Miss (i)

Freshman year, May.

It's you again.

I lower my head and fixate my eyes on my papers as you pass by with your friends. Jongin sits opposite me on the bench, snivelling his nose frequently when he comes across a question he can't answer. 

"Chanhee, which class do we have to go to?"

I flutter my eyelids as I hear you speak, remembering your voice from that day. I peek up to see you and your friends have stopped in the middle of the hallway, one of the boys rummaging through his bag. He slips out a crumpled piece of paper and passes it to you.

"There. We gotta go here to watch this group first then go for our own presentation next door."

You squint at the paper and nod, before your gaze falls behind your friend. I in a breath and avert my eyes, scribbling illegibly onto the paper. Did you look at me?

"We better go up early. You know Choi-songsaengnim," another boy pipes up, groaning loudly. "Yesterday, this group had their parents called because they didn't go watch their assigned presentation."

You look at your friends with lips parted, curiously blinking as your friends start to babble. I let my eyes linger on you for a while more. You've gotten a new hair cut. It looks nice on you.

I told myself I would get out of the habit of looking at you, but I... just keep on doing so.

"I'm nervous about Bomi being in the audience. I don't want to screw up in front of her! God, why can't they just let our own class groups be our audience. Or better yet, have no audience at all. As if teachers aren't already enough."

Someone slaps your friend on the head and you break out into laughter.

"Stop being a baby," another of your friends snaps. "She doesn't even know who the heck you are."

The patter of footsteps die away and I lift my head hesitantly, watching your form disappear down the hallway. Jongin suddenly smacks me in the face and I yelp as he cackles evilly.

", what were you looking at? Hurry up and memorise your script." Jongin chides, tapping his pen on my script. He checks his watch, sinking his cheek against his palm. "Should we go up? Jeongmin and Hyunseong better hurry the hell up."

I nod, slinging my bag over a shoulder as we pace to our designated classroom.

"Who's our audience?" I ask and turn to see Jongin staring at me, clicking his tongue in wonder. He pats my forehead, letting out a long sigh.

"Man, it's unbelievable how different you look without your glasses. Seriously." He peers at me closely with wide eyes and I lean back with a look of askance.

"And your hair. Who knew, man? Who knew you'd look so hot without your gross bowl cut and glasses?" Jongin sighs, patting his chest. "It's been, what, two months? But I'm still amazed by it."

"You broke my spectacles," I deadpan, recalling Jongin throwing the basketball on our first practice and hitting me dead smack in the face. 

"And you still haven't thanked me for that. It was a blessing. Besides, I was the one who brought you to the barber as a sorry gift and told you to get contacts."

Jongin pulls out the notice and skims through it.

"Here. Jieun's group and some group with that singer boy Chanhee inside."

I blink and read the list of names, eyes enlarging the moment I see your name at the bottom. Yoo Youngjae.

"Wait, this group?" I point to your name to affirm.

Jongin nods, quizzically peering at me. He