“You’re sitting in my spot.”

                I looked up, and there he stood, chomping on an apple.

                “Where’ve you been?” I asked as I got to my feet, brushing the loose grass off my pants.  I didn’t mean to sound so upset, but I suppose I couldn’t help it.  I had finally met him and I couldn’t just sit around waiting for him all the time anymore.

                He slowed his chewing, blinking at me confusedly.  “Home?  Why, where else would I—”  I watched as the gears turned in his brain.  “Were you waiting for me?”

              With a sudden flush of embarrassment, I looked away, clearing my throat.  “No, of course not.  Why would I do that?”

                “Well, you’ve been watching me for a while now.  You must know this is when I come here.”

                I cleared my throat again, letting out a choke of laughter.  “You make me sound like a e.”

                He didn’t say anything for a long time and continued to chew until he was at the core of the fruit, and he threw it onto the grass, wiping his fingers on his thighs.  “Aren’t you?”  He seated himself on the ground, shrugging his backpack off to take out his sketchbook.

                “I’m only nineteen and you’re not even a little boy.”  I pointed at the rotting apple core dumbly.  “That’s littering, by the way.”

                I winced at his laughter, Chanyeol’s first “flaw”; there was something strange about it—too joyful for my taste (although I would learn to love it with time).  “Loosen up, buddy.  It’ll decompose.”  He took a piece of charcoal between his fingers and glanced up at the tree, his hand sweeping fluidly across a fresh page.

                I sighed and took a seat beside him.  “What are you drawing?”

                “The sky.”

                “But the sky is over there.”  I motioned my head to the space behind him.

                He stopped sketching and stared at me.  “Do you know what sarcasm is?  I’m drawing the tree.”

                “Why?  It’s just a tree.  I’ve seen you sketch it every day.  Why don’t you draw the pond?  It’s right there.”

                “First off, it’s not ‘just a tree’; it’s a weeping willow.  Secondly, I don’t want to draw the pond.  It’s just part of the background.”

                “Well, what’s so special about it?”

                “Don’t you have homework to do or something?”

                “I finished.”  I was bugging him, I knew it, but I didn’t know how to stop myself, and for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him.

                “Of course you did.”  He began sketching again.  “What do you do other than go to school and watch me?”

                “Dance.”

                He laughed that big laugh of his again.  “So you do understand what sarcasm is.”

                “No, I really dance.”  I really did.

                “But,” he took a glimpse at me, “you’re so… tall.  And gangly.”

                “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent dancer.”

                He gave me a skeptical once-over.  “Yeah, okay.”

                “I still don’t understand what’s so special about this tree.”

                With a slightly exasperated exhale, he closed his sketchbook.  “Do you dance better when people yap in the background?”

                “No—I—no, not really.”

                He packed his things back into his bag and stood up.  “I’ll see you around.”  A small wave and tight smile and he was off.

                I jumped to my feet, mildly panicking.  “Wait!”  He turned a bit, a questioning look on his face.  “Would you maybe sometime want to go out?”

                “What?”

                “You know, like, on a date.”

                “What?”

                “Forget it.”  I began walking in the opposite direction, but he caught up to me and grabbed my elbow.

                “No, wait, you just caught me off guard.  Do you—do you like me or something?”

                I raised an eyebrow.  “I watch you.  Every day.  Honestly, how much more obvious can it get?”

                He grinned.  “Okay.”

                “Okay?”

                “I’ll go on a date with you.  Meet me here tomorrow, same time.”

                And with that, the real story begins.