Since it's already late in the afternoon, there's no time to do anything before dinner. So the boys retreat to their tent, and we all unpack. I stash all of my food and toiletries in the food locker outside and check my telescope for visual damage; it seems to have survived the bumpy trip on top of the SUV and arrived intact. Then I try to call Eomma to let her know I arrived intact. But there's no service in the cabin. There's wifi at the lodge, so I go ahead and text - both to her and to Solbin - and trust that my messages will go through when I get a signal. 

Seolhyun disappears, so Hyejeong and I set out to explore the Camp Owl section of the compound on our own. There's a picnic table between our tent and the boys', and a small trailhead behind us, with a sign warning that the trail feeds into the national forest; Just Right Camping Compound absolves itself of responsibility should hikers choose to leave their property. A group of wild, unsupervised kids is running into the woods here, so it can't be all that scary.

We avoid the screaming kids and follow a trail: cream-colored rocks banded by the occasional flowering scrub and a steady line of path lights. The trail leads to a cedar-shingled bathhouse.

"Whoa," Hyejeong whispers when we peeked inside, and I'm feeling the same way. It's practically a spa, one that's themed to match our beautiful surroundings, and even nicer in person than it was in the online photos: stained wood countertops, stone benches, pretty lanterns hanging from hooks near the mirrors. Unlike our tents, there's electricity here and a woman is charging her cell phone while she blow-dries her hair. There's even a small sauna in the back.

"I'm getting with Minjun in that sauna later," Hyejeong tells me as we step back outside.

"Too much information," I say.

She laughs. "If you want to get with someone, I wouldn't care. Are you still hung up on Bogum?"

"Um . . ."

"He told me you guys hooked up."

What? "We didn't - not like that." It was just a kiss, forsake.

"You're so easy to embarrass," she says, smiling. "Did you know you ears turn red? That's so cute."

Aish.

"Hey, I was just teasing," she says, slapping my arm playfully. "Bogum's sweet. And I like how he's so cool with everyone. Like, I would never have hung out with Jungkook in a million years because I didn't know how cool he was."

I'm not sure how to take this. I think I understand what she's trying to say, and maybe there's a core of earnestness in there somewhere. But I still think she's also implying that Jungkook wasn't okay until Bogum decided he was.

"You and Jungkook used to be a thing, huh?"

My body stills. "Who told you that?"

"I just remember seeing you together at school all the time."

"We were just friends," I insist. "Nothing else."

Lie.

One that Hyejeong seems to buy. With a shrug, she says, "I think you guys would make a good couple."

"No," I say, and it sounds like a dog barking. "Absolutely not. We aren't even friends anymore."

She holds up both hands in surrender. "Hey, I only call 'em like I see 'em. Think about it, Miss Astrology."

I won't. And I don't bother to correct her again - not about her word mix-up or Jungkook. It's true that people at school used to tease us about being best friends - which was often said with a wink and air quotations - and rumors were spread that we were more. That's precisely one of the reasons we decided to conduct the Great Experiment privately. To avoid gossip at school. Mainly, though, to avoid my dad finding out. Because no way would Diamond Daniel allow his daughter to date the son of two males.

Anyway, I don't know why I care that Hyejeong assumed something was going on between Jungkook and me. I think I should be more concerned that Bogum told Hyejeong we hooked up. Maybe Hyejeong heard it wrong or made assumptions. She's making it sound like he was bragging, but I shouldn't assume the worst. He could have been telling her that he liked me, for all I know.

Anything's possible. But now I'm self-conscious about my ears flaming up, which makes me want to avoid the entire topic. I discreetly make sure my hair covers the telltale redness and don't say anything further.

By the time we've finished walking the path around our area of the camp, we spot Seolhyun and the boys lounging at the picnic table between our tents. I'm a little worried Hyejeong might try to tease me about Bogum in front of the group, but she just turns to Minjun, throwing her arms around him and begging for a piggy-back ride. As though the whole conversation about Bogum and Jungkook is forgotten.

Good.

It's nearly time for diner service, so we all decide to walk back up to the lodge. We aren't the only ones. Small groups of campers are headed in the same direction, and once the pavilion is in sight, we join dozens of other guests. Wineglasses in hand, they mingle on rattan-and-craved wood outdoor furniture overflowing with plush pillows on a massive wraparound deck with golden light from the setting sun. It's photographic. Literally. Bogum is breaking out his phone to take pictures as a waiter circulates with a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

Bogum whistles. "They must make a killing here."

"Maybe not," Minjun says, eyeing a bar that's been set up outside the dining area on a side deck, away from the stunning views. "The wine they're serving isn't cheap."

"Think they'll serve us?" Bogum asks with a devious smile.

"That's the same bartender from last year," Seolhyun says, shaking her head. "He's a jerk. I think he's Candy's cousin, or something. He'll probably remember me."

"I'll try," Hyejeong says. "He won't know me, and I look legal."

She casually walks to the bar and flashes the bartender a smile. After several seconds of small talk, she turns around and returns empty-handed.

"No way," Bogum says, disappointed. "He wouldn't do it?"

"You were right, Seolhyun. He's a jerk," Hyejeong reports. "Says he was warned by Candy that a group of underage teens had just checked in, and we're not to be served alcohol."

"We'll see about that," Bogum says, and turns to Jungkook. "We need a plan to get that wine."

"I'll get right on that," Jungkook deadpans.

Bogum laughs, either unbothered by Jungkook's sarcasm or not noticing it. Nothing ever seems to bother Bogum. He's always so happy and at ease with his life. I wish I could be more like that.

We trail a group of retirees and investment bankers in  catalog-perfect outdoors. Seolhyun spots a place for us to sit inside the pavilion, and we follow her lead to a large, round table. It's set with modern china, and the confusing number of glasses and utensils intimidates me. I'm also sitting between Bogum and Jungkook, which makes me nervous. It's exciting to have Bogum so close, and he's pretending to stab my hand with a fork, his mood fun and playful. But I'm self-conscious and trying to play it cool.

And then there's Jungkook. I wish I could block him out. While Bogum's presence feels light and unpredictable - he's moved on to fake-stabbing Seolhyun, and she's laughing - Jungkook's feels . . . solid. Weighty. Like I can't forget that his leg is a few inches from mine. If Bogum is the sun, brighter than anything else in the sky, Jungkook is the moon: often dark and hidden, but closer than any star. Always there.

One after the other, each table is served the first of four courses, which is some sort soup. Once it's gifted fudge to eat today, and forget all about the silly tableware and practically inhaling the soup. I don't even care if I'm using the correct spoon. The second course is grilled scallops with some sort of fancy sauce and a tiny salad. The scallops smells amazing. I'm all in.

"Someone's feeling plucky," Jungkook notes, gesturing toward my plate with his knife. "Hive-wise."

"Scallops are a shellfish with which I'm compatible," I tell him stoically. Shrimp and crab are iffy, but anything in the mollusk family is low-risk.

"Oh yeah, that's right," he says, nodding slowly.

We both eat in silence for several seconds.

Then he asks, "Remember when we had that shrimp scampi?"

"You never forget a trip to the ER."

I was 15, and at the time, Sunday dinner with the Jeons was a regular event. It was just takeout, typically, and a movie in the living room. Jin is the chef of the Jeon family; Namjoon, not so much. So it was a big deal when Namjoon decided he'd make something from scratch. It turned out pretty good, but for some reason, I had a major allergic reaction. Face swelling up, throat closing, trouble breathing  - the works. Namjoon freaked out and took all the blame. My parents were out to dinner, so Jin rushed me to the hospital emergency room in his car.

"Bad shrimp! Bad shrimp!"Jungkook says, mocking Jin in a hitch-pitched voice.

Jin had yelled that at the nurse in front of the entire ER waiting room. Loudly. We repeated it for months out of context. It was our inside joke. Anything that went wrong, we balmed it on "bad shrimp." It never got old.

It's still funny. I chuckle softly with a mouthful of scallop and nearly choke.

Jungkook's eyes slide toward mine. The corners of his mouth turn up as he struggles with a smile.

Okay, hell has officially frozen over. Pigs flying. Lightning strikes. It's all happening. Because we are both smiling at each other. Actual smiles!

What's going on here? First peanut butter fudge, now this?

Just stay calm, I tell myself. It doesn't mean anything. Enemies share a laugh now and then. I keep my eyes on my plate and try to act normal. But then the third course comes, some kind of braised meat and Bogum has the rest of the group focused on tracking the location of the bartender, I pick up the next fork in my place setting and accidentally bump his hand. Jungkook's left-handed, so his right hand is propped on the edge of the table. And it stays there, even when I snatch my own hand back.

"Sorry," I mumble.

He shakes his head dismissively. "So many forks. Any why do we need two spoons? I already used one for the soup. Are they backup spoons?"

"One pair of fancy chopsticks would have saved them some major dishwashing," I say.

"Amen to that."

"What's that quote from that martial arts movie Once Upon a Time in China?" I ask. "Jet Li says it when he sees the Western place setting."

"Why so many swords and daggers on the table?" Jungkook quotes.

"That's it. Man, you were obsessed with martial arts movies."

"Jet Li is the king," he says before taking a sip of water from his glass.

"I thought it was Jackie Chan."

"Jackie Chan was a god."

"Oh, that's right," I say. "You made me watch so many of those movies."

"And you liked most of them."

I did.

Jungkook picks at his braised meat. "I also seem to remember watching an awful lot of  The Vampire Dairies episodes. All because someone had a crush on a certain Salvatore."

It's true. Damon was my everything. I still follow the actor who played him, Ian Somerhalder, and named my dog after him. And I've probably seen every Damon meme on the internet. "I'm not ashamed."

Before I can say anything else, Bogum's arm shoots out in front of me. I'm forced to lean back while he taps Jungkook's shoulder.

"Dude, are you seeing this?" Bogum says.

"You know she's sitting here, right?" Jungkook says, slipping back into glum-and-dour mode.

Bogum looks at me. "Oh sorry, Suzy." He chuckles and flashes me a sheepish smile before focusing on Jungkook again. "But check it out. The bartender leaves the bar unattended. All of those bottles are just sitting there."

Jungkook's disinterested stare doesn't seem to have any effect on Bogum.

"For the taking," Bogum elaborates.

"There are hundred people sitting here," Jungkook says.

Bogum groans and lets his head loll backward for a moment. "Not now. Later. After dinner. People can't sit here forever."

"Everyone heads to the bonfire below the Sunset Deck," Seolhyun confirms.

"The bartender's walking back to the bar," Jungkook points out.

"So we find a way to divert him," Bogum says. "We just need people's attention on the bonfire while we figure out a way to get him to leave the bar. Then, boom! We plunder his stash."

I don't like this plan. We're surrounded by people. This isn't like playing pranks on teachers, like that time Mr. Song exited class to go to the restroom and left his phone unlocked on his desk, and Bogum jumped out of his chair and used it to take photos of his before Mr. Song returned . . . which Bogum later claimed was worth the detention he got.

Minjun gives Bogum a distrustful look. "Call me crazy, but isn't that stealing?"

"It's the very definition," Jungkook mumbles.

"You would know," Bogum says, waggling his brows.

I look at Jungkook, and he looks . . . embarrassed. I wonder what that's all about.

"Look, people. They aren't stealing the wine," Bogum argues. It's free to all the guests. If I asked for a second helping of this braised sheep -"

"Lamb," Jungkook corrects in a weary voice.

"- they would bring it to me. It's all built into the cost. We're just getting our money's worth."

"My mom's money, you mean," Seolhyun says.

Bogum smiles. "Your mom is hot."

"Gross," Seolhyun says, smacking his shoulder with her hand. And it is gross, but she doesn't seem all that upset about it. Not about that, and not about Seolhyun's dicey proposal. Even Minjun, who I would consider sensible, is convinced by Bogum's arguments. So maybe my bad feelings about it are unwarranted.

After Seolhyun informs us that we're all going horseback riding tomorrow, Bogum continues to hatch a wine-thieving plan throughout the rest of dinner. Dessert is served - some sort of weird strawberry sorbet with balsamic vinegar that I skip, because strawberries are on the "no" list when I'm having hives issues. And when guests begin filing outside to the Sunset Deck, lured by the scent of wood smoke and the sounds of acoustic guitar, opportunities to divert the bartender to dwindle.

"I'll figure something out," Bogum assures us. "The night is young."

Seolhyun tugs him by the arm. "Come on. Let's walk around."

He flashes his dazzling smile at her and allows himself to be dragged from table, briefly linking elbows with her as he makes some joke that I can't hear. They're so easy together, so touchy and lighthearted. I wish I could be as bold as Seolhyun. I wish he were linking arms with me.

But more than anything, I wish I didn't feel Jungkook's gaze on my face. All that memory dredging we did over dinner is overlapping in my brain with Hyejeong's earlier assumptions about my relationship with Jungkook. And a troublesome thought suddenly balloons.

Bogus gossip about my so-called hookup with Bogum reached  Hyejeong's ears.

Did it reach Jungkook's, too?

It bothers me that it might have, and it bothers me that I care. Then again, my caring about Jungkook was never the problem. It was his caring about me. And a little peanut butter fudge and fond memories of bad shrimp aren't enough to convince me that anything has changed.

Thank you guys for reading! It really means a lot to me!