“Myungho, I like you.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot accept your confession.”

It was that conversation that started it all. I had been brave enough to go up to Seo Myungho, a typical popular boy at school, and confess. He, of course, rejected, like he did with many other girls. Add me to his ever growing list of heartbroken girls.

Myungho and I were classmates, often being seatmates due to my name being Son Jina and we sat in alphabetical order in each class. I was painfully awkward with him due to how popular he was and his looks but he was kind and handsome.

He hung out with a crowd of rowdy boys, who nicknamed themselves Seventeen. They were all popular in their own ways, the entire group being split into what they became popular by. Those who were known for their rapping were Choi Seungcheol, eldest, Jeon Wonwoo, Kim Mingyu, and Chwe Hansol, who was born in New York. The boys who always stole the show with their vocals were Yoon Jeonghan, Hong Jisoo, who was born in Los Angeles, Lee Jihoon, Lee Seokmin, and Boo Seungkwan. Myungho was grouped as a dancer, along with Moon Joonhwi, Kwon Soonyoung, and Lee Chan, their youngest. All of them were able to do what the others could but were best known for their own thing.

When Myungho rejected me, my first thought was to slap him. I had always given him my notes, made sure he understood everything, and even covered up for him whenever he slept in class or was caught with his phone. My second thought was at least he’s sorry. My third thought was I can’t even believe I even bothered with this guy.

“Sorry for taking up your time,” I said, backing away before he could see my tears that threatened to fall. I bumped into Jisoo, who was our class president and he steadied me by my shoulders.

“Jina, are you alright? What happened?” he asked gently. I didn’t want to say I had been rejected by one of his group members, knowing for sure he’d tell them all anyway.

“I’m fine,” I sniffed but Jisoo, being the concerned class president he was, refused to let me leave.

“You’re not. You’re crying. Tell me what happened. By the way, have you seen Myungho? I need to talk to him.”

Just hearing Myungho’s name set me off again and he figured it out. “Ah, I see.”

“I’m stupid aren’t I?” I choked out after he embraced me for another minute. He bit his lip, as if he was going to say something but stopped himself.

“You’re not. He’s the stupid one.”

“Just tell me I’m dumb Jisoo, we both know it.”

“You aren’t,” he said firmly. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh, please don’t,” I begged but he stood firm.

“Listen Jina,” he pulled me away from him gently, looking me directly in the eye as he wiped a tear from my face with his thumb. “I know stuff about Myungho that you don’t. There’s stuff about him that you wouldn’t even imagine. As part of Seventeen, we tell each other everything. You’d be surprised at what we know and how he is with everyone else compared to how he is with us. The way he acts around you isn’t much different as us. He just hides more secrets when he’s with outsiders.”

“So…”

“So, what I’m trying to get across is that you shouldn’t give up hope.”

“Give up?”

“Don’t give up.”

I look up at Jisoo, who was giving me one of his comforting smiles. I nodded and he breathed a sigh of relief, pulling me back into another hug before setting off.

I wondered about his words as I packed up my stuff and left for home. A car pulled up next to me on the sidewalk as I walked to the train station, the passenger’s window rolling down.

“Jina!”

I looked over, spotting Mingyu in the driver’s seat.

“Kim Mingyu?”

“No need to be so formal,” he winced. He patted the seat next to him. “Get in.”