Amber’s POV

Someone’s shaking you.

“Go away Hyuna,” you mumble, but the shaking just gets rougher.

“Who’s Hyuna?” you hear someone ask snappishly.

That voice. You open your eyes and see Krystal glaring down at you.

“Who’s Hyuna?” she repeats.

“Uh, my ex.”

At that Krystal’s mouth forms into a tight line but she releases you. You gingerly get up. Sleeping on a very soft sofa definitely did nothing for your back. You slowly try touching your toes but give up halfway. Krystal’s still standing next to you and she looks pissed.

“What’s up Krystal?”

“Nothing,” she peevishly says. You give her a shrug.

After a beat.

“So, there’s this really good casual burrito place nearby. I thought maybe if you’re hungry you’d like to go with me? Cause I’m starving.”

She still looks like a grumpy lioness but her tone is calmer. You get the feeling that she’s trying to say sorry for last night. You feel a bit guilty. She did nothing wrong.

“I’ll come. Thanks for choosing a more chill place.” You try to put an apology in those words. Maybe she feels it because her posture relaxes and she gives you a hesitant smile.

“Well get ready then, we’re meeting my friend in the lobby. Here’re your clothes.”

She hands you your shirt and pants. They’re very wrinkly from sitting in a heap on the floor.

“Give me a sec. I’m going to iron these.” You go to the closet and take out an ironing board and iron. “Get me a cup of water.”

Krystal jogs to the restroom and comes back with a goblet of water. You fill up the iron’s tank and let it heat up. Running the iron a few times over your clothes smooths out the fabric.

“Can I try?”

You look into her earnest eyes.

“Okay, but be careful. These are the only clothes I brought.”

She nods and you let her hold the iron.

“It’s not moving!”

“You have to push it. Here, let me show you.” You gently enclose her small hand in your own and help her run the blade over your pants. After a few tries you let go and watch her go over each seam.

“I’m doing it! Look!”

She proudly presses the iron into the fabric again. The smell of burning cloth wafts toward your nose. Crap. You knock her hand out of the way and pick up the iron. It lifts with a sizzle, leaving a smoking hole in the crotch of your pants.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry Amber!”

Krystal gives you a teary gaze. You resignedly pick up your pants and examine the damage. There was no way you’d be able to sew this back up—the hole’s too large and ragged. How did she manage to burn through denim?

“Amber, I promise I’ll take you shopping. I’ll get you even better pants than these!”

“Krystal,” you sigh, “you can’t just replace these. These are my lucky pants. I always wear them