She’s crying even before Sungjin can shut the passenger side door of his car. It’s pathetic, really. More so when he reaches from across the driver’s seat and buckles her in. Some part of Haru’s brain is logging in all the information her senses are unconsciously collecting and filing into permanent storage. Later on, she’ll remember the heat of his arms, the soft puffs of his breath, his long dark lashes, and the faint scent of summer on his skin. Even later still, she just might replay the moment in striking clarity and wonder if, given they’d only been a moment away, either of them were willing to acknowledge the zing of electricity at every accidental brush of fabric on fabric. For now, in the numbness of heartbreak revisited, she finds comfort in Sungjin’s solid presence—regardless if he’s an unwilling passenger in her pity train. To be fair, they are heading toward the same destination. Avoiding Jaebeom and Nayeon wasn’t originally in the itinerary, but such is life.

Sungjin pulls out a box of tissues from the glove compartment and hands it to her. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Haru decides to be embarrassed about this later on and dabs the corners of her eyes and wipes her nose. At the back of her mind, she hopes her mascara is as waterproof as the label promises. “Is it okay if we drive around for a while?”

The engine whirs into a steady hum and they pull out of the driveway. “Are you sure there isn’t anywhere I can take you?”

“Somewhere I feel safe?” Her first instinct should be of home, in her bed, under the safety of her blanket and surrounded by her too many pillows. Her second thought should be of the shop kitchen, except she’s still a confirmation email away from being an official hire and thus has no access after hours. Instead, she’s wracked with this feeling of restlessness. Like she’s a nocked arrow, pulled so far back waiting to be released. “You’re just trying to get rid of me, aren’t you? Now that I’ve performed my duties as your convenient scapegoat.”

Sungjin pushes his hair back with his fingers; an absent-minded gesture far more potent than Haru will ever let on. “If you don’t want me to leave, just say so. We can hang out somewhere.”

“I don’t—that’s not—how dare you!” Haru draws in a breath and all but snarls at Sungjin. “I’m having an ugly-cry moment here, if you haven’t noticed. The least you could be is be sympathetic.”

He has the audacity to chuckle under his breath. “I respect, and am sympathetic to, your ugly-crying. Carry on.”

“I think I will.” Though she’s hardly in the mood to cry now. The situation is funny now that she’s viewing it from outside the scene of the crime. Distance does that, and with the roof deck reduced to blurry lights outside the window Haru feels even more disconnected. “And don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, glancing at her with contrite eyes. “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

Now she feels guilty for making him feel bad. “I’m not actually upset,” she admits. “Just embarrassed, I guess. Believe me, I don’t make a habit of freaking out and crying in front of people I’ve just met.”

Neither does she make a habit of kissing perfect strangers just to spite the person who hurt her feelings, but she isn’t quite ready to have that conversation yet. Frankly, it has more to do with the kiss than the pettiness that motivated it. It’s hardly her first, but it may as well have been. Mentally, she groans. How long has she been unkissed that this one won’t leave her thoughts? The math comes up depressing—not in the past six months. Despite having been in love with Jaebeom for just about the entirety of their friendship, she’s dated other guys. Though they never progressed to anything more than just that: dates. Had she any less self-respect, she would have forgiven Jaebeom for his earlier quip at her relationship status, but she promised herself she’d stop being such a doormat.

(Besides, Jaebeom had every right to be upset at her, that much she admitted. It was rather inconsiderate of her to not have called, but, all the same, it’s not like he apologized to her yet. For, you know, breaking her heart. So no, she’s not about to defend him. Especially not in her mental conversations with herself.)

“I feel special.”

“Don’t push it,” she counters, barely holding back a smile. “You’re not special. Just convenient.”

“See, some people would be offended by that.”

“But not you.”

Not Sungjin whose hands have not left the ten and two o’clock position on the steering wheel. Sungjin, whose easy, contagious smile has not left his lips. “Nope. Not me.”

“Well, don’t take it as a compliment either.”

His brows turn into slants meeting between his eyes. “You realize we’re on the same boat here, right? Whatever insult you fire at me will only reflect back at you.”

“Now why’d you have to go ruin my fun?” That came out flirtier than she intended, which was not at all. If she doesn’t pull herself back now she’ll end up neck-deep in regret by sunrise.

“Don’t be selfish. You’re not the only one on this boat.”

Handsome, and kind, and with a sense of humor. The tug of her imagination is a visceral thing leading her to secret places at the back of her mind. Places she dare not allow herself to visit anymore. For as long as she can remember, it’s always been Jaebeom who occupied those spaces in her mind. Thinking of what could have been hurt. Fantasies are dangerous things, indeed.

They slow down to pause at a red light. So what do we do now? his gaze seems to ask. A spark of familiarity travels through her, a sense of affinity that runs deeper than a shared need to escape their respective problems. She blinks, as if she’s not sure what she’s looking at. Or for. It occurs to her just then that they left Sunye’s rehearsal dinner abruptly. Anyone who leaves in the middle of a party almost always has a good reason to do so. An emergency, perhaps to seek a moment of privacy. No doubt after the stunt they pulled earlier that evening, the general consensus will be along the lines of a romantic tryst. Or something.

No. No, don’t even go there.

“Feeling better?” His voice is low, warm, and deeply intimate.

Suddenly, Haru is aware of how alone they are in such a small space. Of how the city lights slip through the tinted windows and bounce off his dark hair that’s probably too long for the style it should be but still somehow just the right length. Now that she’s looking at him properly, it’s almost unfair how handsome Sungjin is. There’s a boyishness to his looks yet there’s a virility to his lean frame. He comes off unassuming, but she won’t put it past him to leave his better qualities unacknowledged. But it’s the subtle change in his eyes that shifts the softness his demeanor imparts to his appearance. Those eyes, darker like the night sky miles away from the city, land on her and rest for a few seconds.

Where do you feel safest?

Such an odd question from such an odd man.

It takes her a moment—and the sounds of someone honking behind them—to realize she didn’t answer immediately. “Not freaking out anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

Sungjin averts his gaze as if he just realized he’s staring at her instead of keeping his eyes on the traffic light. Or maybe he too has come to the same conclusions she has. He clears his throat. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, let’s get something to eat.”

“Anywhere you want to go?” he asks. “An