8

To call Chanyeol leading a laggard me all the way across the cafeteria to his friends (and cutting the lunch line in the process, though I suppose attractive people get away with a lot) 'awkward' would be a stupid understatement. Instinct screams that we are attracting a substantial amount of attention and a quick once-over of the area confirms it. I keep my chin up out of simple courtesy but desperately avoid making actual eye contact with any human being in the vicinity. Jongin's characteristic piercing stare is, once again, not easing my nerves. And while Kim Jongdae had been amicable during our walk here, it was not enough for me to lower my guard down around him more than an inch. In fact, I can barely compose myself with Chanyeol's arm slung around my shoulders like we were brothers in a past life.

Someone calls me. I fumble with my cell phone.

“Johnny! You guys are dead meat.” I spin to not face the group before I whisper, my best at trying to keep the call confidential. A groan emits from the speaker.

“Yeah, we figured that out after we got literally dragged back into the classroom. Now we're waiting for our impending doom while you enjoy lunch with some cool cats.” I trust that he can sense my eye-roll from afar.

“Aren't you technically one, too, Mr. Foreign Swagger?” I jeer. Johnny snorts but is cut off by the sounds of shuffling and a familiar voice hissing out a warning. I'm hung up on.

I turn back around to meet a circle of inquiring gazes. With my despair tucked away, I say in a collected tone, “Sounds like they got kidnapped by the teacher. I guess they're not joining us.”

Chanyeol heaves a sigh that sounds suspiciously overdone and the others continue to look on confused for a second before the previous topic of conversation changes. It’s an expected talking point, brought up by an expected person—He’s a garrulous boy, according to others’ accounts, always ready to stir drama.

“So I’ve been curious for a while now, and Jo