“Where’s the red one…”, I say to myself, swishing around my pencil holder to find the appropriate colored Sharpie. The clinks of the markers hitting the sides of the porcelain cup is an oddly satisfying sound, and I purposely take a few more seconds continuing to do that. After a few circles, the red Sharpie has finally emerged, and I take it out, chuckling to myself that I am amused by just about anything.

 

But you couldn’t really blame me: it had been eight, long, grueling, lonely weeks of summer all by myself. My best friend, Jungkook, left two days after school ended to go to some soccer camp in Ulsan as a counselor. I’m assuming it’s been loads of fun, emphasis on assuming, because I haven’t heard anything from the guy since he left. I get it was a pretty cool opportunity to get, but damn, taking away phone privileges is insane.

 

If I’m struggling with our distance, I can’t even imagine him right now. That sounded a bit narcissistic, but he’d agree just as much.

 

Jungkook had been my best friend for a really, really long time, and also has had a crush on me for a really, really long time. We befriended each other in 1st grade after a scuffle over a crayon. We were practically inseparable since, and in third grade, he gave me a strawberry cupcake-scented Valentine’s Day scratch-off card and on the inside wrote: “Will U Be My GF? Circle Yes or No”.

 

Being the smartass I was, I circled “or”, because by that time, I was convinced that Jungkook was like the Patrick to my Spongebob, best as friends. And then we just left it at that.

 

Jungkook would poke fun at his crush sometimes, too, but we’d both laugh it off—it was normal to the both of us now.

 

I pop the cap off and mark a fat, red X on the calendar above my desk.

 

Sunday, August 7th, in the books. Tomorrow, August 8th, would be the beginning of senior year, and the first day I’d be seeing my best friend again. 12 hours to go, and I can’t ing wait.

 

“Seyoung!” I yell across my room, hoping that the sound is loud enough to travel through wall. “You got an extra face mask?”

 

I hear two feet plopping on the hardwood ground, presumably off from the bed, followed by the sound of a cabinet drawer opening. Within seconds, my sister is at my door, flinging the door open because knocking doesn’t exist between siblings, and heaves a 5-pack of cucumber Korean face masks on my bed.

 

“Keep them all. Take it as a parting gift,” Seyoung says and invites herself on my bed. Seyoung’s two years older than me; despite the small age difference, we honestly could not be more different. Seyoung goes to school abroad in the States: theatre at NYU, which she’ll be returning back to in two weeks, and it’s all entirely fitting because she’s always been the more creative one. With her look, she had fiery red hair, parted to the side, eyelash extensions that touched her cheeks each time she blinked, and a 5’5 toned, curvy body resulting from 4 years of high school volleyball.

 

“Thanks. Do you think if I put all five of them at once that it could make these eyebags nonexistent?” I say, tugging on the skin underneath my eye and taking a look in my vanity mirror.

 

“No, and don’t even try testing that out. These have some kind of gold in them, so make each one count!” My sister answers and lays down flat on my comforter and directly on top of the outfit I’ve laid out for tomorrow.

 

“Hey! You’re going to wrinkle my skirt,” I call out and hastily grab the outfit.

 

“Cherish your senior year, Seri-ah. You miss a week in high school and you can get caught up in a day, you miss a week in college and you have to sleep with a professor to get your grade up.”

 

“What the ?!” I squeal. “You’ve… done that?

 

“Yeah. Twice for the same class! Granted, it was a stupid core class that’s not even in my major, so thankfully I’ll never be seeing him again,” she answers, nonchalantly, and the casualness in her tone is beyond chilling. “Although next semester I’ll be taking my toughest yet, so I’ll probably have to resort to that if worse comes to worse.”

 

“Seyoung! What the hell!” I scream, but then immediately whisper in case my parents hear. “You just can’t sleep with professors for a good grade!”

 

“Why not?” She an eye and continues, “I did it in high school too for Economics! You know I’d always ask you for help in that class, it was never my strong suit.”

 

I look at my sister in actual disbelief, jaw now on the floor and my eyes as wide as they can humanly get. Who is this girl? Now, that’s another thing to add to our long list of differences: Seyoung, sleeps with professors for a passing grade. Seri, big, fat .

 

“Seri! Oh my gosh! I’m just joking!” Seyoung says between her cackles and pounds on my mattress as she’s catching her breath. “You actually believed me!”

 

“Are you ing serious!” I throw a random shirt at my feet towards her body, and she catches it in a fist. “Good. I honestly could not fathom that you were my sister for a second. you and your theatre background.”

 

“Damn, you’re right. I should put it to use and prank more people. Thanks for the tip, sis!”

 

“My pleasure. Next time you prank someone like that—please just make sure it’s not me. And like, record it if possible, I wanna see the reaction.” I say and rip off one packet of the face masks. I delicately place the white sheet on my skin, ensuring no inch is left untouched by the vitamin E toner.

 

When the mask is on in the right place, I tap the edges down to cling to my skin and hop on my phone to place a timer. I’m clicking on the Clock application when I get a ding! and a ribbon notification, and I yelp in surprise.

 

Jungkook

Hey bestie

 

“AHH! OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH.” I shout before I even realize it, and I blast my best friend’s phone with annoying strings of text.

 

Seri

YOU’RE BACKKKKKK

OH MY GOSH I MISED YOU SO MUCH

TELL ME ALL ABOUT CAMP!!

DID YOU MEET ANY KIDS THAT CHANGED YOUR LIFE?

DID YOU GET A LIFEGUARD BOD?

DID YOU DIE?

 

“What are you screaming about?!” My sister says from the bed, and I ignore her for the time being, cause right now, it’s only me, my best friend, and the little blue iMessage rectangles. We go back and forth for the next minute, and then I shout that Jungkook texted me back. Seyoung nods and fixates her attention back to scrolling on her phone.

 

Jungkook

I’m back! Missed you and your

Sass** That was a typo

Genuine typo. I meant sass

 

Seri

nice

Jungkook

Literally so sorry. Didn’t mean to put that

 

Seri

I dont care! tell me about camp!

 

Jungkook’s typing paragraph after paragraph starting from his first week at camp. He got assigned to a group of 2nd to 3rd graders, in which half were cute, adorable kids and the other half were pests, bugging him that they’d probably beat him in arm wrestle and that they could land more ‘chicks’ than Jungkook ever could.

 

He’s explaining this one story of when a kid ate wet dirt thinking it was Nutella, when all of a sudden, my sister screams an amplifying, “WHAT THE !”.

 

“Uh, are you okay?”

 

“Seri, are you okay?”

 

“What do you mean? I’m happy as can be. Face mask on, texting my best friend after two long months, though I’m not really sure why you’re still here.”

 

“One, you. And two…” Her voice trails off and motions for me to get on the bed beside her. “Seems like Jungkook no longer has that crush on you. Honestly, about damn time.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“He just posted his new girlfriend on Instagram. She’s pretty, although I think you have better hair. And you have freckles.”

 

“What? He has a girlfriend? Jungkook does not have a girlfriend,” I repeat; there’s no way. He’s liked me for so long. I glance to my phone, where Jungkook is relentlessly typing about the story and it doesn’t seem like he’s pausing anytime soon. And then, I just start laughing. “Wow… Seyoung, you got me good. Nice one!”

 

“I am not pranking you right now. Pull up your Instagram.”

 

“Stop, stop! The act is over—you’re busted. , could you imagine though? Jungkook having a girlfriend?”

 

“You sound like a crazy person! Look at my phone,” Seyoung hands me her phone, and it’s an Instagram picture Jungkook’s just posted from him at camp. He’s tanned with ruffled hair coming out the sides of his baseball cap. Super normal, but his arms do look a bit bigger than what I remember.

 

But next to him… his hand wrapped around her waist… is a girl. I pan to the caption, which writes: “No one else I’d rather yell at 8 year olds with ❤️”. I hurriedly rush to the comments, maybe this is just an uber friendly post. But nope: there are tons of comments—emojis galore, so I’m pretty sure it’s some of the camp kids—and they write about how they’re ‘the cutest couple of camp’ and a bunch of ‘I knew it all along!!’ comments.

 

.

 

My heart drops.

 

Why do I feel jealous? I’ve had him wrapped around my finger for eight years; I could’ve jumped on the opportunity several times over, but I just didn’t. I was comfortable with what we had, as friends, so I crushed on and talked to guys as we grew up, while his crush remained unwavered. This sounds cruel to admit, but I knew that at the end of the day, he’d still like me.

 

And now, my best friend has found someone else, after 8 years of an enduring crush that obviously wasn’t going anywhere. I should be over the moon for him.

 

But. why. do. I. feel. jealous?

 

“You okay?” My sister says, and it snaps me out of my thoughts.

 

“Uhm, I’m—just trying to process… this—He has a girlfriend?!” I stammer, my head going at 150 thoughts per second. “Jungkook has a girlfriend.”

 

“Yeah, Jungkook has a girlfriend. He has a girlfriend, and he no longer has a crush on you.” My sister repeats after me and then encases me into a hug. The whole setting makes me feel like I’m going through some sort of anxiety attack, but no, I’m just accepting the fact that Jungkook no longer likes me. “Aren’t you happy for him?”

 

No. No. No. No?

Why don’t I feel happy?

 

The timer of my face mask alarm goes off, and I angrily tap the screen to shut it up immediately.

 

“Uh, yeah, totally.”