“...do I know you?”

“Jung Cho? Class of 2010? Seven Lakes?”

His feline eyes sparkle in recognition and his lips curve up into the bright smile she remembers from so long ago.

“Wow, such a small world. Here, let me help you up,” he chimes and outstretches his hand for you to take. Cho slips her hand into his grip and feels herself get dragged up from the rock she was crying on. “I’d ask you what’s wrong, but this isn’t exactly the appropriate place, is it now? I know a twenty-four hour cafe nearby. Let’s go.”

As they comfortably amble down the sidewalk in silence, Cho thinks about how she would never have expected to see Kim Jongdae again after high school until their student reunion, much less at the Han River in freaking South Korea.

On Jongdae’s defense, Cho had been a hazy high school memory not with everything that’s happened. He left for Korea after graduation so he could get a degree and also train with his coach occasionally. Jongdae didn’t achieve his professional golfer status until last year and only shows up in major golf tournaments in the U.S.

He didn’t even recognize Cho until she reminded him and could only then how much she had matured. She no longer had the baby fat on her cheeks and her face seemed longer and more gaunt, but maybe he was just reading into it too much. She still had the soft gaze from high school but he could tell something had happened. They never stayed in touch after graduation, but he didn’t stay in touch with a lot of people, not even the crowd he hung out with.

The most complexing thing to Jongdae is he didn’t even know why he decided to approach her. Usually he’d just sneak behind the person and dodge on his way, but he noticed that her thumb kept making the ring on her middle finger circle around that area of skin and somewhat expected for her to stand up and fling it into the ocean.

But she didn’t, and he confronted her, and now they were here, on a sidewalk, in familiar comfortable silence, on their way to a twenty-four hour cafe with delectable caramel macchiatos. “So where’d you go after graduation?” she calmly tears the silence, though her voice is more of a lilt and nothing too sudden or cacophonous.

“Here. You?” he replies vaguely.

“Washington University in St. Louis,” she breathes and tenses a little before relaxing her shoulders.

“Didn’t Cady go there?” He frowns. Another person he didn’t keep in touch with.

“She gave me a lot of advice on how to get in, though she stubbornly insists that I got in on my own merit, which I think is some bull, but it’s all over now, isn’t it? Did you keep in touch with her? Though you don’t look like you’ve kept in touch with anyone.”

“Can you tell?” he chuckles while looking down and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Am I that easy to read?”

“I studied a little out of my psychology classes, so who knows?” Cho lilts.

“We’re here,” Jongdae announces and opens the door to a quaint little cafe for her. Cho murmurs her thanks and they both bow towards the cashier/barista who also bows toward them before looking up at the menu. They’re still contemplating and the barista waits patiently.

“Can we get a caramel macchiato and a peppermint hot chocolate? Oh, and can we get two slices of tiramisu?”

Cho spins her head in his direction in genuine shock and surprise as the cashier nods and taps the touch-screen monitor in front of him. Jongdae doesn’t know as he flips through some bills in his wallet.

“That’ll be 15,242 won, please,” the cashier reads and Jongdae slips him 16,000 won, but Cho covers the bills with her hand while fishing her wallet out with her other hand. “At least let me pay for my share, Jongdae.”

He blinks. “But I insist.”

“Please, Chennie-poo?” Cho pouts and dons her puppy eyes and Jongdae groans. “Why do you even still remember that horrible nickname,” Jongdae grumbles under his breath and Cho beams as she replaces Jongdae’s 10,000 won bill with a 5,000 won and three 1,000 won bills. Jongdae’s still grumbling and brooding over the supposedly long-forgotten nickname as he stuffs the 10,000 won back in his wallet and takes out two 1,000 won bills. The cashier takes all this in with a smile and Cho takes the change, only to put it in the tip jar. Another few bows, and they take their orders to a table in the far corner opposite the door.

After a few minutes of quiet sips, Cho cups her hands around the warm mug and gazes out the window. Jongdae thinks she looks a little too pensive.

“I guess I won’t press too much but...do you want to talk about it?” Jongdae breaks the silence as his pointer finger slowly circles the rim of his mug, traces of amber liquid catching onto his skin before he dabs said finger on a napkin and watches the coffee deflate the paper.

“It’s not much,” Cho replies a few seconds later. “I think I’m just still a seventeen year old at times, and it’s time to grow up and learn that people change at the most spontaneous times.”

“How so? Nobody says you can’t be a child at heart,” Jongdae retaliates and recalls how austerely mature Cho was back in high school.

“It’s more of being petty. I’m jealous that my best friend, someone so indifferent ninety-nine percent of the time, warmed up to a high school freshman girl within twenty-four hours when it took him a year and a half to warm up to me and to stop telling me everything was just...okay.”

“I guess I can understand where you’re coming from,” Jongdae hums after taking a sip and slightly frowning when there’s only half a cup left. He likes this too much. “Do you like him?”

“In a romantic context?” Cho specifies as she directs her gaze away from the window to him. He nods and she gives a small smile. “Minseok saved me, so I think I did like him a little, but those feelings are long gone. With the romance out, it’s just a petty friendship issue. I almost feel like I’m back in elementary school a little bit.”

“But enough about me,” Cho cuts in when Jongdae opens his mouth and he immediately closes it because he did promise to not press the issue. “So how’s the pro golfer life? I remember Dad mentioning you once or twice when he saw you on TV.”

“It’s life, I guess,” Jongdae shrugs. “Nobody really cares about the celebrity life of golfers. There are commercials here and there, but I’ve only been stopped a few times for autographs.”

“Is it anything like the freshman from girl’s golf who ran over to you and confessed her undying affection for your playing and then asked for you autograph in the middle of the hallway? You were her idol, if I remember her exact words,” Cho grins devilishly as Jongdae ponders before chuckling at the memory.

“Nothing like that. People have become straightforward these days, you know? How’s the tiramisu?” Jongdae nods his head in the direction of her half-eaten slice.

“Absolutely delicious, but if I had to be honest, nothing beats Minseok’s Mom’s homemade tiramisu,” Cho moans as the mocha-flavored cream smoothly melts in . Jongdae continues to grin and finishes the remnants on his own plate.

-

“Thank you for helping me get my mind off of stuff,” Cho verbalizes her genuine gratitude. She hasn’t had this much fun in a while, though there’s never a lack of humor in the office. To think that her jealousy would come just two weeks after her first day at work mentally stuns her a bit, though she shakes it off.

“It was fun. I have to thank you though for getting me out of my comfort zone. Honestly, I purposely didn’t stay in touch with anyone after high school...maybe because everybody was so materialistic sometimes? I didn’t want to have to associate myself with that, especially with my status, you know?”

“I do,” Cho agrees in a sunken, dreamy voice as she recalls her own life in high school. “I was on the receiving end many times during those awful four years.”

“You ride the bus?” Jongdae inquires when Cho moves to plop onto the bus bench. “It’s not safe right now. I’ll drive you home. My car’s not far from here.”

Cho doesn’t bother refusing because he’s right.

A comfortable car ride home and gentlemanly actions later, Cho finds herself at her apartment building with Jongdae standing not too far from her.

“Thank you again for the car ride home. I need to treat you some time.”

“And thank you again. Well, if you say so, I’m going to need your number, no?”

“Naturally,” Cho chuckles and inputs her number into the phone in Jongdae’s hand. “I don’t have my phone on me, so text me later. No texting and driving, okay?” Cho playfully scolds and Jongdae rolls his eyes before softly smiling at her. She unlocks the door and waves at him before disappearing behind the tinted glass.

Half an hour later with a text of, “Hey this is Jongdae :)” and a quick shower, Cho collapses and rolls onto her side to bury her cheek into the pillow before falling into an unexpected and completely unprecedented state of deep, dreamless sleep.