“Just go talk to him already.”

I blinked, my head turning back to my friend, cheeks already heating up at being caught. “Hmm? Who?”

Jihyun narrowed her eyes at me. “Who do you take me for, Kang Ryeo Won? You’ve been staring at Book Guy for the past ten minutes. With your mouth open, might I add?”

“Was not,” I muttered out a quick denial, before furiously moving my pencil across my sketchbook as if I had been deeply engrossed in my work and not staring across the café at the man we’d come to nickname ‘Book Guy’.

He was, as he often did, sitting alone in front of the tall glass windows, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him as he buried his nose in yet another book. I came to this café often because it was near my apartment, and he did too. He was a friend of the owner, Im Jae Bum; I could tell from the way the latter often sat down and chatted with him when there weren’t too many customers. We saw each other so frequently that sometimes, we would smile at each other politely when our paths crossed, but that was the extent of our acquaintance. We never spoke or exchanged names, hence the nickname. Once in a while, Jihyun would meet me here and each time, if Book Guy was here, she’d tease me mercilessly and try to goad me into talking to him. It’d never worked before, and it was definitely not going to work today.

“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of,” Jihyun said, not buying my words. “Aren’t you a little too old to be crushing on a cute guy from afar?”

“I’m not crushing on him,” I refuted, glancing up at her. “And stop staring at him, or he’ll know we’re talking about him.”

“Good,” Jihyun stated. “It’s about time someone did something about this suffocating situation.”

 

“For god’s sake, just go talk to her already.”

Jinyoung turned, startled at the voice. He hadn’t even noticed that Jaebum had sat down across from him at the table. He blinked, putting down his book and clearing his throat. “Talk to who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Jaebum said. “You’ve been staring at Sketchbook Girl for the past ten minutes. With hearts in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jinyoung denied, flushing. He took a hurried sip of his coffee, before wincing at how hot it was. “What the hell do you make your coffee with? Volcanic lava?”

“Hellfire,” Jaebum deadpanned. “Because you’re a goddamn liar. Ever since she started coming here, you’ve been coming here twice as often. When are you going to stop looking at her from afar and finally talk to her?”

“I…” Jinyoung opened his mouth to argue, but he glanced across the café again at Sketchbook Girl and he felt his words die. He did like her, didn’t he? He liked how she always looked so engrossed in her work, her pencil flying across paper. He liked her oversized sweaters and how her long brown hair tumbled down her back in waves. He liked how she’d absent-mindedly twirl her pencil between long, slender fingers, and how she sometimes scrunched her nose up when she was stressed. He sighed, knowing it was pointless to lie to his best friend. “I’m just not ready to date again, alright?”

“And when will you be?” Jaebum asked point-blank. “It’s been years, Jinyoung. You haven’t even looked at another girl all this time. Isn’t it time to move on?”

“It’s not about moving on,” Jinyoung said. “You know things aren’t that easy for me. And besides, I have other priorities. Dating is just too much effort.”

“She doesn’t look like a very high-maintenance girl to me,” Jaebum pointed out. “I’m sure she’ll be cool, you know, if you guys end up dating.”

“Stop staring at her, or she’ll know we’re talking about her,” Jinyoung hissed at his friend. “And anyway, how do you even know what would be cool with her? You don’t even know her name.”

Jaebum snorted. “Kang Ryeo Won.”

“Huh?”

“Kang Ryeo Won,” Jaebum repeated. “I know her name. She pays with her credit card.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes at his friend’s smug grin, although internally, he was thinking that her name suited her. It was unique and pretty, just like her. “Good for you.”

“Now, make your move, stupid. If you won’t, I will.”

 

“I’m not asking him out,” I said firmly. “I’m done with dating, remember?”

“Okay, so you’ve had really ty luck with men,” Jihyun admitted. “But take a good look at this guy! He isn’t like one of those artsy, broody, emotionally-damaged kind that you seem to have a knack for choosing. He’s the serious intellectual type – I mean, who even reads actual books now? And most importantly, he looks like he actually has a job.”

“Thanks for that glowing review of my life choices,” I scowled. “It’s not like I have any time to date anyway. Did you forget that I have that showcase coming up?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “You took leave from work, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” Jihyun assured me. “Do you even have any idea how many favors I cashed in at work to have a Saturday night off?”

“You owe me,” I stated. “You swore you were coming to my last two shows and both times, you bailed at the last minute.”

Jihyun smiled sheepishly. “I promise I won’t this time. But, I can look at your work in your studio. Why do you need me to be there among all those stuffy rich people when you know I stick out like a sore thumb?”

“Well, I stick out too, and I need you there for moral support! Also…”

“Excuse me.”

I trailed off mid-sentence to see Jaebum standing beside our table. I inclined my head in greeting. “Yes?”

Jihyun tried to wave him away when he started to place a plate with a slice of cake on it on our table. “Oh no, we didn’t order any…”

“This is from the gentleman over at that table,” Jaebum said with a smile. “It’s already paid for.” He set down some cutlery on the table before picking a napkin up from his tray. Instead of putting it down on the table, however, he handed it straight to me. “Enjoy.”

I could only blink in confusion as Jihyun started squealing in excitement. I looked down at the napkin in my hand. There was some writing on it, scribbled hastily with a ballpoint pen.

A row of numbers, with two words above it: Jin Young.

 

That night, I lay in bed, holding that napkin. My eyes trailed towards my phone, sitting on the bed beside me.

Should I…?

I traced a finger lightly over the letters, as if I were worried that they might disappear. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. On one hand, I was slightly annoyed that he’d placed so much power in my hands by having me be the one to make the decision whether to make contact. On the other hand, hadn’t he already made the first move? Although, it wasn’t something I’d imagined a person like him to do, scribbling his number on a napkin to ask a girl out. He looked like much more of a gentleman, like the kind that would ask politely, face-to-face.

Or maybe not.

What did I know? Up until this afternoon, I hadn’t even known his name.

Jinyoung.

My eyes glided over the name, a silly smile lifting the corners of my lips. What a beautiful name. Elegant and refined, just like him. The image of his face, his bright, doe-like eyes and shy smile, floated into my mind.

I’ll do it.

It was just a friendly gesture, right? I ought to at least thank him for the cake. It was just polite. No biggie.

I grabbed my phone before I could change my mind. I was about to give him a call when I caught sight of the time. It was almost 11 at night. Wasn’t it too late to call? I hesitated. Maybe I’ll drop him a text instead. Determinedly, I opened up a new chat window, typing his number in. I quickly typed in a message, and then deleted it just as quickly. Chewing on my lip, I started crafting another line, which I also deleted. After doing this tango with myself four or five times, I finally had a decently worded message that I thought sounded just cool enough without sounding too desperate or disinterested.

Hello, is this Jinyoung? This is Ryeowon, the girl you gave your number to today. I just wanted to say thank you for the cake you sent over. It was delicious. Nice seeing you today too. J

Knowing that I would change my mind if I hesitated any longer, I quickly pressed the ‘send’ button. The moment I did that, I slammed my phone down onto the bed, kicking my feet under the blanket from all the nerves. Then, I composed myself again. Well, what’s done was done. There was no room for regret. Now, all I could do was wait.

And I waited. Minutes went by and my phone was silent. Just when I consoled myself with the thought that he might have been an early sleeper, my phone dinged with a message. It was pathetic how fast I jumped on it, eagerly opening up the message. I was just killing myself with the anticipation of what he would say, but when I read his message, my face fell.

Hi Ryeowon, there must be a mistake. I didn’t send over any cake. By the way, how did you get my number?

A million thoughts ran through my mind. Could I have made a mistake? Was it not him? Did I get the wrong number? I checked the napkin again. No, there was no mistake. I had texted the correct number. I quickly fired back a reply.

Are you Jinyoung? The one who always sits by the window at Jus Coffee, reading a book? Jaebum brought some cake to my table and gave me your number on a napkin, saying it was from you.

The next message came a lot quicker.

Yes, that’s me. I’m assuming you’re the one who’s always sitting near the plant, drawing in your sketchbook? I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid Jaebum was up to some mischief. I never asked him to do either of those things. I’m sorry to have caused you to misunderstand.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment at that. So it was a practical joke? I didn’t know Jaebum very well, so I had no idea why he would do such a thing. Perhaps it had been well-meaning, like how Jihyun was always trying to set me up with guys. Oh well. From his messages, it didn’t seem as if Jinyoung was very interested, but I’d taken my shot, so at least, Jihyun wouldn’t bug me about it any further.

Ah, I see. There’s no need to be sorry, since I got free food out of it. Don’t worry, I understand. I also have a friend who’s always trying to get me to date someone. Sorry to bother you so late. Have a good night!

I put aside my phone, sighing. It was a long shot anyway. At least he was nice enough to say things plainly instead of leading me on. He was tons better than all the ty guys that I did end up dating. Still, I couldn’t help eagerly clicking on the next text message that came in.

Yes, isn’t that a real pain? I’m really sorry. Next time we run into each other at Jus Coffee, let me buy you cake for real as an apology. Have a good night. J

 

“Excuse me, Ryeowon…?”

I looked up from my laptop, brows creased in annoyance at the interruption. However, my features instantly relaxed when I saw who it was standing in front of me. “Oh… Jinyoung?”

He smiled as he held out a small plate. “I’m here to deliver my apology cake, as promised.”

“Oh, uh…” I straightened, scrambling to gather some of my papers so I could clear a space at my table. “You didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said pleasantly, setting down the plate. “Enjoy.”

My heart was pounding as I watched him talk. Technically, it wasn’t our first conversation, since we’d had one over text, but it was the first time we were speaking face-to-face, and it felt weird. I’d admired him from afar for so long that it felt as if a celebrity had stepped off the screen and was talking to me. I’d never heard his voice before, but it was exactly like how I imagined it – soft, gentle and refined, just the way he appeared.

I was so tongue-tied that it took him actually turning away for me to realize that I hadn’t said anything. “Hey, um… do you want to… maybe, um… sit here?”

Jinyoung paused, eyebrows raised. “Really? It’s alright, you look pretty busy and I don’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, internally cringing at how desperate I sounded. “I’m not that busy. Could probably use a break anyway.”

Unexpectedly, Jinyoung nodded. “Sure.” He pulled out the other chair at my table and sat down directly across me, setting down the book he’d brought with him today. Then, there was an awkward moment of silence as we just looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Thankfully, Jaebum broke the silence by choosing that moment to appear.

“Iced Americano for the gentleman,” he announced, setting down Jinyoung’s drink. Then, he placed a drink in front of you. “And a long black for the lady. Your usual.” He handed Jinyoung’s card to him, grinning. “I charged it to your card.”

Jinyoung snatched his card back with narrowed eyes. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” I said bemusedly, watching their interaction.

“Enjoy,” Jaebum said, bowing deeply before sidling away.

Jinyoung gestured to him. “He’s really annoying, isn’t he? I apologize for him.”

I chuckled. “He’s nice. You guys seem really close.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Yeah, well, we’ve known each other since high school. That’s a good…” His eyes rolled upwards as he counted in his head. “…fifteen years. Wow, we’re much older than I imagined.”

“That probably explains why he tried to set you up with me,” I quipped.

“And I’m really sorry about that,” Jinyoung said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I told him a million times that I wasn’t interested in entering a new relationship, but he went ahead and did it anyway. I hope it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, don’t worry, I totally understand,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “My friend does the exact same thing to me. I don’t know why she acts like singlehood is a disease. She doesn’t believe that people choose to be alone.”

“One good thing did come out of it, though,” Jinyoung pointed out, smiling shyly. “I’m sitting here, talking to you. I made a new friend.”

I nodded, smiling back. “Yeah, so did I. Now we can actually talk to each other instead of smiling awkwardly every time we see each other.”

“As long as I’m not disturbing you,” Jinyoung said. “You look like you’re doing something important.”

I made a face as I looked down at my order forms. “Yeah, well, it’s incredibly mundane stuff, really. I’m having this showcase this weekend, and there’s all this paperwork to get through. When people told me to chase my dreams and be an artist, nobody told me that I’d have argue with contractors over screws and light bulbs and how many millimeters my fishing lines have to be in order to prevent my paintings from crashing upon the heads of buyers that are going to pay next month’s rent.”

Jinyoung looked intrigued. “Ah, you’re an artist, then? No wonder I always see you drawing. Do you have to take care of all the logistics on your own, though? Can’t you hire someone else to do it?”

“I do have an agent,” I explained. “But trying to put together a whole event is just a lot of work. I’m painfully introverted, so he has to do all the bits that involve talking to people – inviting guests, finding buyers, gathering media, coordinating with the owners of the venue… In exchange, I take the less glamorous aspects of it. If I could actually get up there and mount the lights and paintings myself, I’d do it, but you know… Sorry, I’m boring you with details, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not,” Jinyoung assured me, shaking his head. “It’s sounds really interesting. I work as an editor in a publishing house, so all I do is sit around and look at words. Trust me, I’m not easy to bore.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You read for a living, and you still choose to do it in your free time?”

Jinyoung smiled sheepishly. “I really do love reading. In my job, I read a lot of seriously terrible writing. I feel like I need to read good writing whenever I can so that I can balance it out. And also, it helps me do some market research about what’s out there, and what people are reading.”

“So essentially, when you’re relaxing in a café, you’re actually still working,” I pointed out.

Jinyoung chuckled. “I need a life, don’t I?”

I shrugged. “I’m the last person to judge. I rarely do anything exciting.” Then, I had a thought. “Unless… Never mind, you wouldn’t be interested anyway.”

“No, please tell me,” Jinyoung said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m open to any suggestions you have.”

“You could come to my showcase.”

“This weekend?”

I nodded. “I mean, only if you’re interested. It’s just a small event in a gallery, and I’m displaying a series of paintings about the banality of life in a big city.” I started getting self-conscious. Why was I even inviting him to see my work? He was a complete stranger. I could sense myself rambling at some point, but like a train careening off its tracks, I couldn’t stop myself. “But it’s probably not your scene. Hell, it’s not even my scene. I just smile and nod and pretend to be some snooty, eccentric artist when in actuality, small talk terrifies me. I’ve been trying to get my friend Jihyun to come with me, but she keeps bailing on me at the last minute. In fact, I’m sure she’s going to send me a text any minute now and—”

“I’ll come.”

My train came to a screeching halt and for a moment, I could only stare blankly at him. “What?”

“I’ll come,” Jinyoung repeated, with his trademark smile that brought out the creases in the corners of his eyes. “I can be your company for the night. And it’s been a while since I went out to appreciate art. It’ll be fun.”

“Oh, I’ll, uh…” I looked around the table, flustered. “I’ll have my agent add your name to the guest list.”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow mischievously. “Really? Just like that? What if someone pretends to be me and tries to get in?”

“I’m not even famous,” I said with a laugh. “Nobody would be interested to crash my party. Seriously, you don’t have to come just to be nice. I’m sure you have better ways to spend a Saturday night.”

“I don’t,” Jinyoung assured me. “And I want to. I really want to see your work.” He smiled again, causing my heart to skip a beat. “I’ll see you on Saturday night, Ryeowon.”

 

Saturday rolled around really quickly. I spent the day on my feet (and sometimes even on my hands and knees) just trying to get everything in order for the opening that night. It was evening before I knew it, and my agent had to physically remove the tools from my hands and force me to take a shower and get changed. I managed to put on a slinky dress, apply some make-up and sweep my hair up into what I hoped was an understated by classy up-do, just as the first guests started arriving.

Well, here we go.

For the first hour or so, I was whirled around the gallery by my agent, where I smiled and greeted people while downing champagne to make the night go by easier. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was terrible at small talk. I mostly allowed my agent to lead the conversation, chiming in only when I was asked a question. Among the circles, I was known to be a real ice queen, but I supposed being an artist meant that no one really took offence to that. Most people just accepted that us ‘creative types’ had our own quirks and eccentricities, and that was something I was thankful for.

My name was all over the place, and the event was for me, to celebrate the work I’d just completed, but to be very honest, I was bored out of my mind. If I had it my way, I’d never have a showcase. Unfortunately, the reality of my work was that I needed people to buy my art in order to keep making art, and hence, I had to make it through these events. To make things worse, Jihyun had, expectedly, bailed at the last minute. Which was why I was exceptionally relieved when Jinyoung walked in through the door.

I hadn’t pegged him for an art person, but he looked like he belonged here. He was dressed in a black and white checked suit with a black t-shirt underneath, standing perfectly on the line between casual and dressy. He caught my eye and gave me a smile, which I returned, and gestured that he was going to walk around while I finished my conversation. I nodded, and waited for my agent to finish his spiel about how I’d gotten my inspiration for the piece we were looking at, an abstract piece titled ‘To: You’. He was going on and on about how it was about a lost lover (it wasn’t), and the buyers, a couple in their fifties, were lapping it up. I waited for him to stop talking, and for the couple to look at me with sympathetic eyes, the wife touching a hand to her heart, and to offer me their deepest condolences.

I finally managed to escape. I found Jinyoung standing in front of a painting, his hands in his pockets as he stared intently at the canvas. I snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and sidled up beside him. “May I offer you a drink, sir?”

He turned to me with a smile. “Thank you.” He gestured to the room. “I took a walk. Your work is beautiful. Although I’ll be very honest here – I don’t think I understand any of it.”

I clinked my glass with his. “Well, thank you for being honest. I didn’t make my art to be understood. Artists aren’t game masters setting puzzles to be decoded, you know?” I lowered my voice. “It’s part of the reason why I hate these things. Everyone’s trying to interpret my art and come up with some kind of ‘correct’ message, as if they aren’t just looking for something to class up their interior design.”

“An artist that hates it when people appreciate her work,” Jinyoung commented with a laugh. “That’s something new.”

“Well, they can appreciate it silently,” I pointed out. “Most people are just talking aloud because they want to appear smart and cultured. It’s as if they’re superior beings if they can ascribe some kind of meaning to my work or partake in ‘artspeak’, if you will. It’s awfully pretentious. If you listen closely, you’ll realize that they’re saying a lot without saying anything at all.”

“You sound like an expert,” Jinyoung said bemusedly.

“I am,” I agreed. I cocked my head with a smile. “Is that doubt I hear in your voice?”

Jinyoung chuckled. “I’m sure not everyone is that bad.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenged confidently. “Alright, let’s play a game. We walk around the gallery, and every time we hear someone say something pretentious, we drink.”

“Just to be clear, what constitutes ‘pretentious’?” Jinyoung asked.

“When someone calls my work ‘provocative’, for example,” I pointed out. “Or talk about how I’m trying to portray some kind of ‘sensibility’, or ‘inner conflict’. Or show some kind of ‘complexity’. Oh, and every time someone says something about the human condition, we drink twice.”

Jinyoung was laughing by this point. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious,” I answered. I grabbed his hand. “Alright, let’s go. I swear you’ll understand when you actually hear it.”

The rest of the night was actually a lot of fun. Jinyoung and I hovered around behind people, listening to them talk to each other about the works they were looking at. (To be fair, my agent was also going around trying to perpetuate all these cryptic messages because apparently things sold better if you had a story.) And tonight was turning out to be a bountiful night, because there were a lot more weird comments going around than usual. Jinyoung realized very quickly that he did recognize completely vapid artspeak when he heard it. Midway through the night, we added ‘sublime’ and ‘interwoven’ to our list. It was safe to say that by the end of the night, we were both light-headed and giggly from the effects of bull and too much champagne. At some point, we found a corner to hide in and just talked to each other. He was a fascinating person. He talked about his work, and his interests, and the books that he enjoyed. He had a way of speaking that was just so pleasing to listen to. I didn’t even realize that we were the last two people left until my agent came up to me.

“Ryeowon, good news…” he started, before realizing that I was holding on to Jinyoung’s arm to keep myself upright. “Are you okay?”

“Yeap!” I said chirpily. “What’s the good news?”

“We sold everything but one piece,” he said. “And it happens to be the one you said was your favorite.”

I turned to Jinyoung and scoffed. “See? I told you nobody really understands my art.”

We stood in front of the aforementioned painting, a piece titled ‘You Are’. It was by far the darkest piece in terms of color, and the only one on which I’d used black paints quite liberally, but in terms of the meaning that it held for me, this was the most hopeful and uplifting one. It depicted a dark room, with a window in the center of it, looking out towards a patch of sky. I tried to capture the sky at twilight, just before the sun set, which was why I used hues of purple, pink and orange.

“Tell me what you were thinking when you painted this,” Jinyoung said softly beside my ear.

“Nothing much, really,” I answered, staring at the painting. “This was the one piece that came really easily. I was struggling to find inspiration, and I was in a space where I was doubting everything that I had done. And I just looked out of the window, and suddenly, I just felt really lucky. Just to be able to have a job that I like, that affords me little luxuries like looking at the sky when I want to.”

“That’s beautiful,” Jinyoung said, looking straight at me. For a while, neither of us said anything. Then, he turned to my agent. “Do you still have room for one more buyer? I’ll take this piece.”

 

The last leg of the night was a little blurry to me. I remembered being light-headed and giddy with excitement when I left the gallery, waving away my agent, who’d offered to give me a ride. Somehow, I ended up taking a taxi with Jinyoung, and somehow, he’d insisted on walking me up to my apartment. Somehow, we ended up stuck outside my apartment door as I struggled to remember the passcode to open my door.

“, why isn’t this opening?” I grumbled as another obnoxious beep sounded, indicating that I’d keyed in the wrong code again.

“Is this even your house?” Jinyoung asked, laughing softly so he didn’t wake my neighbors. He looked up at the unit number above my door, reading it aloud. “Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is,” I insisted, jabbing random numbers now. “Do you think I’d not know my own address?”

“Well, I’d assume you would also know the passcode to your own door, but here we are.”

I glanced up from my attempt to crack the code to my front door. “Are you laughing at me?”

Jinyoung shook his head cutely, pursing his lips. “I most definitely am not.”

Okay, he’d definitely had too much to drink. And clearly, so had I. Why wasn’t the goddamn code working?

Jinyoung’s hand shot out, holding mine so I would stop pushing random numbers on the keypad. “Stop doing that. If you try too many times, it’ll think you’re a burglar and lock you out.” He shook with quiet laughter. “Or worse, your security company will be alerted and we’ll be arrested.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I whined. “We’re stuck out here anyway.”

“Just stop,” Jinyoung said, tugging me away from the front door and inadvertently closer to himself. “And think.”

“Think,” I repeated. We were standing so close to each other now that I could smell the musky, slightly spicy scent of his cologne. When I lifted my eyes, all I could see were his lips, tantalizingly within reach. He looked down, his eyes meeting mine, and I could see him stop breathing. He swallowed, and I could see that he was trying to clear the fog in his brain. For a moment, I thought he was going to release me and move away, but he didn’t. Then, in the next moment, it was clear that neither of us were thinking when the gap between us slowly disappeared, our lips meeting.

I was most definitely, certifiably out of my mind. Other than the fact that I barely knew the guy, he had very clearly friend-zoned me. And friends in the friend-zone didn’t make out with each other. None of that seemed to matter as he tangled his fingers in my hair, shaking it loose from the pins that held it up. His lips moved fervently against mine, with passion and longing that definitely was not supposed to exist between friends. I felt a light-headedness that had nothing to do with the alcohol. As he pressed me against the door, I slipped my hand under his blazer, delighted at the hard muscle that I felt beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt. His hips rolled against mine and a low, delicious groan left his lips. My hands slipped under his t-shirt as his tightened around my waist. Everything was too fast, and too much, yet not enough at the same time. Were we really doing this here, in the corridor outside my apartment?

A loud ringing sound rudely jerked us both out of the haze of lust. We jumped apart like two guilty teenagers, breathing hard. I looked away, trying to rearrange my hair and clothes as Jinyoung fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He glanced guiltily at me before stepping away to answer it.

“Hello?” he greeted, trying to catch his breath. “Yeah, I, uh…” He stopped to look at his watch. “I’m really sorry. I ended up staying later than I expected… Yeah, I’ll come over now. Sorry.”

I wiped my lips surreptitiously, willing my senses to return as I tried not to overhear him. Unfortunately, it was late and the hallway was quiet, so I heard every word despite him whispering. My sobriety was fast returning to me as the awkwardness set in. I turned away, trying my electronic lock again. The traitorous thing sounded with four successive chimes as the mechanism unlocked. I could have sworn I’d entered the same numbers the last ten times. Now, it looked like I’d gotten it wrong on purpose.

“Well, whaddya know?” I announced lamely, turning to Jinyoung. Neither of us could meet each other’s eyes now, and from the apologetic look on his face, I could tell that he regretted our transgression as much as I did. I would like to say that didn’t hurt me, but the truth was, it did, a little bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, although I wasn’t sure what for. “I have to go. You’re uh… You’re alright?”

“Well, yeah,” I answered, pointing to my open door. “You should go. To you know, whoever’s waiting for you.”

He looked embarrassed. “Right. Um, it’s not… Yeah. Well…”

“You got a little…” I gestured to the corner of his lips, where my lipstick had transferred. Maybe I was enjoying his discomfort a little. Not like he didn’t deserve it, for being so infuriatingly confusing and impossible to read.

“Right,” he said, quickly wiping his lips. He didn’t successfully get it all, but I didn’t tell him. He bowed, retreating. “Goodnight, Ryeowon.”

“Goodnight, Jinyoung.”

I slipped into my apartment without waiting for him to leave first. When the door was firmly shut behind me, I leaned against it, letting out a long exhale. What on earth had just happened?

---

 

[ picture credit: https://twitter.com/jy_spinoff/status/1103295323596713984 ]