This was better. Of course it was.

"Are you going to finish that?" Mark asked, nodding at the last of the donut on my plate. This was a running joke, testament both to his endless appetite and the fact we always ended up eating together. Almost three weeks of dating, and these things happen. It was all normal, exactly how it was supposed to go.

"Go ahead," I said, pushing to the plate to him.

He smiled, then picked it up, taking a bite. "The day you deny me your leftovers, I'll know we're finished."

"That's how you'll know?" I asked. "You'll miss every other sign?"

"Food is my language," he explained, drinking his coffee. "That's the way it words with us stubborn types. We miss other, normal cues."

Another inside thing between us: how we referred to his tactics in asking me, and actually getting me, to go out with him. Already, we had A story, our own story: that semester of Economics, just friends, followed by the  Somin wedding and then multiple attempts to get together, all messy with his schedule or mine. Finally, he saw me driving home one night, pulled a U-turn, and followed me to the next intersection, where texted me an invite for pizza. I went, we ate, then kissed, and the rest was . . . well, this.

It was nice, the kind of you want to tell, but I couldn't help but recognize the tiny cracks in our origin tale's foundation that only I could see. Like how on That Night I'd been coming from Jihyo and Suho's wedding, still remembering everything Sehun had said to me. The fact that when I got Mark's text at that light, I was typing back no before I realized he was right behind me. Small details, I knew, not really part of the outcome. And that was what mattered, anyway, the fact that we'd ended up together, over two slices, everything unfolding in a normal way. No instant dislike, dragging across parking lots, stealing of dogs and other annoying behavior, not a single weird bet or secret left unrevealed too long. If our relationship was a wedding, it would've been proceeding Just Fine, with no surprises or real problems. Unlike me and Sehun and whatever we might have been, most likely a Disaster.

So, yes. This was good. And I didn't have to worry about dating other people, because I'd won the bet. Though it didn't feel like much of a victory. It didn't feel like anything.

"You have foam on your nose," Mark said now, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "It's super cute. Let's take a picture."

I made myself smile as I settled in against him, focusing my eyes on the tiny dot on his phone that was the camera. Mark was big into documentation of us on his Instagram and other social medias. This first few times I'd scrolled through his feed and seen so much of my own face it had been alarming, although now I thought it was cute. Most of the time, anyway.

"Aish," he said, sliding his phone back as I checked my watch out of habit, even though I wasn't expected at work. "That woman sure can talk. Does she really think we need to hear about her lab results?"

I followed his eyes to the Phone Lady, at the next table, was indeed deep in conversation with someone about a recent "scan and blood draw, ordered by the doctor, and you know that's never good." I hadn't even heard her until now, which said something about my level of attention. "She's always does that," I explained."I think it's like therapy for her, or something."

"Sharing her personal information with the coffee-buying public?"

"I didn't say I understood it," I said. "I'm just reporting the facts."

He smiled at me: three for three inside jokes  in one meal. This one he'd first said to me that night at the pizza place. That he knew we were both going off to school soon, and it was probably not a good time to get involved, but that he'd been thinking about me nonstop and had to take a shot anyway. "I'm not pressuring you," was his exact phrasing, "but these are the facts." Another tiny imperfection, how I had rephrased his words, but close enough.

Which, really, would be the name I'd give our relationship, not that I could every say it aloud. We weren't madly in love yet, but I liked him a lot. It wasn't exactly epic, but we had a story. Not totally perfect, but, well, close enough. And I hadn't expected that anyway, from or any other guy, really. You only get so many sunset walks.

As I thought this, Mark leaned forward, surprising me with a quick kiss. I jumped, startled: I was still adjusting this style, a kind of dive-bomb affection that was cute, really. At the moment, I was aware of Kyungsoo, behind the counter, who'd been shooting me looks ever since we'd arrived. Mark had ordered for us, sparing me direct contact, for which I had been grateful. As he headed for the bathroom, though, Kyungsoo made a beeline for me.

"I have to admit," he said, in a dramatic way that made me suspect he'd planned what he was going to say ahead of time, "I'm surprised."

I looked around the busy shop; other customers, pastry display, Phone Lady now talking about her difficultities with her mother. "About what?"

he nodded toward the men's room. "You're here with someone who isn't Sehun. Kind of weird, considering he dumped my best friend for you."

"What?" I said. "No, he didn't."

"No, he didn't," he repeated in a high voice, mocking me. What a jerk, I thought. "Funny, because that's exactly what he told Tzuyu. Here she was, busy planning a wedding for her cousin and best friend, and you guys run off and hook up at the 1000 won store behind her back. Nice."

"I didn't hook up with anyone at the 1000 won store," I said, as a man at the next table looked over at me. When I glared at him, he quickly turned back around. "And if Sehun brought me into their relationship, that's all him. I had nothing to do with it."

This was true. Sure, I'd thought for a second I had some feelings for Sehun, but I'd been caught up in the moment, the wedding, not to mention spending basically my time with him for the entire summer. Just as quickly, though, on the dance floor, I'd realized my mistake, come to my senses, and gotten out of here. If Mark and I had our origin story, this was the opposite, bit it served the same purpose. The more I told it, the more I believed it.

"Everything okay?" Mark asked, returning to the table and putting his hands on the back of my chair.

"Yeah," I said, looking at Kyungsoo. "We were just catching up."

"I got to get back to work," he said, as if I'd been the one tearing him away from his job. "See you around, Suzy."

I nodded, and then, thankfully, he was leaving, going back behind the counter. "Nice guy," Mark observed. "I like the hair."

I smiled, turning to look up at him. "Don't get any ideas."

In response, he leaned down, kissing the top of my head. Another sneak attack, but this time I didn't react. I had a flash of how we must looked from the outside, a happy couple having breakfast and some mild PDA at the beginning of a late summer day. I wasn't sure what I meant that I did this often when it came to Mark and me steeping outside of myself to consider us from a distance, like an observer rather than participant in the relationship. Because you know you're going through the motions, a dark, quiet voice replied, the one I heard sometimes late at night when I couldn't sleep. To be honest, this was the same time  I found myself missing Sehun - his breaking of office supplies, melty croissants, and, maybe, kindness - in a way I couldn't explain. In daylight, though, it was easy to silence: I pushed out my chair, standing up, and it was gone.

"So you're off at six?" I asked Mark as we headed for the door, passing Phone Lady, who was still talking loudly, a biscuit in .

He pushed open the door, holding it for me. "yeah. Then I've got some top-secret birthday stuff to do. But I'll see you around eight."

"Mark," I said, as he joined me outside, then took my hand. "You don't have to do anything for my birthday."

"Oh, right," he replied. "Because that's exactly how you hold on to a wonderful girlfriend, ignoring her big day. I'm not that thick-headed, Bae."

"You're coming to the dinner," I told him. "Seriously. That's all I want."

"Too bad. You're getting more," he replied. I sighed. "Don't get mad. Just reporting the facts."

LOL. The truth was, with everything that had been going on lately - this new relationship, plus getting ready to leave for school in a matter of weeks - my birthday, a little a week away on July 25, kept slipping my mind. Normally I could've also blamed event fatigue, as this was thick in the marriage season. But after Jihyo and Suho's event, not to mention the ones every summer of my life so far, I'd decided to take a break from work to try to enjoy the time I had left at home wedding-free.

"Well, I think it's a wonderful idea," Eomma had said when I announced this a couple of hours after her return from Kyushu, as we sat drinking lemonade on the back porch. "You've earned some time off. After this vacation, I'm even more aware of how important things other than work are to your quality of life."

"She basically memorized Minhyuk's book," Wooyoung told me. "It's like she's in a cult now."

"Oh, stop it," Eomma said. Then she blushed, slightly, the same why I'd noticed she did every time Minhyuk was mentioned in conversation, which was, well, constantly, usually by her. "Enjoy your summer, Suzy. We'll be fine."

"See, now I know you're in love," Wooyoung told her. "Because the old Soojung would immediately be freaking out that we have four weddings ahead and will be down our best employee."

"That's nice," I said, touched. "Thanks."

"Don't get too excited. There's only Sehun to compare you to," he replied, taking a sip of his glass. He was still wearing the straw hat he'd bought for the trip, which he was tipped back on his head and said, "What?"

I blinked. "Sorry?"

"You just made a weird face."

"Did I?" I picked up my own glass. "I didn't mean to. Maybe I'm not used to compliments?"

"Maybe," he said slowly, as I took a sip. Eomma, across from me, was looking at her phone, another new habit since the vacation. Minhyuk had already texted three times since I'd picked them up, by my count. "Well, I missed you so much and am selfish enough to hope you get bored and decide to rejoin us on the front lines. But I'm not in love."

"Yet," Eomma said, eyes still on her phone.

"Yet?" I questioned. "Can you arrange a timeline for someone like that?"

"No," she replied, putting the phone aside. "But you can set up a date with a potential for it. Which is what Wooyoung agreed to do while we were away, with his meat friend."

"He's not my meat friend," Wooyoung said quickly. Now he was blushing. "And i made that promise after a night of champagne on an island. I can't be held responsible."

"Nonsense," Eomma said, waving her hand. "It counts. And you'll reach out to him this week, because Minhyuk and I both saw you swear to it."

"Minhyuk again,"  Wooyung said to me. "Get ready to hear that name a lot. I know I have. Next thing you know he'll be moving in."

"Doesn't he live in Kyushu?" I asked.

"He had a house there, for the necessary and all-too-rare act of recharging," Eomma explained, as Wooyoung rolled his eyes again. "But he's based in Gwangju and spends most of his time traveling, getting lectures. It's flowing lifestyle, allowing for adjustments as needed."

"This is what I meant when I said she memorized the book," Wooyoung told me. "She speaks in bullet points and catchphrases now."

"It's very good!" Eomma said. "In fact, Minhyuk is having additional copies sent for the both of you, along with the accompanying workbook. I think you'll really benefit from it."

"Suzy is eighteen, Soojung," Wooyoung said. "She doesn't need to worry about being a workaholic yet."

"The term is a workhole, and it's not just about that," she replied, as her phone beeped. Immediately, she grabbed it. Eyes on the screen, she was nonetheless able to say, "It's about the courage to go for what you want, not just what you think you need. Sometimes, we don't even know what that is."

"Well, I need to get home," Wooyoung replied, standing up. "We've got that meeting at the office first thing tomorrow with Amber about her tomboy-ish wedding."

"Tomboy-ish?" I asked. "How did I miss this?"

"It's a recent development," Eomma said. "Apparently she decided a couple of weeks ago she wants a theme after all. So we're calling the boy band, Day6, and hiring an MC, Eric Nam."

"Wow," I said, regretting for a second I'd decided to sit it out. "Sounds interesting."

"She wanted to have animals, too, but that's harder to pull together permit-wise," Wooyoung said, taking his bag. "Also, liability. Maybe Sehun can bring that dog of his and we'll pretend?"

"He's not ferocious," Eomma said. "But what is she expecting on such short  notice?"

I had a flash of Vivi, his snout and brows, the way his tail thumped hard against whatever was nearby whenever Sehun appeared. True love, that was, instant in the second he was rescued and we carried him away. As I thought this, I felt Wooyoung looking at me again, and wondered if my face had yet again changed. But this time, he said nothing.

It wasn't until later that night, when he was gone and eomma had went to her room with her highlighted copy of Workholes: How to be the Person You Want to Be and Do the Job You Love that I realized in the hours we spent together I'd never even mentioned the news of my own love life, and Mark. This didn't really mean anything: we'd talked about about their trip, with me leaning over their respective phones to look at pictures (Wooyoung: scenery, food, and landscapes; Eomma: herself in front of landscapes and scenery, with Minhyuk). And anyway, the next morning during SBS Commentery, when she brought up my birthday, I said right away I was seeing someone that wanted to invite to the dinner she was hosting. In the weeks following, after Wooyoung worked up the nerve to invite Taecyeon, his meat friend, out for drinks (twice) and dinner (three times) he'd decided to bring him along as well. Now here we were, all of us paired off, planning to come together to celebrate, well, me. Things were surely different. But not totally: we were still doing it a day early, as a wedding rehearsal was booked for the actual date.

As for me, with free days, I'd been getting stuff for school, hanging out with Gayeon and the kids, and trying to get used to not being at work, which was harder than I'd expected. The first couple of days felt totally weird, sleeping in, eating bowls of cereal in front of dramas in my PJs, then reading until dinner. Then I'd finally drag myself into the shower so I could meet Mark, either alone or with his friends, for dinner or to hit the parties that were already starting. After a week or so, though, I was finding it harder to keep busy. Maybe I was more a workhole than I realized.

When it came to Mark, though, everything was easy. We already knew each other enough that there were no real surprises. Word had gotten around school after the Sanya High shooting about my relationship with Jongsuk. He'd never mentioned it then, but the subject had come up a couple of time we've been together - that was part of our story, too, the events that came before - and just as easily been discussed before moving on. That was the difference, with a person you knew and one you didn't: I couldn't have kept that secret from Mark even if i wanted to.

But these were thoughts that only came in the middle of the night, when I allowed myself to retrace that Saturday of Jiyho and Suho's wedding, going over each moment for clues of how, in some way I'd savored my night with Jongsuk, everything perfect from start to finish. With this, I could see nothing but the places where I could or should have done something else, all the way up to that moment on the dance floor, when everything had gotten to be too much and I'd chosen to run. What had I been thinking, in that moment? Even now as I replayed it, I wasn't sure. It was like Jongsuk suddenly conjured was what it took to make it finally clear that Sehun and I were already too messy and strange to ever be anything else.

What I had with Mark, was neat and tidy, easy. I saw it now, as we started walking across the parking lot, away from Sooji's Cafe, toward his car so he could go to work. It was the way we were reflected in the glass of the stationery store, his hand holding mine, how we walked in sync, not rushing or dragging, just right. Because of all those pictures, I knew just how we appeared. A good-looking boy, tall in jeans and a hoodie; a girl wearing a dress and sandals, dark hair in a messy bun, sunglasses on the top of her head. When the reflection stopped, it seemed odd to me that we didn't, as well.