03. is dating me that bad?

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I must have misheard. The shock of killing someone has made my mind go haywire and now I'm imagining Jack saying such nonsensical words. 

"What did you say?" I sound unnecessarily aggressive like a little terrier snapping at something twice its size. 

"I said, I'll help you hide the body but in return, you have to be my girlfriend," Jack repeats solemnly. 

I look at him strangely. Is he drunk? That must be it. He's drunk and he's not thinking straight. "I'm not drunk," he says, reading my mind. It's always so disturbing when he does that. "I didn't touch the alcohol." 

"I don't understand." I'm still wrapping my mind over this mind-boggling deal. "First of all, it's illegal to help someone hide a body. If I get caught, you're getting caught too. Second, you want me to be your girlfriend? Girlfriend. As in someone you go on dates with, give adorable nicknames to, and kiss in the rain?" 

Jack looks slightly ill at the mention of all those activities but nods anyway. I am watching his expression for any sort of indication that this is a prank. Truth or dare, with his college buddies he saw on Tuesday lunch. He picked dare and being the misogynist, cruel, and uncaring people they are, they forced him to ask out the person he despised the most: me. Then afterward, when Jack explains what happens, they'll all have a good laugh. 

"You hate me," I say slowly. 

"I don't hate you," Jack responds. "I just find you slightly insufferable." 

I explode like a grenade. "See? Why would you date someone you find insufferable? And why me, specifically?" 

Jack hums thoughtfully. "You're the only one I can blackmail." 

"You—" I'm about to curse him out but refrain from doing so. As much as I hate it, I need to hear more details about the deal. "Okay. So. Okay. You want to dispose of the body and then I'll become your girlfriend." 

He nods and I'm speechless. "Let me think. Give me a minute. No, ten minutes." 

I step away, trying to organize my thoughts. The pros of the deal. Getting rid of the dead body. A delayed arrest. Cons? Guilt, criminality, sins weighing on my soul, etc. Plus... 

I look at Jack, who returns my stare with a challenging arch of his eyebrow. "What's wrong?" he drawls. "Is dating me that bad?" 

"Yes.

Despite his terrible attitude, Jack Lim is gorgeous. Soft black hair that falls into casually messy bangs. Whiskey-colored eyes, framed by thick sooty lashes. A full mouth that rarely curls into a smile, unless it's to smirk at my uselessness. But still. Even if he's drop-dead gorgeous, I wouldn't willingly date someone like him. 

"Give me more information about being your girlfriend," I say. "I can't decide if I'm left with a vague deal." 

"If you must know, we aren't going to actually date." 

The moment the words come out, my head snaps up so hard, my neck cracks. "Are you talking about fake dating?" I ask in disbelief. The quick bob of his head confirms that the world is ending soon. "Wait, why, though?" 

He looks embarrassed as hell and I take a mental screenshot. This will go in the section of my brain where pictures of Jack—surprisingly not being an arrogant piece of scum—hang. So far, I have three pictures of him hanging with golden frames. The words underneath: Jack being a normal human being. I guess there's a fourth picture now. 

"I just do." Jack is stubborn, but so am I. I tilt my head, motioning for him to continue. Jack struggles with his words. It's beautiful. "It's... for a wedding." 

"Oh." I think for a second. "So your ex is marrying your brother and everyone's going to be gossiping about you, so you decide to bring a mysterious woman to prove that you've totally moved on?" 

"What? No!" He's bewildered. "I don't even have a brother." 

"Oh. Then... the only way you can receive the family inheritance is through marriage, so you've brought me along so you can steal the inheritance from your elder sister." 

"Isla. No. And I don't have a sister." 

"Then—" 

"Isla. Are you going to take the deal or not?" 

I'm hesitating. This one decision could potentially affect my future—and in a negative one, at that. If I hide the body with Jack, I'm a criminal. I could get arrested and my jail sentence would be long. 

I know all that, yet when I look at the dead body, I can't think straight. Say no, Isla. I want to say no. I hate Jack. I hate weddings. I hate the thought of going to jail. 

But when the room closes in on me, my throat tightens and in my mind, I admit another truth: I do not want to suffer alone—so I do the impossible. I say the one word that turns my world upside down. "Okay," I say in a tiny voice. 

More proof that the world is about to end. I wait for the explosions to signal the end of the world, but they do not come. What does come is Jack saying in a bored voice, "Louder." 

I glower at him and he does a full-bodied shrug. "You don't seem confident in your decision," replies Jack. "I don't want you backing out anytime soon. So, are you in?" 

"Actually," I hiss venomously, "I might rethink my decision because I don't want to be stuck with you during a wedding. You'll forever ruin weddings for me." 

Jack doesn't answer, just continues to wait for my answer. "Fine," I concede, defeated. "I'm in." 

He smiles, tinged with triumph and smugness. I want to slap the expression off his face, but I remind myself not to resort to violence. 

"Now," says Jack, "we'll need a wheelchair." 

There is no wheelchair nearby, so we settle for something less: a shopping cart. As I enter the restaurant while pushing a shopping cart, I die of embarrassment. In my head, I'm fuming. Why can't Jack pretend to be drunk and drunkenly push a shopping cart into the restaurant? Because I didn't touch my drinks and you did, he reminded me. Personally, I think he wants to embarrass the hell out of me so I know what real suffering feels like. 

I force myself to act drunk, stumbling on my feet. In the process, I accidentally ram the shopping cart into the dining table and a tiramisu slides into the cart. Everyone stops eating and stares at me. I curse because Jack is going to kill me. Don't attract attention, Jack said. Don't get interrogated by anyone. 

"Isla, what are you doing with a shopping cart?" Irene asks slowly. Everyone is awaiting my response and for a split second, I consider my options: 1. ignoring her 2. telling her in a flat tone, "I'm drunk" 3. singing "America the Beautiful." 

I go with the first option and people start murmuring. I change my mind and go with the second option. "I'm drunk," I declare and people nod like it all makes sense now. 

Before anyone else can stop me, I roll the shopping cart into the bathroom hall. When I'm sure there's no one following me, I knock on the bathroom door. Jack opens the door a crack and then pulls me in. 

"You got everything, yes?" asks Jack, and I nod. 

In the shopping cart, there are blankets, gloves, ropes, and Halloween decorations. When Jack gives me the signal, we slowly lift Aiden into the shopping cart. His body lands with a soft thud and when the blanket rises to cover Aiden, all I can think is, How tragic. 

Guilt nags at me and my hands tremble when I toss Halloween decorations over the blanket-covered body. The cartoon bat smiling widely does nothing to lift my mood. 

"Wait," I say, just as Jack is about to wheel the shopping cart out of the bathroom. "I need a moment." 

Jack glances pointedly at his imaginary watch but doesn't push it. I'm sorry, Aiden, I think. He'll never have a future. He'll never have Irene and they'll never date and he'll never have children like he's always wanted. He'll never bless anyone with his bright smile and optimistic personality. He'll never grow old and watch the sunset, content with his life. Aiden's life was taken away from him, a sudden whiplash—and I'm responsible. Please forgive me. 

I don't feel better. If anything, I feel worse. It feels like Aiden's ghost is glowering down at me, furious. I'll never forgive you, the ghost declares, the air growing colder. Perhaps the ghost will kill me back, as revenge. He'll keep making the air grow colder until my lungs are frozen and my skin has become ice. 

"Isla." Jack banishes the thoughts of cold air. "You ready?" 

I take a deep breath. "Yes." Absolutely not. 

When I roll the shopping cart out of the bathroom, Jack and I are in our acting mode. "Really, you didn't need to buy all this," Jack says, flustered, as he follows on my heel. 

"It's okay," I say, laughing tipsily. "Your niece wants Halloween decorations, I'll get them Halloween decorations." 

"You're drunk," he gently reprimands and everyone gapes at Jack. They have never seen Jack talk to me without a note of condensation and he must've noticed because his mouth twists into a scowl. "You're a mess. I'll get you a taxi." 

We casually stroll out of the restaurant with a body and no one stops us—until Roxie from HR runs up to us when we're halfway to Jack's car. "That looks heavy," he says, eyeing the cart. "I can help load it into the car." 

"No!" I shout, before hastily looking away. "I mean, it's not that heavy, so you don't have to trouble yourself." 

"It's no trouble," Roxie says pleasantly. If he's noticed our squirmy reactions, he doesn't show it. "I'll just—" 

"Stop," commands Jack, and Roxie freezes. Jack leans close to Roxie, a wolf about to pounce on his prey. He whispers something into Roxie's ear, whose eyes widen with realization. 

"Oh," says Roxie, backing away. "Oh, my. Well." He's surprised but pats Jack on the back. "Good luck, buddy." 

Then he leaves, but not before shooting us a dubious look. "What did you say?" I ask. 

"Something stupid," replies Jack, and leaves it at that. We carry the body into Jack's black Audi and I snort. I can't believe it. All those daydreams of Jack carrying bodies into his car trunk are coming true. 

Jack slides into the driver's seat, while I go into the passenger one. We don't look at each other. "Where do we put the body?" I finally ask. "In the woods, under the house—" 

"Certainly not under the house," Jack says with a frown that tells me I'm an idiot. "Unless it's under your house. In that case, I give my full support." 

"Annoying bastard," I mutter. 

"What was that?" 

"I said, what if we dig a hole in the middle of a forest and put the body there?" 

Jack ponders on that. "It could work," he says slowly. "But I have another method that doesn't involve getting our hands dirty. I might have someone who could bury the body for us." 

"What kind of person are you," I ask dubiously, "to know 'someone who could bury the body for us?'" 

He smiles tightly. "You wouldn't want to know. Anyway, here's the plan: I'll drop you off at your house, and at two, we can go find that person. He lives relatively close." 

"Wait, two p.m.?" 

"Two a.m.," he corrects. "This person is an... early riser. Now tell me where to go." 

I start instructing him how to get to my house, but the whole time, I'm distracted. By the time we arrive at my house, I've half lost my mind. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jack tells me and I unlock my door and stumble in. I collapse onto the sofa and close my eyes. As the darkness tugs me into dreamland, I pray this is all a nightmare. 

Unfortunately, exactly at the stroke of two a.m., Jack shows up in front of my house. 

*** 

author's note: hiii everyone, not me going through my top songs 2022 playlist and playing it on repeat- question: how would you (hypothetically ofc) hide a dead body? 


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