Wavy Jeans

An intensely bright blue. Signifies a calm, clear-minded, and altruistic individual who spreads their generosity among strangers and close friends.

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I didn't have soap in the shower.

It was a Thursday night after practice. I decided to shower in the locker room since I was dripping sweat and full of chalk after high bar work. Costa and Donnell were the only others in the gym, as all the other groups had already left. 

Our group trains from 8 AM to 8 PM, unlike the others who stop at 4 PM. Even when the main gym isn't available because the women's gymnastics team is training, we're practicing in other rooms. Always training. Constantly sweating. Toiling under pressure.

So I was in the shower, trying to wash off the remnant of hard work. And I didn't have soap.

"Ughhh!" I didn't mean for my groan of disappointment to be as loud as it was. Alas, my voice carried and echoed poignantly off of the tiles. Someone else HAD to hear it. Or should I say, someone else whom I really didn't want to hear it, did.

"Jeon?" I heard Costa yelling in the locker room, a curious note in his timbre. "What's wrong?"

What the hell, I thought. Might as well ask him to get my soap so I don't have to leave the shower. "I don't have soap! Could you...could you grab my soap from my locker?"

"Yes!" Costa appeared ready to help. "Which locker is yours?"

 Gritting my teeth in an unconscious grin, I smacked the shower wall. Water flung in the private stall, and I shook my head at the tile. "You know which locker is mine!"

Silence, as a response. So he was being a smartass. I groaned. 

"The one next to yours, Costa!"

"Which one?" Oh, that little shit. I could hear the snickering in his voice. I even considered getting out of the shower and just grabbing the soap myself so I wouldn't have to put up with his antics. Or I could ask Donnell, but I wasn't sure if he was in there.

"LEFT!" I shouted, half-amused against my will. "My combination is 34-13-20!"

Silence again. Did he hear me? I wondered. Did he leave the locker room, leave me to fend for myself? After a few more seconds of waiting, I reached for the towel hanging off the stall door. I decided to leave the water running. I'd only be out shortly to retrieve my soaps.

The towel I knotted around my waist. Quickly I unlocked the stall, stepping out to collide directly with my competitor.

"Oh!" I flinched back, my bare shoulder blades slamming into the stall. Costa's arm reached out and grabbed my elbow to steady me. I noted he was shirtless too, probably preparing to take a shower himself. "Costa! Woah."

In his hands: my favorite moisturizing honey body wash along with my Korean shampoo, conditioner, and other beauty products. Costa probably couldn't read which ones were soap or not given his inexperience with Hangul. He brought my lotion, face cream, cut ointment, sanitizer, and even my nail clipper. The purpose of bringing the nail clipper, I'll never know.

"Here." He extended the pulsing red-doused objects out to me. Looking into his eyes, I swear I saw a flicker of something foreign and shocking from someone as self-possessed as him. I saw mild, teetering embarrassment. 

"Here." He repeated, after I hadn't taken anything.

I couldn't help but laugh. He practically shoved the pile of products in my hands as I stood there. Why was he acting like that? I pondered. 

"Uh, thanks." I turned around, the shower water beckoning me back in the stall. That's when I realized why he'd been acting strange. My towel was caught on the door, must have slipped down when he ran into me. A flaming red hot sensation hit my heart as the towel tugged off of me before I could make it into the stall. The soaps fell from my hands as I rushed to pick the towel up.

No biggie, I frantically thought...I can't be that scary naked. Costa himself frequently idles about the locker room in a thin towel after his showers, and that cloth leaves little to the imagination. 

But the air was suddenly suffocating, red droplets choking out my capacity to breathe. Costa's figure loomed about me, and for some reason it set my body into a frenzy. I gave up on the soaps, leaving them sprawled on the ground as I disappeared into the stall. The slam of the stall door scared me in the way a coward jumps at his shadow. 

There was now a barrier between his expanding red cloud and me, but my body still pressed desperately against the cold surface. I don't know why. 

I know exactly why.

That red...that deep red wave of tumultuous waters wasn't just competitive, wasn't strong nor motivated.

It was desirous.

Costa soon left, but I was horrified and confused to find myself waiting to be trapped in that thick cloud again. My palms slid down the stall door. I dubiously stared down at the bottles of soap skewn around the tile. My skin felt electric, mouth drawn in a frown as I spotted something else that Costa left behind. This time, he left it on my body.

Hurriedly, I turned the shower to the coldest setting to purge all thoughts from my mind.

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Out the car window, water droplets pelt against the brittle Phoenix soil, rushing to sink into the Earth with an utter lack of grace.

In Phoenix, precipitation is sparser than elsewhere in the nation. And for that reason, the absence of sunshine is viewed with childish and eager expectation.

Jungkook presses his  mask against the window as the taxi driver urges its two occupants forward in the mild rain. His eyes follow the storm clouds looming above the city, pouring onto the tall buildings as a sprinkler might put out a campfire. The hot pavement steams as water licks its surface, and mist pools low on the ground.

"Kinda neat, isn't it?" From his side, McKayla Maroney taps at her window. A few flecks of rain splash the glass and coalesce in the center. "How the whole city looks so glamorous and hot in the sun but then sulks in the shower. Like, wow."

Absently, Jungkook trails a tear-shaped drop with a finger, racing the drop to the edge of the glass. "Yes, it's a change. Does it rain a lot where you're from?"

McKayla hums in the negative. "Not too much. I'm from Aliso Viejo, California. It's kinda similar to Phoenix but less boiling hot. Haha! What about you, sir Jeon Jungkook?"

He turns towards her, the cheeky female gymnast from California who he's asked to come shopping with him. Even though it was almost nine PM when he'd called her (and Coach Kan would definitely not approve of this starlit rendezvous) he wanted to get outside. Get some much needed fresh air.

Ever since the locker room incident with Costa, his nerves and heart have been undulating in confusion. Maybe getting fresh air and purchasing new clothes would remedy that gnawing, distasteful sensation.

Plus, McKayla's pink outwardness for him is oddly comfortable. It's a mutual attraction, an interested companionship that doesn't demand or impede as harshly as intense desire does. Jungkook shivers as memories of Costa intrude his thoughts. He brushes it off before responding to her.

"I'm from Busan, South Korea. There it rains a lot. In Busan, there are these big storms--um, wait, hang on." Jungkook pulls out his phone, typing into the translating app he's become accustomed to. McKayla watches him attentively, a half-smile on her lips. Finally, Naver gives him the right word. "Oh, in English they're called...tie...uh, typhoons?"

McKayla opens her mouth in recognition. "Ahh, yes. I see. Typhoons. Yikes! Those are nasty storms. It must rain so much there. In California we don't really get storms like that. Typhoons, I mean."

"Huh." Jungkook strains his eyes to see a fragment of flamingo pink twirling between them. It's difficult to see her aura in the dark taxi, but the occasional illuminance of street lights provides him enough time to catch the gist of the colors. He's so caught up in the spiraling pinks that he doesn't realize she's still staring at him.

"You're so darn cute."

Jungkook doesn't know if he hears it right. "Darne queue? What does that mean?"

She crinkles her nose at him but says nothing. He nervously adjusts the black mask over his nose, waiting in her eyes. No answer comes, so he slinks back into his seat, staring at the rain fall past the taxi windows. Soon, the taxi pulls up in the front of a large mall entrance. McKayla hands the cabby the correct amount of cash before Jungkook can lift a hand. She motions for him to get out.

Jungkook steps onto a well-lit sidewalk, silently thanking the rain for tempering the devilish heat of day. Before he can turn towards McKayla, his hand is seized by her strong grip. His mind lags behind what is happening while his body reacts quickly, getting tugged to a running pace. His feet canter toward the entrance while rain escapes the clouds all around them. By the time they hop and leap over puddles and the slippery curb, he's laughing under his mask. 

McKayla "eeeeks!" the entire time, only shushing when she opens the door to the side entrance of the building. Sparse are the mall-goers at this hour. As Jungkook steps over the threshold he notes only a few people milling around the storefronts. The lack of people in the vicinity gives him hope.

"Well that was fun!" McKayla is bleeding pink now, their connected hands at the center of production. "But man, seeing your vault speed at practice...and running with you now! I'd never believe you were an Olympic gymnast, slowpoke."

Jungkook tears his hand away, pulling the mask down his face. "I was not slow!"

"Yes, you were!" McKayla walks close by his side, matching his strides. Their wet shoes screeeek and squaaap against the floor, especially Jungkook's neon Adidas ones. "Slowpoke Jeon. It seemed like you wanted to stand in that rain and get drenched...aside from that, what store are you interested in shopping for clothes in? I'm guessing a sporty one given your outfit now. Should we check out the Under Armor store? No, no maybe the Macy's? Or...well, I don't think they have an Adidas store around here...let's go this way! Wow, your shoes are really squeaky. Mine are too, like, why do they squeak for so long after they get wet? Gosh! Okay, here...here! Can we please go in this store?"

Jungkook stares at the window she's pointing at, expecting to see sparkly lingerie or some other embarrassing merchandise that he'd suffer to stand in front of. But when his eye meets rows upon rows of band tees, his face lights up. Heavy rock pours from the mouth of the store, and by the looks, no one is in there.

"If you don't want to go, I'll go in by myself. Just to look around a bit." McKayla glances at him. 

"I want to go in." Jungkook starts walking towards the dark interior of the story, instantly loving it. He floats over to the wall displaying tons of band T-shirts, from Metallica to Foo Fighters...Gorillaz to the Eagles to Led Zeppelin and Nirvana. His mouth gapes as he tilts his chin up to behold the beautiful wall. His original intent of coming to the mall was to get new shorts and a few tanks for training, but now all he can see are logos of musicians he adores.

"You big on rock?" McKayla peeps at his hip. He nods, eyes still glued to the wall. Choosing which ones he wants will definitely be the hardest part. Plus, he already has some of the Metallica ones back in Busan. "I didn't realize you were a Hot Topic guy."

Jungkook breaks his punkish reverie for a second, squinting at the gymnast. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Nope!" McKayla grins at him and lifts her eyebrows. "I'm going to go dig around in Diagon Alley for Hufflepuff merch and then maybe try to find this pair of Squirtle socks I've been wanting for a long time. I'll be back!"

Perplexed by the choice of phrases, Jungkook shrugs at her back. He has no idea what any of that means, but if she's getting something out of this shopping trip, then he's glad. He turns back towards the band tees, bopping his head to the guitar blasting through the loud speakers.

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"Put it on! Put in on...there, oh there! You look great. Wow..."

On the ride home, a few crinkled bags sit between them, filled with various shirts and Phoenix knick-knacks that Coach Kan would scold him for getting. Naturally, he couldn't help purchasing a cactus since McKayla picked out one that she said 'defined his physique'--a proud little purple-tinged succulent that almost appeared to wave if turned the right way.

"Does it look okay?" Jungkook fingers the material of the Nirvana T-shirt, his chin touching his chest as he straightens the white angel figure on the fabric. He bought four shirts total, succumbing to his interests instead of his spending restraints. "Or is it too small? Maybe I should have bought an extra large-"

"You look--it looks really good." McKayla briefly runs curious fingers along the angel's wings before pulling her hand away. She clears her throat, shifting in the car seat. Jungkook blinks at the nervous spikes of crimson tainting her pink and thinks about what to say. 

"Um...so...I had a lot of fun shopping. I'm glad you could come with me." 

Jungkook allows himself to be honest. Without McKayla there he probably would have just wandered around aimlessly, buying one shirt if he were lucky. A fluent English speaker at his hip was more than enough reassurance for him to do what he wanted.

McKayla crosses her legs, folding in on herself ever so slightly. Her normal Bratz-doll drawl has sobered pointedly. "I had...fun too."

Jungkook senses something under her voice. It's odd, as he hasn't seen this serious and conserved part of McKayla yet. Probably because he's only ever seen her outside of the gym. With a leotard on in practice, Jungkook's sure she's as serious as ever. She must hold it in until she steps out of the large swinging glass doors into the hallway of the gym, where she can be unforgivably McKayla.

"Really? You did?"

McKayla shifts around. "Yes. Didn't I just say I had fun? Do I need to prove it or something?"

The Korean blinks at her dark figure in the car seat next to him. The taxi bumps along, and outside the window he can see the looming profile of the Phoenix Power Arena. Its powerful frame is luminated up by angled flood lights, appearing to extend its gargantuan size even higher in the sky. Jungkook bites on his lip. "Prove? What do you mean prove?"

"I..." McKayla seems to have trouble speaking, as if her tongue is caught in between her teeth. Jungkook waits, eyeing the the approaching apartment complex as it enlarges on the horizon. "I..."

"I know you had fun." Jungkook doesn't want to make her feel awkward. He rifles around in one of the bags between them, pulling out the mini cactus he bought at one of the tourist shops. He doesn't really have a strong affinity for house plants. McKayla might want another one, like a token of his appreciation. He holds it out, but in the dark the plant is difficult to spot.

"Here." He says, hoping she'll find it.

"Here what? Oh--oh." McKayla's hand bumps against his knuckles as she discovers  the object. "OW! Ow, damn it! Why didn't you tell me you were holding out a cactus!"

"Oh...sorry!" A flush of realization and embarrassment hits Jungkook like a slap to the face. Before he can stop himself, he swears in Korean, pulling his hand back. Of course when he was trying to be nice, he had to go and shove a pointy cactus in the girl's hand. Of course.

McKayla bursts into giggles. "What? What did you say? Sheebbal? What does that mean?"

His silence tells her all she needs to know. Jungkook cringes as the taxi driver halts the car with a rambunctious McKayla at his hip, goading him into repeating the swear so she can learn it. Scooping the shopping bags up, he hops out of the cab and hurries towards the apartment building.

"That must mean something bad! Jungkook, telllll meeeee, please?" McKayla circles around him like a crow stalking a sickly, dying animal. She grins at him under the complex's parking lot lights, tossing glare-laughs his way every time he dares to look at her. He can't stand to look much since her aura is a scary pink. 

Scary because of how fast it has developed for him.

"Shibal." Jungkook stops in his tracks. He stares directly at her. "Shibal! It means fuck in English. Okay?"

McKayla's eyes sparkle at the new word added to her vocabulary bank. Her smile is contagious, melting through the air and worming onto Jungkook's lips. They stand. Stare at each other. The Korean feels her pink showering over him like a thousand flower petals. She's undeniably attracted to him, although he doesn't quite get why. He just stabbed her with a cactus.

"Hey...hey, Jungkook."

"What?"

"Guess what."

The Korean lifts a questioning brow. Sluggish raindrops spray onto their upturned faces, a cooling mist that both seem to enjoy. Above them, the closed and curtained windows of the apartment complex mirror shuttered eyelids in slumber.

Sleeping...exactly what Jungkook is supposed to be doing right now. Instead, he's here.

"Um...I guess we should probably go inside?" He tries. Pink tinted raindrops fog his view.

"Shibal!"

Jungkook's lips bend upward in a laugh as McKayla says it again. She actually pronounces it well. Her hair is now damp with rain from their idiotic loitering in front of the lobby. Strands of brown hair paste against her temples, frame her red cheeks.

"SHIBAL!"

"Why are you swearing?" Jungkook finally cuts into her cursing bout.

"Because..." Some of the confidence she was missing before comes back potently hot, steaming the rain off her brow. "Because you're really, like really attractive when you're wet."

The smile is wiped from his lips. He feels something churning around in his stomach.

But before he can reply in words, he takes McKayla's hand in his own.

Then, he tugs her hard enough to make her stumble, urging them towards the apartment building before they can get soaked more. Whether he did it to hide his blush from her sharp gaze or to escape the rain, McKayla is none the wiser.

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note from authAURA

hi splendid reader,

to keep this short, I genuinely wish from all the rain gods in the sky that your day is wavy jeans awesome because it's always better to be generous to others than to be selfish. thank you for reading, i love you!

iz.