14

But then,

Little did I know the other members were giving me a stare through the mirror, obviously showing me their annoyance.

“There’s someone who just sits around since then,”

I saw the tallest girl complained, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

I knew Junhong was looking at me.

But I chose to look somewhere else.

“She’s injured,” Hana defended me.

“Really?” the tall girl scoffed. “I would like to get sores on my knees and being injured too.”

Everyone began to wonder as she mentioned that thing.

And although they kept on silence, I felt heavily pressured by the moment.

I needed to explain it.

Perhaps, it would be better if I just quit this club as well.

But then—could I do even better in other club?

“She’s very shy,”

I looked at Junhong, that was staring at me from the front.

“That’s why I always teach her after practice,” he explained.

What was he talking about?


“Jieun, you have to show me what I taught you later.”





He never taught me any dance.

And so we just remained silence together after the dance practice inside of the classroom.

I watched him writing a copy of members attendance on the floor, wondering why did he ask me to stay there if he didn’t want to teach me a thing.

“If you want to go home now, it’s fine,” he suddenly remarked, without looking at me.

I didn’t understand it.

He took me as a member yet refused to train me.

What was that?

“Aren’t we going to practice?” I asked.

I saw his hand stopped from writing.

And slowly, he tilted his head to look at me.

“We are?” he asked.

“Then—” I pursed my lips, didn’t know how to ask it.

Then why did you accept me to be a member?


“Now tell me,” he closed his book, “what makes you want to practice?”

What made me want to practice?

What?


“Choose one,” he cleared his throat, “first, you feel bad for the other members.”

Yes. Definitely.

“Second, you want to thank me.”

I could also say—yes.

“Third, you like dancing.”

Ah—I understood.

“If you choose the first two, then don’t ever ask me to train you,” he said.

As expected, dancing was his pride.

Something that he wouldn’t easily share.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

He stared at me for a moment, before a smile appeared from his lips.

“It’s not like that,” he got up and walked to the window. “Come here.”

I followed him, standing behind the window while wondering what was he going to do.

Until I realized something.

“I watched your playing from here before,” he explained, looking at the tennis field placed in front of the building.

How did he know that I was on the tennis club?


“I know you did it without the passion for tennis. That’s why—I don’t want you to do the same for dancing,” he smirked. “I can’t see something works by force.”

He knew it thoroughly.


Literally.


“Is there someone in the soccer club that attracts your attention?”

I turned and met with a pair of his dark gray eyes.

And watched how the orange glimpse from the sun diffused on his face.

“Yes,” I replied.

He smirked. “I see.”

I looked at the empty soccer field, creating my own illusion of Yongguk’s presence there.

How he smiled so wide whenever he made a goal, furiously running across the field to chase after the ball,

Or when his face got stiff when he looked at me from afar.

“So, it didn’t go well?”

My eyes ran back into Junhong whose standing beside me, leaning towards the window’s frame by his palms.

While my mind kept wondering how did he manage to know everything.

“Yes,” I muttered.

Then I heard his chuckle.

“Poor ’rose’,” he scoffed. “So you gave up to those ’sunflower’? I think that’s what you mean that day.”

“Not gave up,” I denied, “I lost.”

He looked at me, and his smirk had already gone away.

“You have to know that—before using the word ’lost’, you must went through a fight first,” he said.

Fight?

“Did you ever try to fight over him?” he tilted his head to the side, looking at me from the edge of his eyes.

No, I didn’t—never.

“I know the answer,” he laughed. “That’s why you better not to call it a lost.”

Then—it wasn’t a lose?

“You chose to give up. It doesn’t mean you’re losing the game.”





He rode his bike out of the park, and smoothly stopped right in front of me.

“Come on,” he said.

I carefully sat behind him—and that was the first time for me to smell his scent.

Sweet.

He smelled really sweet.

I gripped into the back handle, didn’t want to touch any of his figure.

But I found myself kept staring at his blonde hair instead.

Strange.

“You don’t have to worry about the club,” he said in a sudden. “If you begin to realize this isn’t what you aim to do, I’ll talk to Mr. Kim.”

Strange.

That was strange.

“Well, you must start learning how to talk first,” he chuckled.

I smiled.

Without even knowing how.

I just felt like smiling around him.


Right under his mild sky.