The second time walking around the school hallway with red hair isn't half as bad as the first, believe it or not.

People seem to move on pretty quickly with gossip and so I was no longer a hot topic. Well, it's that or maybe I've just gotten used to all the weird looks.

"You know, TOP has been sending you longing gazes all through class," Dara whispers from the seat beside me, interrupting me from my thoughts.

We are currently in period 4 Composed class, listening to Ms. Joy lecture us on how to get emotional and heartless on the lyrics.

"I've noticed," I comment with a small smile, "Now shhhh. We need to know this stuff for the test in two weeks."

As much as I am flattered that Tabi has been glancing my way during class, I don't want to discuss the topic with Dara. I'm confused (and a little dubious) about the whole 'Tabi-inviting-me-to-a-party' thing. Why the sudden interest?

Maybe he really likes red.

"But Ms. Joy is so boring," Dara groans, "I feel like sleeping."

"Don't be rude," I chide, "If everyone got their way, I'm sure we'd all be taking a nap right now, but that's not fair for Ms. Joy or the students that do want to listen."

Dara waves a dismissive hand at me, "At the end of the day, she still gets paid. Who cares?"

"I hope that isn't talking I hear," Ms. Joy calls, glancing over at Dara and I with a warning look. I slightly frown. Hey, I had your back.

Tabi glances my way, and for the first time in class our gazes cross paths. I send him a small smile and he returns the gesture before turning back to the front of the class to face Ms. Joy.

"TopBom, ToBom, Alien...?" Dara hums quietly, and I shoot her a weird glance. "I'm trying to come up with a good couple name for you and TOP," she explains nonchalantly, "TopBom, Barbie & Ken..." she continues.

This was going to be a long day.

▲ ▲ ▲

"Thanks for the help, Bom," Daesung states, "Realy helpful. I'm starting to make a lyrics better now, which is great because then I won't need to be tutored anymore," Daesung stands up with a lazy smile on his face.

"That's great, Dae," I reply as I gather my books. Daesung is a guy that I tutor for Composing. He's a wild, party kind of guy that only ever worries about getting girls, getting drunk and getting high. "It's great to know that my Singing lessons have helped you with your Composing."

My comment doesn't faze Daesung and he sends me a smile, "Yeah. Okay, goodbye," and then he leaves.

I make my way to the cafeteria and when I arrive at my table, Dara speaks immediately, "I think I might vomit," she mumbles, gazing over at Jiyong - correction - Jiyong and a leggy blonde who sits on his lap with her clothes and hair disheveled. The two were playing an intense game of tongue hockey, if you know what I mean.

"Just look away," I laugh as I pull my sandwich out of my bag and take a bite out of it. Jealousy flares within me. So he isn't mean to her - A girl he just met.

"I've just lost my appetite," Dara declares, pushing her lunch tray away from her.

"Suit yourself," I smile, fetching her small bucket of fries and sitting it in front of me.

Dara shoots me a look of annoyance, "Tell me this isn't annoying you," she waves her hand in Jiyong and Blondie's direction.

"This isn't annoying me," I state with a sly smile, "He can do what he likes. It's not the first time he's done that, anyway. Remember? He used to make out with girls all the time."

"That doesn't make it any less disgusting," she mutters, "He's gotta be carrying some form of STI's. I'd be worried if I were her."

"Yeah - worried when he'll dump my . The guy's never kept a girl for any longer than a week."

"There's the snarky girl I love," she chuckles, "Hey, what did he do when he found out you're still staying at his?" she queries curiously.

"He doesn't know. I was sneaking around the house all morning," I reply with a sheepish smile.

Dara laughs, "Oh my goodness, Bom," she snorts, shaking her head, "God. How are his parents unaware of what he's like?"

"I think they are, I just don't think they're aware of how bad he is because they work a lot."

"You know what I can't wait for?" She asks suddenly.

"What?"

"The day you stand up to him."

I groan, "I'm not that angry. I was the one who kept on trying to be friends with him when he made it clear that wasn't what he wanted. I don't intend on talking to him anytime soon, anyway. He doesn't like me, so I'll leave him be." I tell her.

Last night while I was in bed, I decided that my mission was impossible and I wasn't doing any help by trying to hang out with him. It pained me to make that decision and I feel a little guilty for giving up on him so easily, but I think it's the right thing to do for his sake and mine.

"He did make unnecessary comments, though," she tells me, "Just because you're abnormally friendly and talk to him more than he would like, doesn't mean he can dye your hair red, let you walk home in the rain, insult you, threaten you and treat you like crap."

I think over her words for a second, "