nineteen
My Best Friend's a Wingman
n i n e t e e n ; it’s a first
“Sorry about my parents—well my dad mostly.”
“Don’t worry.” Sehun shakes his head, surpassing my pace in order to open the passenger door. Nobody has ever opened a car door for me, and this gesture is so adorably deliberate that the warmth inside my chest can’t contain itself. “Thank you,” I mutter timidly. I slid inside his car. The first thing I notice is how neat it is compared to Kai’s car. The second thing is how vanilla the air smells. They’re qualities that I wouldn’t expect from a guy, but come as a pleasant surprise nonetheless. He starts the engine and says with a tiny chuckle, “I would do something similar too if I had a daughter, and she’s going on a date.”
I identify the keyword in his statement without a beat. “Date?”
He must be caught up guard because he stops reversing out of the parking and gives me a startled gaze. “I mean, this is one, right?”
I in a small breath. “Is it?”
“Do you want it to be? Because I mean, I thought it was already implied when I asked you. But it doesn’t have to be one. It could just be a hangout. Yeah, hangout.” His words frantically rush out of him. How could someone so popular seem so inexperienced and unsure of himself? Seeing how truly unconfident Sehun is relaxes me, because it means that I’m not the only one nervous about today.
“Do you?” Now that I’m gaining some assurance, I answer with a question in what I hope would come off as flirtatious teasing. However, due to how much experience I lack in that aspect, my tone unsuccessfully conveys teasing and rather resembles coyness. “Want this to be a date, I mean?”
He holds eye contact with me, and I can see the sincerity in his expression. “Of course,” he answers.
“Me too.”
So it’s a date. Not a maybe one.
• • • • • • •
For a museum, The Landscape is significantly more packed and less peaceful, buzzing with energy from the curious guests. Everything inside screams hipster while its modern trendiness is dying to be captured and posted on social media. The hot pink walls, quirky sculptures, and eye-catching art. Sehun and I try to maneuver ourselves to the light room where the neon lights are supposed to be. On our way, I accidentally bump against someone, causing me to stagger behind. I mutter a quick apology and find myself separated from Sehun amidst the sea of guests. I wander around, looking for him until a hand clasp against mine. “There you are.”
My eyes trail from our link hands to the face that belongs to that voice. Sehun gives me a gentle smile before leading me forward, his grip firmer as though preventing another separation.
Not in a billion years would I have dreamed something unreal as this to come true. It hasn’t hit me yet that this could indeed be a dream. It reminds me of a fan theory that the worst ending to a long book series would be the author marking the main character’s journey from all books as dreams that he had while in a coma. What if I’m in a coma right now without knowing it? To one day waking up and realizing all the things from today is one big imagination? That this date, the way Sehun is looking at me like he could actually have some interest in me, and how my hand fits in his are something as fictitious as a dream.
The abrupt dimness knock me out of my thoughts. We find ourselves more careful with our steps because the hallway leading to the light room is a void of light. A paradox, I realize. The darkness continues until we arrive at a large room. The sight is breathtaking. All sorts of neon colors glow through the pitch black room, like dozens of stars brightening up the night sky. Every section of neon lights have each of their own shapes or phrases. There’s one on the right wall that looks like a text conversation between two people. There’s a three dimensional one shaped of stacked cubes in blue, red, and green. Ones in cursive lettering, rainbow colors, and so many more.
However, the one that stands out the most is placed in the middle, curved and shaped in fluorescent white block letters: WHAT DO YOU LOVE?
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