"I still don't think I can do this."
You roll your eyes at your best friend's words, gripping her arm tighter.
-"You won't know unless you try, will you?" You ask, feeling overwhelmed by her shyness. "Besides, you said he talked to you in class. That's a good sign," you attempt to reassure your friend, trying to convince her to go and ask the new student out. You have not actually seen his face yet, partially owing to the fact that you have no common classes with him and mostly because he always seems to be wearing a hoodie. Judging from the excited whispers from the other girls though, you do know he likes to be called Kai and seems to be, simply put, the impersonation of "tall, dark and handsome".
Truthfully, you hope the boy's personality is as good as his fabled looks because you don't want your best friend to get hurt, especially since it is the first time that she has shown such an interest in a boy.
As you get nearer to the boy currently having lunch in the cafeteria with his back facing you, the girl whose arm you are currently tugging on starts fidgeting more and more until, instead of the soft tone you have been adopting with her, you use a harsh tone and say:
"Would you prefer to see him with one of the diva wannabes in class? Or with the Barbie dolls who will only use him as a fashion accessory? Because, girl, that's what's going to happen if you can't explain to him how you feel. If you can't confess, I will personally go and tell him you like him!"
Instead of feeling comforted by your words, your friend looks panic-stricken and with a strength you did not know she had, she frees herself from your grip and runs away, mumbling something about not being good enough.
You feel incredibly frustrated with her cowardice and finally decide to take matters in your own hands by going through with your threat.
Taking long confident strides, you walk up to Kai in a determined way and lightly tap his shoulder to have his attention, already rehearsing what you want to say.
However, your carefully planned monologue dies on your lips as he turns to look at you and you take in the plump lips, the defined jawline and the twinkling eyes of the boy you used to call your "summer camp boyfriend" since you only met him once a year at summer camp till your fourteenth birthday, when your parents deemed you too old to go.
You can only manage to choke out incredulously while struggling to control your emotions:
"Jongin? Kim Jongin?"