tan pantsuit and kitten heels strutted toward them, balancing an iPad, a coffee the size of a toddler, and the pure energy of someone ten minutes behind schedule on purpose.
Her hair was up in a loose bun that probably took thirty minutes to make look careless, and her gaze swept over them both like she was mentally assigning them a category.
“You’re Haerin, right? You’re walking Minji down the aisle tomorrow. It’s a rehearsal, but don’t you dare be late—she will cry, and not in the photogenic way.”
“And you,” she turned to Danielle, already tapping on her iPad, “Danielle Marsh, former honor student, speech club president, debate club vice president, and apparently a bridesmaid with no dress code awareness. That’s okay. We’ll fix it.”
Danielle blinked. “I—what? I’m not—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hyein said, still doing something on her iPad. “You’re on the welcome committee. With Haerin. I needed an unresolved history. For dramatic balance.”
A beat.
“Kidding,” she added. “Mostly.”
Before she started moving again, “Oh, and by the way,” she glanced up at them, like she was doing them a favor by posing her eyes on them. “The aunties brought an extra cousin. So we had to shift room pairings. You’re sharing a room.”
A pause. Not long enough for anyone else to notice, but just enough for Haerin and Danielle to glance at each other, and then not glance again.
She handed Danielle a clipboard, winked at Haerin, and disappeared around a pillar with a shout of “Minji can you stop hogging Hanni?! She has stuff to rehearse!”
The silence that followed stretched, warm and shocked. Danielle looked at the clipboard. Then at Haerin.
“Who is that?” she whispered.
Haerin looked perplexed, still watching the spot Hyein had vanished into. “I don’t know, but every sentence felt like a death threat.”
“Anyway, we’re sharing a room. You cool with that?” Haerin asked, brows furrowed.
“Totally,” Dani nodded. “I mean, we survived thirteen hours on a plane. What’s a few nights?”
“Yeah,” Haerin added, deadpan. “We already know who hogs the armrest.”
“You said I could take it!” Danielle scoffed, playfully slapping the younger’s shoulder. Haerin laughed, smoothly taking the older woman’s suitcase from her grasp by the handle. “How about I take our luggage to the room and you start getting ahead on the welcoming task—you’re better at socializing anyway.”
Danielle smiled in gratitude. “Sounds good, but don’t you dare leave me hanging, Kang Haerin! This is a two-man task.” She threatened with a finger, already moving toward a relative she recognized.
“Wouldn’t think of it.” Haerin gave her a thumbs up and rolled the suitcases toward the front desk.
The room key beeped. Haerin opened the door to 722 and stepped inside. One glance, and she stopped. It was not because of the beautiful ocean view.
There, in the center of the softly lit room, was a single bed.
A big, fluffy, pristine single bed.
She looked around like someone on a hidden camera show. “Minji? You can come out now.”
No response.
Just making sure.
She sighed, dramatically and with feeling. “Of course. Of course this is happening.”
It was almost too perfect. Plane seat buddies? Sure. Rooming together? Okay. One bed? Now it felt like some higher force was watching and rubbing their hands with popcorn.
She was still frozen in the doorway when a little voice behind her said, “Haerin, are your feet glued to the floor or what? Can you move?”
Haerin turned just in time to see one of her younger cousins giving her an unimpressed look.
Definitely Aunt Jennie’s kid.
“Right. Sorry.” She wheeled the suitcases into the room and quickly shut the door behind her.
Once everything was in place, she stepped back out and headed down to the lobby to meet Danielle.
The elevator dinged. She walked out and immediately spotted her again.
There Danielle stood, talking animatedly to a relative, her hair catching the warm light, her laugh cutting through the low hum of the room like a soft bell.
Haerin’s feet slowed without meaning to.
She always knew Danielle was good at people—effortlessly social, warm, magnetic. But seeing her now, years later, surrounded by strangers and still lighting up the room without trying?
Haerin couldn’t look away.
Danielle wasn’t just liked. She belonged.
And Haerin had always admired that.
Some people had charm. Danielle had something else.
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft ding, trapping them in the awkward silence that follows a long shift of greeting relatives with too many cheek kisses and too many versions of, “Oh, you’ve grown up so much!”
Danielle adjusted the strap of her tote bag, already glancing at her reflection in the polished metal walls.
Next to her, Haerin cleared her throat.
“By the way,” she said, like she’d just remembered, “small thing. There’s, um… a bed situation.”
Danielle blinked. “A bed situation?”
Haerin nodded, watching the numbers above the door. “Yeah. Just one. I can sleep on the floor, it’s not a big deal.”
Danielle turned toward her, eyebrows raised. “What? No, don't be silly, we can share.”
Haerin looked at her, half a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Are you sure? I don’t mind. I’ve slept in worse places. Gym floor. Airport bench. Bus to Busan.”
Danielle crossed her arms. “I’m sure. We’re adults. It’s just a bed.”
A pause.
“Unless you kick.”
“I don’t,” Haerin said quickly.
“Good,” Danielle replied, pretending not to notice the way her ears were burning. “Then it’s settled.”
The elevator dinged.
Inside the room, they took turns in the bathroom, trying not to comment on the single bed that sat in the middle like it had opinions.
Danielle stepped out of the bathroom last, her floral blouse replaced with a silky sage-green dress that had sleeves like petals and made her skin glow a little too warmly under the hotel lighting. Her brown wavy hair fell loose and soft down her back. She looked like someone who belonged on a catwalk, in every camera frame.
Haerin, who was mid-buttoning her light linen shirt, nearly missed one.
“You ready?” Danielle asked, grabbing a pair of earrings from her bag.
“Yeah,” Haerin said, voice slightly hoarse. “You look—nice. Very nice.”
Danielle smiled. “You too.”
She didn’t mean to make it sound like a problem, but it came out that way.
The welcome dinner was not so much a dinner as it was a full-scale wedding carnival disguised as a family event. Hyein had apparently misunderstood the assignment and decided to create a logistical labyrinth.
Within ten seconds of entering the tent, Haerin was pulled by two aunts who remembered her from some baby photo she didn’t approve of. Danielle was immediately adopted by a group of younger cousins demanding help with their TikTok welcome dance.
And somewhere—commanding the chaos like a benevolent villain—Hyein stood on a mini platform, headset mic and clipboard in hand, running everything like the navy.
They didn’t find each other again for nearly twenty minutes.
But when they did—across the room, through clusters of laughing relatives and pastel dresses—it was like gravity tugged.
Danielle’s eyes found Haerin like it was inevitable.
Haerin’s mouth tilted into that lazy smile she didn’t know she was doing, and Danielle—mid-sentence—completely forgot what she was saying.
Haerin mouthed: Hi.
Danielle mouthed back: Hi.
Somewhere, Hyein yelled: “No flirting across tables! That’s a tomorrow thing!”
And just like that, the spell broke, but both of them were grinning now.
And neither of them had stopped looking.
Throughout the whole evening, their gazes kept finding each other. It was some sort of pull that neither of them could stop—sometimes cheekily raising their eyebrows, smiling at each other. And, well, Haerin’s laser stare made an appearance sometime during this game.
The chaos of the welcome party had completely died down. Guests were gathering their belongings, eager to rest for tomorrow. Conversations faded, and relatives parted ways, already making plans for the following days.
Haerin walked out of the tent and approached a middle-aged woman who looked just like her. Laughing loudly with other older women, the woman didn’t notice her at first—so Haerin waited until she was alone.
“Wow, first day and already drunk?”
Her mother didn’t hesitate to smack her on the back of the head.
“Ow!”
“I only had a few glasses—don’t start, Haerin.”
Haerin snorted, amused by her mother’s irritation. “Relax, I’m joking.”
“I knew spending too much time with Kim Minji would turn you into this.” She shook her head in mock disapproval. “Hopefully, you’ll come to me soon with news of getting married too.”
Haerin’s eyes widened, struggling to contain her shock. “M-marriage? Woah, let’s slow down.”
Before the conversation could continue, a cheerful voice nearby called out, “Haerin!”
Both turned toward the approaching woman—beaming, eyes crinkled with happiness, practically skipping.
Haerin panicked a little. She looked… very good. Slightly disheveled hair, barefoot, sore feet forcing her to ditch her heels and carry them. The literal sun was walking towards her.
She tried to act natural and responded coolly, “Hey, Dani. What’s up?” Her tight-lipped smile betrayed her.
Danielle smiled warmly, never once taking her eyes off Haerin—completely unaware of the other presence.
“Ready to head up to the room?”
A throat cleared sharply. “Excuse me? Who is this, Haerin?” An authoritative voice demanded a response. The woman’s gaze was so sharp it made Haerin stutter.
“U-uh, she’s—”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
The tips of Haerin’s ears turned red. “No! She’s not—” She waved her hands wildly, brain scrambled, failing to form coherent words.
And Danielle? She watched it all with a mischievous smile. After a beat, she felt bad and decided to rescue Haerin.
“I’m Danielle Marsh, Hanni’s cousin.”
As soon as Haerin’s mom heard her name, her expression shifted entirely. “Danielle? Oh my God! Dear, how have you been?” Her sharp gaze softened into warmth. “Look at you,” she said, giving her an affectionate once-over. “All grown up. I always knew you’d turn into a beautiful woman.”
Danielle giggled, a little flustered. “You remember me?”
“Of course! Before you went off to college, you used to take care of this rascal.” She pinched Haerin’s cheek—harder than intended. Haerin endured it, determined not to let Danielle see her flinch. Even if it hurt like hell.
“Huh, didn’t know my daughter finally grew a pair and talked to a woman. She’s lucky someone as smart and beautiful as you is even looking her way.”
Okay, Haerin felt offended, but her dignity was at stake. So she gave her mom a look and started making desperate hand gestures, begging her to stop.
Danielle laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, thank you, but we’re not toget—”
“Are you getting married soon or not?” Her mother cut her off, grin so wide that Haerin almost felt bad for what she had to say next.
“N-no, Mom, we’re not together,” Haerin stammered. Get it together, she mentally reprimanded herself. “We haven’t seen each other in a decade. We ran into each other on the flight from Seoul and ended up as roommates for the trip.”
“Oh.” Her mother’s smile vanished.
“Well, that sucks. You’d make a cute couple.” She rolled her eyes, disappointment heavy in her tone. “Anyway, you should go rest. Tomorrow you both have an early rehearsal.” She motioned toward the path leading to the hotel buildings.
“Bye, Mrs. Kang! Rest well,” Danielle said cheerfully, having recovered from the awkwardness.
“Yeah, good night, Mom,” Haerin added, still visibly shaken.
As they walked toward the hotel, Haerin felt a strong stare on her back. She glanced behind—her mother was watching them and subtly pointed to Danielle’s hand carrying her heels.
It took Haerin a second, but she caught the hint.
“O-oh, let me help you with that.” She reached out and took the heels from Danielle.
From a distance, her mother rolled her eyes at her daughter’s poor game.
“Why, thank you, Haerinnie!” Danielle chirped, launching into a stream of chatter, a trillion things tumbling out. Haerin listened intently, ears still red, trying not to die from the nickname alone.
The elevator dinged as it arrived on the seventh floor. The doors slid open, and Haerin stepped aside, letting Danielle get out first.
“It was a freaking hard job talking with the teens. They all started speaking in TikTok language—cracking jokes I couldn’t understand for the life of me.”
“You’re acting like a grandma.”
“Well, they made me feel like one!”
They walked side by side until they reached their room.
“You’re just chronically offline, don’t worry.”
The card beeped, and a soft glow filled the room as the lights flickered on. Barely passing the threshold, Haerin left Danielle’s shoes neatly on the shoe rack. She was about to walk further when she suddenly stopped.
“What does that even mean?” Danielle bumped into Haerin’s back. Noticing she was frozen, not moving a single finger, her brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”
“Oh my god.” Danielle gently moved Haerin aside so she could see what was causing her to glitch. She looked around a bit until Haerin pointed to the floor. “A freaking GIANT cockroach.”
Huge, nasty bug—its antennae moving, wings twitching as if saying, I’m about to make you crash out.
And that it did.
A shriek.
Danielle literally jumped on Haerin, the younger barely reacting in time to catch her. She hugged Haerin’s neck like a koala gripping a tree, one arm under the folds of her knees, the other around her upper back. Her fists were respectfully clenched. But Haerin’s attention wasn’t on the sensation of Danielle practically glued to her—it was on the disgusting monster on the floor.
“Oh god,” her voice trembled pathetically. So much for trying not to look weak in front of the older woman. “Dani, kill it!”
“No! No killing bugs, Haerin!”
“But—”
“No buts! It has feelings!”
“So do I! And I feel like I’m about to pee my pants. Just smash it!”
“I don’t even have shoes on, Haerin! Just walk away or something.”
Haerin looked up skyward and sighed dramatically. “God, please help me. The things I do for pretty older women.”
“What?”
In ridiculous speed, Haerin jumped one foot over the bug and sprinted toward the bed, hopping up onto it.
“This does not solve our problem, Haerin!”
“I know!”
Then, in true mocking fashion, the bug decided to fly away into the hallway. Not even a second later, a woman in a hotel uniform appeared in the open doorway. She stepped inside and looked at the two women standing on the bed. Raising an eyebrow, she exhaled tiredly.
“Ladies, I know you’re excited for your honeymoon, but could you keep it down? And please close the door—nobody wants to see… your business. Thank you.”
Seeing the perplexed pair still frozen in place, she closed the door herself. They heard a faint “gay people and their stunts” muttered from outside.
Haerin’s eyes were wide, and all she could think was, What just happened? Danielle laughed nervously. “How about we get ready for bed?” she suggested, still hugging Haerin.
“Y-yeah. That’s a good idea.” Haerin carefully got off the bed and gently set Danielle down.
They took turns using the bathroom again, unable to hold eye contact for more than a second. Awkwardly, they took their sides of the bed and, facing opposite directions, muttered quick good nights.
Haerin wasn’t sure how she’d survive this whole ordeal. Danielle was sure she was getting gray hairs after this mess.
And it was only day one.