Tuesday

A large yawn took a hold of me, and I covered my mouth hoping my teacher wouldn’t notice. Man, was I tired. It served me right. I lay in bed thinking too long about Eunhyuk last night. I’m not sure why I was so entranced with him. He’s great looking, but geez I just met the guy. I’m not usually taken with people quite that fast. I think it was because he’s older. An actual adult, not a “kid” like my friends and me. I can’t wait to be twenty like him—so confident and independent. I just want to take this whole growing up thing and rip it off like a Band-Aid. Get all those awkward firsts out of the way.

Like , for example. I want it, but I also want it over with. The first time out of the way for good. No more worrying about it.

Naturally, that got me daydreaming about with Eunhyuk, so when Mr. Mun asked me a question I no doubt would have had trouble with anyway, I had no chance whatsoever. Onew chuckled beside me. Sulli leaned around him. “It’s six,” she whispered.

“Six?” I answered, tentatively.

“That’s your answer. Six.” Mr. Mun leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms across his chest. Not a good sign.

“Um...well, it depends how you look at it?” I could feel my ears starting to burn.

“The chemical composition of sulphuric acid is six,” Mr. Mun stated, his voice flat.

“Oh...um...I meant, it’s got six molecules,” I corrected, taking a shot in the dark.

“No.”

Mr. Mun abandoned his hopes for me and moved on to another student.

“Thanks a lot,” I whispered to Sulli, who was busy giggling with Onew at my misery. “Must be so nice to have friends who are actually helpful,” I admonished them.

“I’m free at lunch,” Onew began, apologetically. “I’ll help you then. We can meet in the caf for a bit, OK?” He patted my arm.

He was true to his word.

********

After lunch, I ran into Minho and Key in the hall. As soon as he saw me, Key took that as his cue to leave and veered off down an adjacent hallway. Minho and I walked to gym class together.

“What’s the deal with him, Minho? I don’t understand why you hang out with him.”

“Aw, Key’s a good guy.”

“Really? Because I’ve only ever seen him be prickly at best and cold at worst. He never talks to anyone—except you, of course.”

“Do you talk to him?”

“No,” I scoffed. “I think he hates me. Seriously, Minho, I get zero vibes from the guy that he wants a conversation out of me.”

Minho cocked his head to one side. “You might be surprised,” he started. “I think he’s a little shy. Something tells me his experience at his last school wasn’t so hot. Maybe he’s taking the approach of rejecting people before they can reject him.” Minho opened the change room door and waited for me to walk through ahead of him. “You know, it wasn’t that long ago you were the new guy in town,” he reminded me. “You remember how hard it was when you arrived a couple of years ago? Just talk to him. I promise, he’s really a solid guy.”

I shrugged. Minho was right about one thing: it really did take a while for me to fit in. And as much as he can be kind of gullible at times, Minho’s a good judge of character. “Fine, I’ll try,” I agreed. “But I’m not getting my hopes up.”

********

Gym class was, of course, disastrous. Not for Minho the Athlete, but for me. I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could finally go to music class and feel like I belonged. My teacher, Mr. Kim, is the best. Lately he’s gone off curriculum with me and is letting me write songs during class. At least that’s one class where I’m guaranteed an A.

After music I wandered to the library in search of Minho. Instead, I found his counterpart, Key, reading again. Maybe that’s all this kid ever does.

“Um, hey.”

Key looked up from his book briefly, but didn’t say anything. He went back to reading.

“I’m looking for Minho. You seen him?”

“No.”

OK. That was one more word than I expected. I sat down sort of across from him and opened my knapsack, fishing around for my math book. The librarian glanced up at us, so I kept my voice down. “I was hoping we could work on math together,” I continued, plopping my book down in front of me. “He’s not great at it,” I prattled on, “but he’s better than me.”

I opened up my book and began flipping pages to get to the section on triangles.

To my surprise, Key replied. “Math’s not really my thing either.”

I smiled and nodded, increasingly aware of the pregnant pause that now hung between us. “Um...hey, I like your shirt,” I offered, trying to fill the space. “The sleeves...they’re cool.”

Key looked up from his book again. I think it was the first time he ever looked at me without shooting daggers. He pursed his lips, seemingly scanning my comment for sarcasm. “Thanks,” he said eventually. “I made it.”

“You’re kidding!” I exclaimed, and then remembered to drop my voice again. “How’d you learn to do that?”

“My grandmother taught me.” He closed up his book.

Feeling encouraged, I tried to keep the conversation going. “Nice.”

Great comeback, right?

Key got up and threw his satchel over his shoulder.

“Hey, you playing in that soccer match after school tomorrow?” I blurted out.

The librarian shhh’d me, and I nodded in apology.

“Pfft, no,” Key whispered. “Sports are worse than math.”

“Cool, that’s two things we have in common.” I laughed awkwardly.

Key spun toward the door, and as I was thinking he was going to just leave, I heard a quiet, “See ya.”

I exhaled with relief. Well, that could have gone worse. We’re not exactly besties, but I feel I made a little headway. Maybe.

********

“Hey, let’s hang out at your house today,” I suggested.

“Why?” asked Taemin. “We always go to your house.”

We were sitting on the front steps of school. For the end of February, it was really pretty mild out.

I was sitting behind Taemin, playing with his hair—it’s a favourite pastime. Seriously, his hair is so soft. And it smells nice too. I leaned forward to have a quick sniff at the nape of his neck. “No reason,” I replied. “Just for a change.”

Taemin spun around and pointed at me accusingly. “You’re hoping we’ll see Eunhyuk,” he teased.

“Me?” I tried to look offended. “No, I just thought it would be different.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kim Jonghyun. I know you too well,” he warned. “Fine, we’ll go to my house, but only until dinner ’cause I have chores to do.”

********

Luck was with me. When we arrived at Taemin’s house, Eunhyuk was outside on his parents’ drive, washing his car. He was wearing skinny jeans that hugged his as he bent down to dip his sponge in the soapy water bucket. It was like a cliché scene from a made-for-TV movie, but in my mind it was perfection.

“Hi Eunhyuk!” Taemin called out.

Eunhyuk stopped scrubbing the road salt off his car door and turned around. His face lit up when he saw Taemin, and he dropped his sponge in the bucket with a splosh and came over to where we were standing on Taemin’s front lawn. “Taemin! Hey, kid, how’re you doing? Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to talk to you yesterday.” He wiped his wet hand on his jeans and extended it.

“That’s OK,” said Taemin, shaking his hand. “I’m good,” he nodded. Then, remembering me standing there. “Oh, this is my friend Jonghyun.” He gestured toward me. “Jonghyun, this is Eunhyuk.”

“Hi,” I said, brain spinning for something to say while I shook his damp hand. “I see you’re wearing clothes today.” Great. Nice going, brain.

“Excuse me?”

“Yesterday, after the basketball match, you...uh...” I mimed pulling off a shirt. Jonghyun, just shut up. “Um...never mind.”

To my relief, Eunhyuk just laughed. “So what are you two up to?”

“Hanging out,” said Taemin. And then, to my dismay, “We’ll probably play some video games.”

Sigh. That meant going inside. I wanted a reason to stay out here with Eunhyuk, even for a few minutes. “Unless you need help washing the car,” I suggested.

“Nah, I’m good. I think she’s pretty much done,” Eunhyuk replied, looking her over. “You boys go have fun. I’ll catch you later.”

We waved goodbye and turned to head to the house when he called out again. “Hey, Taemin, are you playing soccer after school tomorrow?”

“You bet!”

“How about you, Jonghyun?”

“Uh, no, soccer’s not really my...”

“He’s a musician,” Taemin offered proudly.

Eunhyuk looked impressed. “A musician? Wow.”

“Yeah, he’s really good.” Turning to me, “But you’re going to come and watch us play right?”

“Of course!”

“Great! See you both then,” Eunhyuk called out before picking up his bucket. I stared as his lithe body disappeared between the houses.

Taemin snapped his fingers in my face. “Earth to Jonghyun.”

“Sorry,” I said, following him to his side door. “Do you think we’ll ever be that cool, Taemin? I mean, he just seems so together, doesn’t he?”

“I’m already cool. But you? Probably not,” he laughed.

I gave him a light punch in the arm.

“You worry too much,” he said, unlocking the side door and stepping aside for me to enter. He followed me in, threw his knapsack in the corner, and sat on the stairs unlacing his shoes. “Some people are cool. Others have different things going for them. Take you—people like you, Jonghyun. Who cares if you’re not all smooth?”

“I guess,” I replied, lining up my shoes beside his. “It would just be nice not to be so awkward.”

“But you’re cute when you’re awkward.” Taemin made a pouty face and then ran off to the kitchen before I could swat him.

I sat down at Taemin’s kitchen table and waited while cupboard doors banged open and closed as Taemin rummaged for snacks. It was like someone had given him 10 seconds to find what he was looking for.

“Oh!” He suddenly spun around. “Your mom’s still on nights, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“I’ll make you dinner!” he said, heading back over to the first cupboard.

Dinner? I’ve known Taemin for two years now. He’s not exactly a master chef.

“Found it!” Taemin reached deep into the cupboard and retrieved something crinkly. Then he turned and held up two packets of instant ramen beside each of his proud cheeks.

I raised my eyebrows.

“Just wait and see,” said Taemin, putting them on the counter and searching for a saucepan. Apparently he doesn’t know his way around the kitchen because that took a few tries as well. “I make it differently.”

Great.

“Need any help?”

“Nah.” Taemin waved me off. “I got this.”

While Taemin busied himself with putting the water on to boil and getting ingredients out of the fridge, I wandered into the living room. Through the front window, I could see Eunhyuk busily towel-drying the windows of his car. His lips were moving, but I didn’t see anyone else around. I pressed my ear to the window. He had the car stereo playing and was rapping along with a song. Damn.

“You’re not allergic to eggs, are you?” Taemin called out.

I went back to the kitchen. Taemin had the noodles on a rolling boil and was about to crack an egg into the pot.

“Nope, no allergies.”

“Watch this.”

I sidled up behind him and rested my chin on his shoulder. Taemin cracked the egg on the side of the pot and expertly broke it open with one hand, plopping its contents neatly into the saucepan.

“Taemin, you’re amazing.” I took my seat at the table again and put my feet up on the chair beside me.

Taemin grabbed another egg and tried to duplicate the feat—it didn’t go so well this time. Well, one out of two. He grabbed a small spoon out of a nearby drawer and began chasing bits of eggshell around the pot. Every time he nearly had one extricated, it slid off the spoon at the last minute, back into our dinner. This was going to take a while.

By the time the eggs were cooked, Taemin had most of the eggshell out, so he turned his attention to his remaining ingredients: sesame oil and two slices of plastic cheese. He poured a splash of the former into the pot. “Almost ready,” he announced, placing two sets of chopsticks on the table.

Taemin began banging cupboard doors again until he found a couple of bowls. He scooped an egg into each bowl, followed it with a mass of noodles, and poured in the remaining soup. Then he placed a slice of cheese on the top of each bowl.

“Ta-da!” he sang, placing the bowls on the table. He pushed my feet off the chair and took a seat.

I peered into my bowl. The cheese was melting rapidly and sliding to the bottom, but the rest looked fairly nicely cooked, and it didn’t smell half-bad.

Taemin sat waiting. Clearly I was to try it first. Tentatively, I dipped my chopsticks into the bowl and retrieved some noodles. I blew on them longer than was necessary because I knew Taemin was waiting.

“C’mon already!” he nagged.

I laughed and popped the food in my mouth. I nodded approvingly as I chewed—it was really pretty decent.

“Ha! See, you didn’t know I could cook, did you?” He sat with his chest puffed out, emanating an air of superiority.

“I did not. You’re a wonder,” I conceded.

Taemin and I ate in silence for a minute or two. I watched as he tried to corner his egg—it gave him the slip a couple of times.

“So, your neighbour is out there rapping while he dries his car,” I mentioned, trying to sound like it didn’t really matter to me.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, scraping a piece of eggshell off his tongue. “He and Donghae used to be in a band in high school. I had forgotten about that. They were good.”

Having finished my noodles, I picked up the bowl and drank the rest of the soup. “He was the rapper?”

“Yeah, but he sang too. I don’t think he played an instrument. But he can move on stage, boy. I remember this one performance, he had dyed his hair blue and he was strutting around on stage with a jewelled cane, swivelling his hips.” Taemin paused and drank the rest of his soup from his bowl as I had. “I think some of the teachers thought he went a bit over the top, but Miss Park sure looked impressed. The school went crazy for him after that.”

“Damn, I wish I’d seen that. You think he still performs?” I ran my finger across the bottom of the bowl and scooped out a lump of cheese.

“Not that I know of. Too bad, though, it was something.”

I got up and fetched us each a glass of water. “What do you think he’s like in bed?” I guess that wasn’t a very smooth segue, but after hearing about his swivelling hips, that’s where my mind was yet again.

“What?” Taemin’s mouth dropped open.

“, what do you think he’s like?”

“I don’t know, Jonghyun!” Taemin’s cheeks began to redden. He grabbed our bowls and put them in the sink.

“C’mon, you don’t think about ?”

“No...well, yes...but I don’t think about talking about , that’s for sure.”

“Lately, I think about all the time,” I said, ignoring his attempt to avoid the subject. “Like, all the time. Maybe I’d even be passing Chemistry if I could actually pay attention to it, but as soon as Mun starts droning on about covalent bonds pairing or coupling reactions, my brain is right back to .” My speech was picking up speed. “And I’m so full of questions: How do you even let someone know you want it? How do you know who’s gonna do what? Should I be facing up? Down? Sideways?”

“Oh my god, Jonghyun, stop.” By then Taemin’s whole face was pink. He grabbed the dish soap and sponge and began frantically scrubbing the bowls, which I’m sure was a first.

“I just hate waiting for life to happen to me, Tae. I dunno, I think sometimes you’ve just got to put yourself out there, make things happen. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”

Taemin shook his head. “I can’t figure out why you’re in such a hurry,” he continued. “You only get to be sixteen once, Jonghyun. Why do you want to rush it?”

I pretended to look around the room for someone else. “Oh, I could have sworn I heard my mother. Was that you talking?” I jested.

Taemin flicked a fistful of suds at me. He’s adorable when he’s laughing. He always looks like he’s embarrassed by it, but absolutely everything cracks him up.

********

Lying in bed that night, I had a crazy idea. No, idea is too strong a word. It wasn’t like I had any intention of it becoming reality; it was just a thought that popped into my head. Just a random thought.

What if I could get Eunhyuk to sleep with me?

My heart skipped a beat. OK, settle down, I told myself. This isn’t serious. I’m just having fun imagining it. I mean, that would solve one of my problems, right? Get that first one out of the way with someone who has some experience.

I chuckled. Such a dumb idea.

Or was it?

Someone that popular and smooth, off living at university—he probably slept with someone different every week, right? I’ll bet it’d be no big deal to him at all. I just needed to let him know I was interested.

My heart started racing.

Stop this! It’s nonsense. I’m not actually thinking of doing this.

But...on the other hand, I figured he could teach me a few things. Plus, if it went poorly, as situations often do with me, it wouldn’t even matter. He’d be off to uni again in a few days—no one would even know.

By then, my heart was pounding. I wasn’t really considering this. Was I?