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Irene likes to count. She had been doing so ever since she could remember. It starts with the words in a sentence, and then the letters in each word. She counts the number of steps it takes to walk from one room to another and the power lines that she passes by while in the car.
 

It wasn't a habit that's obsessive-compulsive, for it doesn’t matter to her whether her counts are accurate. There is no urge to check whether the light switch is really off nor does she have a panic attack if her hands aren't clean enough – it was comparable to how one would shake their leg or drum the surface with their fingers. Mostly, it was a way to keep her mind occupied during boring lessons in school and long road trips.
 

She always counts the stairs but if it ends on an odd number, she’ll include the landing or the floor as a step to even it out. Even or odd, she can never decide which she is more comfortable with, but her mind strangely finds satisfaction in patterns of three. She hates 7 but finds comfort in 29 (it’s her birthday). She likes 15 but not 13 (ominous number) and for some inexplicable reason, she absolutely loves the number 21.
 

It’s really no surprise that any subject with numbers and calculations in it, is her favourite.
 

Irene is also a quiet person. She hardly has any friends she can count on (literally). Of course, it doesn't help that most of her icebreaker conversations starts with her telling the other party about the number of loose threads on their shirt. Or the number of times the laces on their shoes cross one another.
 

Naturally, people find her to be weird.

And so she wonders why she is standing at the corner of a crowded dorm room, a lone spectator of a typically wild party, sipping on her fruit punch (hopefully not spiked) when she could have been back at her room, studying.
 

She blames her roommate for dragging her along, although she suppose it is the lack of resolve on her part that allowed the girl's argument to sway her.
 

"But you hardly go out! C'mon you won't die if you don't stay in for one night!"
 

Irene argued, "I do go out! And you know what people say about me..."
 

Seulgi deadpanned, "You went out to wash your clothes.” She sighed and patted Irene on the head, “You could at least try. Who knows? You might make a new friend or something."
 

A new friend? Ha. What a joke. Irene glances around the room. Everyone has somebody to be with and the few other lone people around are usually the drunks and wasted. It isn't that she doesn't like talking to people. Her shyness overwhelms her at the wrong times and she always messes things up in the end. The introvert in her simply panics at the thought of interacting with anyone.
 

Irene sighs and gloomily stares into her cup. If there was anything inside the drink, it's certainly not taking any effect on her since it's already the third cup. She lifts her gaze and glances towards the exit twelve paces away from where she stands.
 

Though she wants to leave really badly, she couldn't just do so without Seulgi. No matter her protests, Seulgi left her a few minutes upon reaching the party and went to her friends.
 

"Seul..."
 

"It'll be fineeeee. Just be yourself!" Seulgi assured her, beaming widely before skipping over to the group of people waiting for her.
 

Be yourself, she says. Irene scoffs, her eyes busily scanning through the crowd in search of her roommate. As if on cue, a group of rowdy boys moves aside and Irene stops.
 

Directly in her line of sight, is a really beautiful girl. (Irene would later think that this was the cause of her brain stalling completely.)
 

It isn't the outfit - casual grey hoodie and a pair of faded black jeans - or the dyed blue tips of her dark hair. Irene is sure she wasn't the only one whose attention the mysterious stranger had unintentionally grabbed. The ease in the way she nonchalantly runs her fingers through her hair while still continuing to speak... The air of confidence she exudes... It's something Irene would have difficulty with. She can't even look at anyone in the eyes properly, save for Seulgi perhaps.
 

Her smile...her laughter as she chats with her circle of friends. And when she tilts her head slightly, Irene notes the bushy eyebrows and dark chocolate eyes that light up with every word she spoke.
 

Like a star, sparkling brightly in the dark sky.
 

When the girl turns towards her direction, Irene immediately averts her eyes, looking right at the bottom of her plastic cup. She really doesn't need "stalking pretty girls" to be added to the list Weird Things Irene Bae Joohyun Had Done.
 

The sudden beeping of her watch startles her out of her thoughts, her little jump causing a few weird looks to be thrown her way. Irene ducks her head in embarrassment and clumsily silences the alarm, indicating it's time to leave.
 

She looks up and realises the girl has disappeared, though her friends are still around. She feels a slight disappointment, but then again, it isn't as if she would have the guts to talk to the girl.
 

If the girl is a star, then Irene is just a freaking asteroid. A dull rock orbiting in space.
 

With another sigh, Irene decides to just send a quick message to Seulgi and leave her behind. This isn't her roommate's first party after all. She tosses her empty cup into a nearby trash bag and heads towards the exit, keeping her head down low.
 

One, two, three, four, she counts her steps in her head, dodging a wild partygoer and his swinging hand. Five, six, seven -
 

She bumps into someone and has a fleeting thought that of all numbers, it had to be seven.
 

Irene spins around to apologise. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going..." Her voice trails away when she notices who it is.
 

And the asteroid meets the star.
 

Mysterious Girl laughs, dismissing Irene with a wave of her hand. "It's fine. I wasn't looking either."
 

She stops, however, and really focuses on Irene. "But I'm looking now," she murmurs in a low voice.
 

But the star burns the asteroid.
 

Irene feels her cheeks burning and her feet refuse to budge, as if caught under the spell of the girl's gaze. Her brain shuts down on her and she fixes her eyes on a small rip on the girl's jeans, one among many. She forces to open, "I'm sor-"