Following Bogum and Seolhyun, we all head outside to a deck studded with tin lanterns. It's beautiful out here, actually. The sun still hasn't completely fallen, but it's getting close, and the mountains are limned in orange and pink behind darkening silhouettes of trees. Everything's in that middle stage between day and night, which somehow seems more exciting out here in the wilderness than it does in the city. As though something's on the verge of happening.

The deck quickly fills with people, some of them standing against the railing to watch the sunset, others saving seats on the patio furniture to listen to guitar music. Waiters begin circulating after-dinner coffee and tea. We walk past Candy, who is talking with some other guests, and when she spots us, she calls Seolhyun over to meet them. The rest of us jog down the wide deck steps to a clearing and head toward the compound's fire pit.

It's a beautiful bonfire, with rustic split-log benches circling it. A few guests are toasting marshmallows over the flames, and there's some sort of make-you-own-s'mores station on a table. Nearby, white lights are strung on a cedar pergola, underneath are three lanes of horseshoes set up.

"Want to play?" Minjun asks Jungkook. "I have to warn you, I'm pretty much a horseshoe genius, so I'll probably beat you."

"Is that so?"

"Legendary," Minjun confirms. "At least, I was when I was ten, which is the last - and, well, only time I've ever played."

Jungkook chuckles. "If it's like ring toss at the amusement park, I kill at that. Let's do this." He looks at me. "You in?"

"Hand-eye coordination is not a strong suit," I tell him. Every time I've ever played games where you have to get up in front of others and do something in a spotlight - like bowling or charades - I generally am too concerned about onlookers watching me and end up looking awkward. "Maybe I'll watch a game and see how it's played first."

"Throw a horseshoe, try to hit the stake," Jungkook says.

"You make it sound easy."

"No, I think you're making it harder than it really is," he says, smirking. "Sometimes you just have to say screw it and go for it."

Hyejeong chimes in that she wants to play, and it's only now I notice that Bogum is missing. Maybe he hung back with Seolhyun to talk to Candy. Or maybe he's staking out the bartender. Who knows. But I wish he were here so that we could revisit his earlier interest in taking photos of the moon - and maybe so that he could be a natural buffer between me and Jungkook.

When we've been talking, all the horseshoe lanes have filled with teams. So we stand at the edge of the pergola and wait for a free stake, watching the game in progress. That's when I feel and gentle tap on my shoulder.

I look up to see a woman about eomma's age, with pale skin and her hair pulled tightly back in a smooth ponytail. "Aren't you Daniel Bae's daughter?"

"Yes." My shoulders tighten. Then I recognize the woman. Lee Jieun. I've seen her in the clinic. She runs a vocal entertainment. She used to be one of my dad's patients.

"I thought I recognized you," she says with a smile. "Is your family here?"

"No, I'm just vacationing with some friends." I look toward Jungkook and Minjun. Jungkook nods in greeting.

"Ah," she says. "Beautiful place, isn't it? I've been here the last few days filming a audition video with a small crew."

"That's really cool."

She nods. "It's been a great shoot. We leave tomorrow morning. How's your dad doing? I haven't seen him since he worked on my back this spring."

"He's okay." I feel like I should say something more positive than that, but honestly, it's hard for me to muster the words.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She makes a face, gritting her teeth. "Is your mom still with your dad?"

I'm shook. "Of course. Why wouldn't she be?"

"I must be . . . confusing them with another couple." Quickly blinking her eyes as she seems to be thinking about something, hesitating. "You know how it is. I meet so many people for work . . . They all bur together sometimes."

"Right," I say. But now a strange, quiet panic is rising inside me. Did she really confuse my dad with someone else, or has she heard a rumor? Please, please, please don't let her be someone my dad's had an affair with. I think she's married, but I'm not sure.

Before I can press for more information, her phone lights up and she excuse herself.

I watch her walk away, head muddled, and realize that is she's getting phone service, we should be in Wifi range. I checked my phone and sure enough, I've got a signal. I also have several texts. Two are from eomma, and as I meander away to answer them, I can't help but think about Jieun's question. It doesn't take long for thinking to become obsessing, and now I'm picturing my parents splitting up.

But not for long. Pulling me out of my thoughts, Bogum jogs toward me, Seolhyun in tow. "It's happening," he says excitedly, urging me to follow them when Seolhyun gets the rest of the group's attention. "We have to go - now."

"I don't understand," I say.

Jungkook dusts his hands off. "What's happening?"

"The bar," Bogum says. "I convinced one of the guests to order three mixed drinks."

"Okay . . ?"

"Which means," he says, "the bartender will had back to the kitchen to fetch them. The bar will be unguarded. Now is our chance. Are you going to sit around throwing scraps of iron with old people, or do you want to have fun?"

"Fun!" Hyejeong says.

"Come on, then," Bogum says, smiling wildly. He winks at me. "Let's go, Bae."

He takes off, and I follow, slipping around the backside of the pavilion. Hyejeong and Seolhyun are racing ahead across the darkening lawn, and when they make it to a short set of stairs that lead up to the smaller side of the deck, they pause for several seconds until Hyejeong flashes us a thumbs-up.

We all climb three steps carefully onto the narrow strip of deck circling the pavilion, staying hidden. The bar is only a few yards away, bathed in a strong cone of light. Like Bogum predicted, the bartender seems to be headed toward the kitchen, and stops to talk to a pair of the serving crew, who are sweeping the floor and turning chairs upside down on top of tables.

"That guest you convinced to order the drinks went to the Sunset Deck with her friends," Hyejeong reports in a loud whisper. "I think she was telling the bartender to bring the drinks out there.

"Excellent," Bogum says with a smile, waving Seolhyun and Hyejeong behind him. "Where's my wingman?"

I realize he was talking about Jungkook, and look around. He's nowhere to be found.

"No time to wait," Bogum says. "Suzy, you're taking his place. Stay here at the steps and keep a lookout in the shadows. Everyone else, follow me when Suzy gives the word."

Keep a lookout? Why me? I panically look around while the others clamor onto the side deck. What am I supposed to be looking for? I check the lawn. I don't have a decent view of the bonfire from here. And the people mingling on the Sunset Deck don't seem to be paying attention to us. The only person who has a sightline on the bar is the guitar player. Can he see us? I can't tell.

"Is it clear?" Bogum whispers.

This is too much pressure. I do one last survey of the inner pavilion and wait until a server turns his back. "Okay, now!"

Bogum crests over the top step and takes three steps toward the bar, slipping behind it. He punches the air with a victory fist and then ducks out of view. When he pops back up, he has two wine bottles. He hands them to Hyejeong. She tries to pass them to Minjun, and he waves them away - at least, at first. She says something to him that I can't hear and shoves one of the bottles against his stomach. He caves and accepts it.

More bottles emerge. The clink of heavy glass echoes across the bar. It's taking them forever. Why are they giggling? Someone's going to hear. And just how many bottles of wine do they need? Hyejeong's already holding three.

I suddenly smell roasted marshmallow.

"Stuck on lookout duty?" a deep voice rumbles at my ear.

A small yelp escapes my mouth. I punch Jungkook in the arm.

"Ow," he complains, rubbing his sleeve.

"Stop creeping up on me like that," I whisper. "You'll give me a heart attack."

His white teeth flash in the dusk. "Sounds like a challenge."

"Glad you're happy for my early demise." 

"You used to like when I sneaked up in the dark."

Memories from last fall sprinkle through my head. Tiptoeing out of the house to find him waiting behind the palm tree at the bottom of the steps. His hand over my mouth to stop me from laughing. Feeling like my heart would burst out my chest with wanting his arms around me.

Don't think about it. Don't answer him. Just pretend he didn't say anything. Act casual.

"Where were you just now?" I manage.

"Not doing this stupid . And I also" - he holds up a flattened s'more - "found this. Never turn down toasted marshmallow. That's a sin."

"Oh, is that so?" I whisper, irritated that my heart is still racing. Because he startled me. Not because of what he said. Or that he's standing so close that I can smell wood smoke on his shirt. But why is he standing so close?

"Pretty sure that's what the preacher said last Sunday at church."

"You still go to church with Namjoon?" The Chapel. They have service outside in a small amphitheater, and people from different faiths go there. I think they mainly exist to feed the homeless and do other charity-work-type things around Daegu; Namjoon used to be homeless when he was our age, and he often got his meals from their soup kitchen. My dad says it's not a real church, but what would he know about divinity?

"I don't have a choice. He claims that I wear too much black."

I laugh. "Okay, so let me get this straight. Namjoon believes that God forgives him for selling things like . . ."

" rings?" he provides.

That wasn't my first choice. His nonchalance messes me up, and I get a little defensive. "Yet God doesn't forgive you reading all that gruesome horror manga? All those zombies movies?"

"Personally, I'd like to think so. being prepared for the zombie apocalypse is just common sense."

"Yeah, pretty sure I remember that being mentioned in the Bible," I say sarcastically.

"It's an amendment to the commandments," he says. "Amendment number 13. Thou shall arm yourself with machete and shotgun, and remember to aim for the head."

I turn away to keep my eye on Bogum.

Jungkook reaches around my shoulder, holding up half of a marshmallow. "Want some?"

His voice dark and velvety, so close to my ear that a thousand goosebumps race down my neck. An unwanted shiver chases them, and I pray he doesn't see it. "No."

"Are you sure?" he asks, voice even lower. Deeper. Seductive.

No. Not seductive. What I'm hearing is the equivalent of a mirage. See, this is where I went wrong before. Just because one person's feeling something doesn't mean the other person intended it. Just because my body wants to slowly turn around, to find him looking down at me, and our eyes would lock, and -

What's wrong with me? I have to stop. For real, have some pride, Bae.

"No, thank you," I say more resolutely.

"Your loss," he says, sounding bored. His arm disappears.

And now I do turn to look at him. Slowly. But not because I expect anything. I just wanted to see is he really is bored, or if . . .

His eyes aren't on mine. Of course not. He's looking off int eh distance.

"Oh, look," he says casually. "KIA is about to get busted."

What?

I turn around and spot the bartender in the pavilion, headed straight toward them. Crap, crap, crap.

"Bogum!" I whisper loudly.

He doesn't hear me.

"Guys!" I say louder, panicked.

Hyejeong looks around as if she possibly heard me, but isn't quite sure. What do I do? If I take a step into the light, the bartender will see me. But if I can't get Bogum's attention -

Jungkook whistles.

Bogum looks up.

I wave panically and point toward the pavilion.

He understands now. There's a short scuffle with the wine bottles, and then they're racing toward us. Problem is, when they get to the steps, the bartender can -

Aiiissshhh!

They've been spotted.

"Run!" Bogum tells us.

He tears across the lawn, juggling four bottles of wine. Instinct for self-preservation has me running after him. The scent of damp grass and trees rise from my feet as my shoes slap the ground. We're all running as if our lives depend upon it, a panic-fueled herd of cows driven into shadow. I'm completely turned around. Where are the campgrounds? I don't remember all these trees and bushes.

Bogum veers left just as I spot the main walkway. It's lit up by tiny gold path lights. Bogum and Seolhyun leap over some flowering shrubs to get to the path. Something crashes.

"Omo!" Hyejeong yells.

Glass crushes under my shoes. The scent of wine floods my nose.

"Keep going," Bogum says, chest heaving. "Don't stop."

I look back at the pavilion. It doesn't look like anyone's running after us. We leave the broken bottle behind and continue along the main path until we crest the top of a steep hill. The first camp of tents comes into view. Bogum slows to a stop, and we all catch our breath and look down into the valley.

This camp is nothing but yurts, all of them the shape of circus tents. They're eerily lovely, glowing with warm, marigold light - one that parts to reveal a black sky. And everywhere - everywhere - in that sky, there are stars.

My stars.

It's as if they appeared from nowhere. As if this this a completely different night sky than the one back home. We have pretty clear view at the Daegu observatory, but the cities clustered in Daegu collectively produce a lot of light pollution.

No cities out here.

Oh, the photos I could take with my telescope!

"Suzy!" Jungkook calls.

Crap. The group is on the move again, and everyone but the two of us has already made it halfway down the hill.

"Sorry," I say. I started to walk and explain, "I spaced out." I chuckle and catch my breath. "Literally."

What a dorky joke. All this physical activity is rotting my brain.

"The stars, you mean?" he says, looking up briefly. "It's amazing, right? I knew you would love them out here."

He jogs faster to catch up with the group, and I run to follow, his surprising confession tumbling around inside my head. but not for long, because we're a few yards from the camp, Seolhyun comes to a stop.

"What's going on?" MInjun asks.

"On the path, near the third yurt," she says.

I look ahead and spot the problem. A large man in a dark jacket with his back to us, chatting with a couple of campers. On the back, the word MUIR is printed in yellow.

"Mr. Ran," Seolhyun says. "The compound's security ranger. If you think the bartender was a jerk, he's Santa Claus compared to Mr. Ran. We can't be seen with all this wine. He'll probably have us arrested."

Hyejeong looks around. "What do we do? Should we go back?"

"To the place that's filled with people who saw us run?" Jungkook says. "Yes, let's return to the scene of the crime."

"I don't know!" Hyejeong says, eyes bright with panic "Maybe we can hide until Mr. Ran passes us?"

I gesture toward the yurts. "He's not the only roadblock. Look at all the tents. People are walking around."

"Guests are returning from the bonfire too," Jungkook says, looking behind us, where laughter and chatter carry from a short distance.

"We're trapped," Hyejeong groans. "This so bad. My legs are covered in wine, and now we're going to jail."

"Or we could stash the bottles somewhere," Jungkook says calmly. "And, you know, maybe not go to jail. But your plan works too." 

Minjun points to a waste disposal box. It's a metal bear resistant one, cemented to the ground, with a latch. "I doubt they'd clean these out tonight. We can stash the wine inside now and come back later, when people are sleeping."

"My boys!" Bogum praises, helping Minjun unlatch the garbage bin. "Pure genius. Jungkook, I was thinking you failed me back at the bar when you weren't there to watch my back, but now you're position as wingman is now restored."

"All my dreams are realized," Jungkook says, voice thick with sarcasm.

While Seolhyun fusses about stashing the bottles near food scraps, they manage to clear out a space inside the bin for a dozen bottles. The last one didn't fit, so Bogum sticks it inside his pants. Crude jokes are made. I ignore them, mainly because I'm watching the ranger.

"Guys," I say. "Shut the bin. He's coming this way."

I don't think he can see us all that well, but then again, I can see him. And when Jungkook points out that we look obvious, hanging out by the garbage bin, we leave it and begin walking down the path. Calmly. Slowly. No getting around the ranger. I steel myself as we approach him.

"Evening," Mr. Ran says, giving us all a once-over. "You kids lost?"

"No, sir," Bogum assures him. "Just heading back to our camp."

"Which is . . ?"

"Camp Owl," Seolhyun says.

He squints at her. "You look familiar."

"My parents stay here a lot," she says.

"Is that's true, then I don't need to remind you that quiet hours will be starting soon. Plan accordingly."

"Thank you," Seolhyun says.

Mr. Ran nods, stepping aside to let us pass. I'm not sure if it's my imagination, but he seems to sniff the air. So now I'm paranoid that he smells wine on us. I mean, we did trample a broken bottle into the ground.

But if he suspects anything, he doesn't stop us. And after I sneak a look back at him, I breathe out a sigh of relief when he passes the garbage bin and continues uphill toward the lodge.

"I think we're in the clear," I tell the group as we make our way down the dark path through the yurt camp.

"Lucky us," Jungkook says without conviction.

For once, I don't disagree with him.

Thank you for reading!