Bora meets Nayoung in her required writing class.  The girl sits in the back, sandy hair long, swooped to the side of her elegant neck.

She takes a deep breath when she takes a seat next to the girl, finding the closest empty chair in the class.

The girl turns to look at her, eyes sharp, mouth lined in a blush pink.

Bora stiffens under the gaze, bowing her head slightly.

It feels almost unreal, when the other girl’s lips break into a smile, cheekbones rising, eyes forming crescent moons.

“Hi,” she says, voice another contradiction, “I’m Kim Nayoung, are you a freshman too?”

Bora should have taken this class a while ago, instead she had pushed it aside, not wanting to waste her time with required classes that didn’t interest her.

“No,” she answers, feeling silly for her bow now that it turns out the other girl is younger.  

The class around them is buzzing with chatter, voices hushed, people still walking in, looking for seats in the front.

“I’m just taking this class a little late,” she finishes, her bag is still in her lap and she takes out a notebook, her pencil case.

“What’s your name?” the younger girl asks, “I told you my name you should tell me yours!”

Bora looks up from her notebook, she’s written the date, the name of the class, The Art of Poetry, she goes quiet.

The other girl looks at her, eyes looking at her with something that Bora feels should not be directed at her, some sort of interest.

“I’m Shin Bora,” she answers, voice falling into a whisper when the professor finally enters.  The conversations around them go quiet and Bora doesn’t let herself think of the girl next to her.

The class is quick, an introduction of the course, requirements that must be met, important dates and they’re dismissed.  

Bora puts her things away carefully, sliding her notebook into her book bag along with her pencil case.

She startles when she rises, swinging her book bag over her shoulders and almost bumps into the other girl.

She’s standing by the hallway, patiently waiting.  For her?

Now that they’re standing next to each other she can see how much taller the other is, her long hair reaching past her shoulders, long legs under blue jeans.

“I was wondering,” the girl smiles at her, Bora swallows nervously, “if we could exchange numbers, in case we need something regarding this class.”

The professor had advised making a class buddy for this very thing.  Bora sees the logic in it, knows it can’t be anything else but that.  She nods.

“Sure,” she says, pulling out her phone from her own skirt’s pocket, “put your number in.”

It goes awkwardly quiet, Bora holding her phone out, the other girl looking past her, as if making some sort of decision.

“Actually,” she says, holding her own phone out, “you should put your in mine and I’ll text you!”

Bora looks at her skeptically, but she feels the way she’s already beginning to blush from embarrassment of being more or less turned down.

“Ok,” she says, taking the unlocked phone, already open to the add contact page.  She punches her number in carefully, unsure of what to save her name as before she settles for shin bora (poetry class).

She waits nervously as the other texts her, holding her phone when it buzzes.

“I’m Kim Nayoung,” she says, “in case you’ve forgotten."

She hadn’t, saves her new contact as kim nayoung (poetry class).

-

There’s a message waiting for her the next morning.

have a good day at school unnie! (you are older than me right, unnie?)

The contact name is kim nayoung (poetry class).

She doesn’t answer back.

-

Unfortunately her poetry class meets twice a week, it’s not long before Wednesday comes along and Bora finds herself standing outside the classroom.  

There’s no reason to stay there, the previous class has left, her own classmates trailing in.  She’s being silly, over dramatic, when she considers skipping class and going to the library instead.

She eventually goes in, slowly shuffling to her seat, Nayoung already there, rummaging through her bag.

It doesn’t take more than a second after she sits to have Nayoung looking at her, smile threatening to break.

“Hi, unnie,” she says, voice rough around the edges, “I thought you weren’t going to show up today.”

Her shoulders are bare, Bora holds in a breath, eyes unable to keep away from looking at the swooping lines of glowing skin, the way the white ruffles of her shirt draw attention to it.

Bora offers an awkward smile, eyes flickering to look at the other girl, “I was running a little late, the hallways get crowded.”

Nayoung nods at that, smile finally free when she rests her chin on her hand, leaning forward.  

Her lipstick is a little darker today, Bora notices.

“Do you think this class will be hard,” she asks, eyes looking at her curiously, “I’m a bit nervous about it.”

Bora holds in her laugh, unable to make any thoughts about the girl next to her having any feeling of nervousness.

“It’s an introductory class,” she says instead, voice thankfully stable, “it won’t require much writing if that’s what you’re nervous about.”

Nayoung is still looking at her, gaze unrelenting, “I don’t mind writing,” she says to her, “I’m a writing and literature major.”

“Ah,” Bora leans back against her seat, unable to escape Nayoung’s look, “then it will be easy for you.”

Nayoung nods at this, still leaning forward, “what are you majoring in?”

Bora wonders when their professor is going to walk in.

“Photography,” she says, “I like taking pictures.”

Nayoung can’t answer before their professor finally walks in, passing by quickly, setting his things down on the desk up front.

Bora relaxes, looking forward to the boring lecture, not having to talk to Nayoung much longer.

-

“Do you have other classes after this?” Nayoung asks when Bora walks out the classroom, the other girl is waiting for her.

She answers before thinking about the situation, shaking her head, “No.”

“Do you want to go get something to drink,” Nayoung asks, big smile pointed at her, cheeks gone high, eyes forming cute crescents.

Bora hesitates, blinking at the bright expression from the other girl.

Her stomach feels like it’s housing a thousand fluttering butterflies, her chest like it's burning with her stuttering heart.

She looks at the other girl, tilting just enough to meet her eyes, make up their height difference.

She’s asking as friends, she thinks to herself, anything to make her heart stop its attempted escape from her chest.

“Sure,” she says, palms sweaty when she curls them into fists, “I guess.”

The other girl falters at the response, eyes gone into a curious gaze, a flicker of something that looks wrong in the other girl’s eyes.

“You can say no,” Nayoung’s voice has gone a bit lower, quiet, “if I’m bothering you.”

Bora’s heart gives up on beating, her thoughts halting into a sense of confusion, guilt.

“I said sure,” she replies, flinching at the words, she has never been so good with them, not when it matters, “so yes, let's go.”

Her voice sounds too steady for the chaos going on in her stomach, her chest.

Nayoung looks her over, gaze unflickering, she takes a step back, turning around, starting to walk.

Bora stands in the empty hallway.  For a second her heart feels like it will never beat again, stomach dropping.

And then Nayoung turns to look at her, over her bare shoulders, gaze bright again, rose pink lips offering a different smile, just as beautiful, heart racing.

“Let’s go eat, unnie.”