"What!"

     "I know," I say lying upside down on Jeongyeon’s bed. I couldn’t wait to gather and share the news with them after school. I didn’t want to text— obviously, this is a momentous occasion and deserves so much more fanfare, plus we lucked out with Jeong being home for the week. You don't waste precious opportunities. I made us come right over before a single word was uttered. Chaeng will just have to hear it when she gets out of her club.

     "What!” Jihyo repeats with her bag drooping off her shoulder. She’s been standing in the doorway for the past five minutes in the same position since I dropped the news at their feet like a ing grenade. Seriously, for the first few seconds, they both were too stunned to speak, and Jihyo still couldn’t move. 

     That's what she gets for underestimating me. When we met up after school, she was all, “What the hell are you so smiley about?” and “Seriously, Nayeon are you so thirsty for drama in your life?” Well, guess what Park, my life is a movie and my co-star makes it one for the books.

     I roll over to my front and hug one of Jeongyeon’s pillows to my chest, giggling like the schoolgirl I am, and if I don't feel ten times as giddy.

     "I must have misunderstood something,” Jeong says, theatrically clearing out her ear. “Tell us again.”

     I sigh wistfully and sit up. “Look, I've already told you guys twice. She said she’d go out with me.”

     "What!”

     "Jihyo, please. Contribute something else,” Jeong asserts getting up and taking Jihyo’s bag, tossing it in the corner with mine, and sitting her down in her normal chair.

     "What!” is her final response before Jeongyeon smacks her upside the head, and even then she still looks a little bit dazed as the conversation continues. She doesn’t even protest the abuse. It is seriously the funniest thing I’ve seen in forever. I can’t believe the joke isn’t on me for once.

     "Guys, I’ve done it. I’ve finally ascended,” I say falling back into the bed. Life really is… a gift. The Gift. What a time to be—

     "It was probably just a pity response. Don’t let this go to you’re head," I peek up to look at the culprit, and yeah, Jeong is looking back at me with a measured stare, and I really do have the worst friends. They can’t even be with me in this time of triumph. Well, screw them.

     "Ha, shows what you know,” I say, shooting up to glare at my number one hater. “She was practically begging me to ask her out. I wasn’t even going to do it in the first place.” Which is kinda true in a twisty roundabout way. But it’s not like they know the story to be able to contradict anything I say.

     "Oh good, you’re finally spewing the crazy that I know is a lie,” Jihyo jumps in with a sigh of relief, and my eye ticks. 

     Or not.

     "You know what, that's what happened, and you guys for not believing me. I mean is it so hard to take my word for it? Why would I lie about something like this? It is too easy to prove.”

     "So you’re telling me if I asked; Momo would admit that she begged you to ask her out?” Jihyo gives me a pointed look seemingly completely having snapped out of her trance. Shame.

     I drop eye contact first and my silence is telling, but dammit that’s not fair. Clearing my throat, I clarify, “She. Said. Yes. We’re going out this Saturday… I mean she could always stand me up, but..” I break off less sure of myself now. Honestly, who needs enemies?

     "You’re right Nayeon we should have more faith in you. Except you always give us reasons for the opposite,” Jeongyeon says with a shrug.

     "Why? Why can’t you just let me have this? I was so excited to tell you guys and you’re ruining it,” I whine rolling over on my stomach. I kick my legs out and flail my arms, messing up Jeongyeon’s sheets and throwing her pillows off the bed. Yes, I am a 17-year-old throwing a tantrum. 

     And.

     I stay there wailing and carrying on until Jeongyeon had to get up to physically restrain me, but she brought this on herself. “Okay, Nayeon, chill. God, how old are you?”

     "Seriously, how are you not embarrassed,” Jihyo tsks in her corner.

     "Keep it up and I’m bringing this over to you,” I growl, wishing my eyes could shoot lasers.

     "I’m good thanks,” she snarks back, and that is my breaking point. 

     "You know it wouldn’t kill you to be supportive,” I say shoving Jeongyeon off and getting to my feet. “This was supposed to be fun. You were supposed to be helpful.”

     "And how were we supposed to help?” Jeong says returning to her seat.

     "I don't know— give me some advice so I don't make a fool out of myself.”

     "Like that’s not going to happen anyway,” Jihyo says under her breath. I ignore her and continue.

     "Help me make decisions. I still need to plan this thing out. I don’t even know what we’ll be doing. She said she wants to eat, but we can literally do that anywhere. Not to mention I haven’t even thought about the most important stuff like: What do I wear? What do I say? How should I act? What is appropriate small talk? Are there formalities we should discuss beforehand? What if I see her again before Saturday? Oh God, how will she get the details if I don’t? Should I leave them in her mailbox or send them through a mutual friend? Is that weird?”

     "First of all, calm down. And, yes. Did she not give you her number?” 

     I pause and realize Jeongyeon’s right. I can just text or call Momo and let her know what we’re doing when I figure that out. I let out an exhausted huff and flop back on the bed. I probably could have just shown them Momo’s number as proof, to begin with— At least Jeong has finally decided to cooperate. 

     "We haven’t even confirmed if you are even going out with her. There still could be a misunderstanding somewhere,” Jeongyeon continues, turning to her desk and opening her computer. “Let’s just start with looking up signs of having been misled into thinking you’ve got a date.”

     "I hate you.”

~~~

      Nervous is the least of what I feel while I wait for Momo in front of my mom’s friend’s antiquity boutique. I thought about calling the whole thing off like ten times since I left my house alone this afternoon. Not to say anything of the times when I actually picked up my phone to follow through earlier in the week. Yet, I held out. Pushed back my fears long enough to get to this point, and here I am. Struggling not to hurl on my shoes.

     I got here thirty minutes early and have been going in and out of the store, unsure whether I should wait for Momo inside or on the sidewalk. Ms. Gong keeps giving me long looks, but luckily she’s been relatively occupied and has not been able to confront me about my behavior.

     The closer the time gets to our meet-up the more anxious I get. She’s not coming. This was stupid. Of course, she stood me up. I should have just given her an out. At least then I could have saved face. These thoughts are explosive in my head; I get tunnel vision from the impact of their possibilities. I turn to go back into the store before I have a full-blown freak out right here on the street. As I reach for the door handle, there's a tap on my shoulder. I jump and start to look around, but my head motion is stopped by a finger poking into my cheek. 

     I was starting to get used to that smirk, but I never thought that I could feel relieved from the tumble in my stomach it caused. 

     I try not to gawk at the fact that she actually showed up, but my mind is still reeling from thinking she’d bailed. So, I end up openly staring at her like she was some deity, blessing me with her presence— which isn’t too far off for me. 

     "I don’t need to go over how to greet each other again, do I?” Momo asks. My heart stutters in my chest at the lilt in her voice. I know she’s making fun of me, but does she have to be so pretty while doing it? Taking this moment to check out her aesthetic, I realize she actually came here to go out with me. She looks like that and she’s going on a date with me. I allow myself a second to feel self-conscious before I reign it in. I want today to be different. I even practiced affirming my worth and controlling my doubts so I didn’t sike myself out. 

     I take a deep breath, but my voice still shakes when I say, “Hi, Momo.” 

     "Hey, Nayeon,” she says with a full smile, and I question my mental state when I told myself I could do this. When I don’t say anything else, Momo lifts a questioning brow. “So…,” she says turning to the boutique. “What are we doing here?”

     I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I think, squeezing my hands into fists. When Momo looks back at me, I fight the urge to run. “I thought we could spend some time here and then go get something to eat…,” I say. “If that’s okay… or we could go somewhere else…”

“No, here’s good. But... where is here exactly.”

     "This shop is owned by a family friend,” I begin, pushing in the door. The sound of the chimes brings a calming familiarity that eases some of the tension in my shoulders. “I haven’t been here in a while, but there are some pretty cool things that pass through.” I take Momo toward the vintage writing desks in the back, away from the counter and Ms. Gong’s prying eyes. We go through the drawers and cabinets looking for any left behind secrets. We walk on through the aisles and I tell Momo about the pieces I remember. Mostly we read the descriptions that are available and take our time looking at the art and collectibles. This was one of my favorite pastimes; I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it. 

     I breathe a little easier every time I look over and see that Momo seems to be having a good time too. “Some of these even go to museums,” I mention as we stop in front of a glass cabinet of fine china. 

     "Seriously?” Momo asks. 

     I shrug leaning closer to the glass. “If it’s rare enough.”

     We pass in view of the front counter and I catch Ms. Gong’s eye over a customer’s shoulder. I could feel her gaze like a constant weight tracking us as we walk around. I had been doing my best to ignore her this long and for good reason. When we make eye contact, she points at Momo and mouths, ‘She’s cute.’ At least Momo’s back is to her so she can’t see the mortifying situation, but I can’t keep the look of ‘please kill me now’ off my face, and of course, Momo catches it. She raises an eyebrow in question, but I interrupt her before she can say anything. 

     "Hey look, these violins here… You can tell by how wide the down of the grain are that the wood is pretty old. That means it’s more breathable and would have a fuller sound when you play it.” I say absently, checking to make sure Ms. Gong’s attention is once again occupied. I don’t even realize my mistake.

     "You can play the violin?” Momo asks. The look of surprise on her face returns my focus to the moment and I really wish we were over by the figurines.

     "Ye-yeah,” I say, the back of my neck heating. I face Momo and start backing away from the display, but she stays put. “I wanted to go pro when I was a kid, but there was an… accident,” I give her my back, then, but Momo grabs my arm to stop me. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

     "Come on, was it bad?”

     "No, it was embarrassing.”

     "Now you have to tell me,” she says pulling me closer. My heart spikes and I look away from her.

     "I'd really rather not. I mean, haven’t I embarrassed myself enough in front of you?”

     I’m pretty sure Momo is trying to kill me when she gives me that gorgeous smirk of hers; her eyes dance with a playfulness that puts me on edge. I turn away quickly placing all of my focus on the instruments. “You can't have all my secrets you know,” I say clearing my throat.

     "You know how to keep a secret?” Momo chuckles, releasing my arm. That one stings a bit, but she’s not wrong. At least, she wouldn't know otherwise from how I have been acting around her.

     When she prompts me, I start hesitantly, “Well, when I was 12 I…”

     "You…”

     "During one of my competitions, I set my violin outside on the ground to use the bathroom.”

     She giggles like my life’s horrors were the funniest thing she'd ever heard and I have barely even started telling the story. “How is that funny,” I demand.

     She shakes her head and shoos me on to continue. I roll my eyes.

     "Well, I went back for it then went to take a seat inside and I didn't notice a thing until it was my turn and…” 

     "And…”

     "Okay, can you not look so excited,” I point at her and this time she rolls her eyes.

     "Just tell me what happened.”

     I scowl at her before continuing. “When I got up there and rested on the chin rest, I heard a kind of buzzing. I just thought it was a tech issue or something so I wasn’t worried but… but halfway into my opening a huge grasshopper jumped out and started attacking me. It—”

     Momo burst out laughing. At first, I was shocked as I watched her carry on, leaning over at the waist and clutching her stomach. Now I am annoyed. I hadn’t thought about this in years, and I barely talked about it after the fact. It was the greatest shame of my life up until I started traning my thoughts to Momo, and I never wanted to revisit it. Ever. Yet somehow, here I am telling my long-time crush about something that scarred me for life.

     "It's not funny, seriously. I hurled my violin into the first row. It smacked a judge in the face. He needed stitches and I was just on stage being terrorized.” With each word, her laughter gets more hysterical; her knees almost touched the ground.

     "You're the worst,” I say, crossing my arms. I can’t believe I am getting the same treatment from Momo as I would from Jihyo. How does that even work? I swear I can hear her little quips and taunts in Momo’s laughter, and it is bugging me. Unbelievable.

     Momo regains her breath and straitens. There’s joy dancing in her eyes and an innocence to her smile that spins me. Suddenly I’m the one who couldn't breathe.

     I clear my throat, trying to move the conversation along. “Anyway, I haven’t been able to hold one since.” 

     "Really?” She says, laughter still in her voice.

     "I’m serious, I can barely look at things. I just got caught up wanting to impress you with my knowledge of antiquities.” That gets a chuckle out of her.

     Momo lifts a violin from its holder and I actually flinch— which she doesn’t notice, thank God. She holds it up to her head and grabs a bow to try sawing out a note. The screech of the strings makes us wince, but she simply chuckles and tries again. The noise is truly unbearable and I take it from her without thought. There's a tingling under my skin where I touch the wood but it's bearable.

     "How about we spare the customers that kind of torture today, huh?” I joke. “Ms. Gong still needs business.” Momo smacks my shoulder playfully and laughs.

     I smile to myself, satisfied with the result of this trip; that is until I start to return the violin to its place and Momo says the two words that make my heart drop. 

     "Show me.”

     I hesitate too long caught between a long time fear and wanting to make a good impression, but Momo catches on to my reservation and decides to throw me a line. Or an anchor depending on how you look at it. She grabs the violin from me then turns around and backs up into my chest, wrapping the hand I’m holding the bow in around her shoulder. I freeze, can't even breathe for fear any kind of motion will rip me out of this alternate reality. If ever there were a time to thank God that I’m not a dude…

     Momo chuckles to herself then says, “Show me how to play.” For some reason, the image of that provocative smirk pops into my head, and I am sure she has it on right now.

     I let out a shaky breath and then hand her the bow. I help her line the instrument up to her neck and place her fingers over the strings for the easiest note to play. When everything is lined up, we start bowing a simple melody.

     The motion and sound take me back, it's hard not to get swept up in the moment, but I can't do much with Momo’s chord hand so I switch up the bowing pattern; it's still a beautiful sound and when I drop my hands, Momo turns to face me. The look of amazement on her face fills me with smug satisfaction that I actually manage to keep off my face, but my chest swells with confidence. The mission to impress Momo on our date is a success. To those who thought the idea of bringing her to Ms. Gong’s shop was lame, and that Momo would be bored the whole time: it! And by those, I obviously mean Yoo Jeongyeon.

     We walk to a nearby cafe and when I hold open the door for Momo, I swear she starts buzzing with excitement. Seriously, I didn’t think she’d get so happy over the prospect of food. Maybe she’s hungry. Should I have made reservations at a restaurant? I ask her as much, but she reassures me that here is fine. 

     We sit and place our orders. Momo gets a big lunch and we eat and chat quietly to ourselves. This day has been like something out of a fantasy. I can barely believe it worked out so well; that I did not say or do anything to it up. The conversations take natural progressions and I am finally comfortable in her presence. There’s a budding hope that maybe this could be a… thing. Not like a thing-thing, maybe we could be friends. I don’t want to jinx it.

     Somehow we end up talking about opportunities and I make an off-handed comment that I don’t think twice about. I was only ribbing off of what she’d said, but just like that, there is a shift in the mood. One that ends the bubbly feeling from a moment ago.

     "To thank god that you're not a dude,” Momo says with that aggravating smirk, a knowing look in her eyes.

     I’m confused for a second before realization slaps me across the face. “Holy .”

     Momo just laughs it off, “It's fine, Nayeon. It was funny. Besides,” She takes a sip from her drink. “I figure it's just one of your character traits at this point.”

     "It’s not like that,” I stutter out, nearly panicking; fumbling for a decent excuse. Momo just cuts me off.

     "It’s not like you're the first person to have those thoughts. You're not even the first to say them out loud.” She pauses, giving me a thoughtful look. "Though you are the only one who didn’t mean to say it or make such a public spectacle of it. But it's fine, I’m used to it by now.” Her tone is unbothered and light, but my heart constricts her laissez-faire outlook on the whole situation.

     "If you think that, then… doesn't it hurt when people ask you out,” I ask tentatively. This topic is suddenly heavier than I was expecting.

     "I'm not really into anyone so it's not that big a deal.”

     "That's kind of mean, don't you think?”

     "I could understand if their feelings were genuine or something, but the people who ask me out don't typically do it with the right intentions.” I don't let that dig into me, after all, I didn’t really have any intentions after today, I figured this was more of a free pass. A one-time trip to heaven before I was cast back to the commoners. But how does she not take any offense to this?

     "Doesn't that bother you? Why not just turn them down?”

     "And say no to free food,” Momo says with a little sass, throwing a fry into . “Look if people want to feed me because they think they'll get something in return, that's on them. I make no promises.”

     What happens after that is a blur. We split ways amicably, but don’t make any plans to do it again. Honestly, I was too numb in that moment to worry about the details. But the longer the night goes on, the more it weighs on my mind.

      I toss and turn all night thinking about our last conversation before we said goodbye. I think about that one genuine smile she gave me after I made her laugh. I might not have known any more than the surface when I asked Momo out, but the time we spent together today brought back that feeling of having known her forever; it just felt right. But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t tell her that I wasn’t one of those people with bad intentions; that I actually care. I have to clear up this misunderstanding. At that moment, I decide to do this right. I’ll ask Momo to be my girlfriend from the start, and make it clear that the only thing I want is to be with her. That I’ll be 100% emotionally invested, and we can go from whatever pace she sets. I’ll do right by her. If she gives me a chance, that is.

~~~