I laugh. It’s my reflex – my fallback – the thing I do when I don’t know what to say. Chanyeol nods, but instead of laughing with me, he says, “No, but really though.”

His serious tone doesn’t match his daft smile. He’s always like this. Close and unreachable. He’s an enigma that both enthralls and perturbs me.

“…Okay,” I drawl. “You want to tell me why, or are you going to play sly?”

“The why doesn’t matter. Keep it in mind. So we’re cool?”

“We’re always cool.”

“Cool enough to be partners in crime?”

“But I thought you said it wasn’t partners in crime,” I object.

“You were right. Pairing people up is a crime. If the pair doesn’t turn out well, then we are liable and thus are to blame. But I have an escape,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “You’re the only failure I have, and now you’re my teammate. So we’re cool.”

“I’m not a failure,” I grumble.

“You’re right. You’re a success. We’ll be a successful couple.”

At the mention of couple, I start to complain at its suggestive connotation, but he starts the car and cuts me off. “Let’s go back home. Partner in crime?”

“Huh?” I say, the straw in my mouth.

“I’m going to need your services tomorrow. So stay available.” He presses his finger to my temple, and then he turns the steering wheel. I glare at him as I drink my smoothie, but he’s too busy humming a tune to notice.

We take the highway back to campus. It’s dark enough for me to see the stars. I roll down the window and stick my hand out to feel the wind pelt my fingers. I start to roll the window back up, but Chanyeol stops me.

“Keep it.”

“What?” I yell. On the highway, the sound of the wind is too loud. I try to close the window again.

“Keep it down,” he says, and then he rolls all the windows down. Something in the back of his car flies right out of a window.

“Uh … did you need that?”

“No,” he laughs. “Doesn’t this feel great?” He asks me. He looks like a mess. I can’t even see his eyes because of how his hair is spread low across his face. I try to tame my own hair by tying it with an elastic, but a few strands still escape. 

“Actually, it’s getting kind of cold.”

“You’re right,” he says and turns on the heater in the car, which doesn’t make any sense to me. “Hey Junah,” he yells.

“Huh?”

“You ever get those moments where you feel like you’ll live forever?”

I think about it. “Yeah. I do.”

“I feel like that right now. It’s like lucid dreaming. I know it’ll end, but I can control it while it’s here. Hey, Junah,” he repeats. “Tell me that a minute lasts an hour.”

“A minute lasts an hour,” I say, and then finish my smoothie. I stick it in the cup holder.

“A minute lasts an hour,” he repeats. “That smoothie lasts forever.” He taps his head. “And this ride won’t end.”

“I mean … I need to head back, so like, it had better end … “

“Yeah. I’m glad it’s you.”

I grip the strap of my purse. “Me?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

-----

Nam, Bora and I eat lunch together the next day, which is great since we haven’t all been together in a while. We choose to sit at a booth, which is as private as you can get in the cafeteria, and talk about things we’ve all wanted to talk about but haven’t gotten the chance.

“How are you and Seya?” Bora asks.

“Good,” Nam says.

“That’s it? Just good?”

“We’re working,” he says. “That’s all. We’re good. She’s going to Winter Ball with me.”

“I wish I had a date to Winter Ball,” I say as I pierce my salad with a fork.

“You did,” Nam says.

“Let’s not talk about that one.”

“I actually got invited,” Bora says. “By that guy.”

“That guy?” I ask.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Who’s that gu