As the teacher droned on, I absentmindedly doodled on the margin of my paper.  I’d stayed out late the night before shopping with my mother and then finishing homework that I could barely keep my eyes opened.  I drew a chibi character dozing with her head on a desk, little Zs making their way upward.  How I wish that were me right now!  But I was a good student and copied down the notes on the board, even though I couldn’t understand half of them.  I really needed to work on my Korean.  Seriously, this was getting quite pathetic.  How was I supposed to learn if I can’t read?!  I mentally face-palmed myself, a bitter look appearing on my face.  Someone nudged me and I looked over at Youngmin who had a concerned expression.

“You okay?” he mouthed silently.

I nodded, quickly returning my attention to my boring professor.  Did I have to have this kid in practically all of my classes?  Apparently.  Actually, I didn’t know if I liked or hated seeing Youngmin all of the time.  He was so cute, a complete pretty-boy, and totally not my type.  That is, if I had a type.  I didn’t usually bother with crushes.  Why like somebody when all that matters is love?  And why try to find love when all that you’re gonna get is pain?  Nope, not going there.  Besides, I don’t like Youngmin in that way.  And there was no way it would work out between us even if I did.

Cursing myself for these silly thoughts, I shook my head.  Youngmin gave me another concerned look but I ignored him.  Instead, I focused on drawing, tuning out the sleep-inducing lecture.  My mind wandered back to the dress I bought at that boutique.  Smiling, I attempted at drawing it from memory.  The gentle curve and flow of the tulle skirt, the intricate beading and embroidery along the sweetheart neckline appeared beneath the tip of my pencil.  From the dress I created a faceless girl, her hair done in cascading ringlets and a small tiara crowning her head.  Delicate heels (that scarily looked very similar to the horrid shoes I’d have to wear to the party) adorned the feet.  My mind blanked as I worked, not catching the frequent glances of a certain boy.  Nor did I notice the ringing of the bell signaling the end of class or the figure waiting next to me.

“Jin-ah,” the person poked my shoulder, breaking my concentration.  Startled, I whipped my head up.  Youngmin stood in front of me, his books already gathered in his arms.  No one else was in the room.  “The bell’s rung.  It’s time for our next class.”

“Oh, sorry,” I apologized as I grabbed my things.  “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Who else would have brought you out of your trance?” he laughed.  “What were you so focused on anyway?”

“Um,” I avoided eye-contact.  I didn’t want to tell him about my drawing.  What if he thought it was stupid?  I wasn’t that good and I was afraid he would laugh at my pathetic attempts.  “Just doodling,” which wasn’t a lie, I really was drawing randomly.

“Do you usually get like that when you doodle?”

“Sometimes,” I shrugged.  If my doodle turns into an actual picture.

“I see.”  The tone in his voice told me he knew I was holding something back.

As a reply, I stepped into the crowded hallway to our next class, English.  I breathed out a sigh of relief.  Finally, something I can do decently. 

Taking my seat, I took out the homework I’d completed.  Next to me, Youngmin was bent over his sheets, going over his work, rechecking his answers, redoing a few quickly before the teacher picked up the papers.  His paper was covered in messy eraser marks from so many uncertain corrections, and it was crumpled slightly as if he had gripped it tightly in frustration.  Exactly how my Korean homework looked.  Did Youngmin have trouble with English like I did with Korean?  Interesting…  Unable to help myself, I discreetly scanned his sheet.  I spotted several mistakes, despite the easy assignment. 

“You’ve done this wrong,” I pointed at his paper.  “One and four should be switched if you want the sentence to be grammatically correct.  And the tense of this verb is wrong, too.  It should be past tense, not present progressive.”

As fast as lightning, Youngmin erased those answers and corrected them.  They were the only ones I could help him with before our teacher passed by, collecting our work.  A shadow crossed Youngmin’s face as he stared longingly at the disappearing paper. 

Just as he had done to me, I nudged him.  He barely looked at me, but I mouthed his same question from the last class.  “You okay?”

He nodded, sullenly looking back at his desk like a dog with its tail between its legs.  I nudged him again.

“Don’t lie to me,” I mouthed when he looked at me again.  I gave him a stern look which he only chuckled weakly at.

“You know, you don’t do threatening very well,” he whispered, teasing.  My expression deepened into a scowl.  The boy chuckled again, ruffling my hair.

Making an annoyed noise in my throat, I turned away, focusing on the lesson.  When we started taking notes, I tore out a sheet of paper from my notebook, clumsily scribbling out a note in Korean.

What is the matter?

I folded up the note and slid it onto his desk.  I didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

Nothing

Liar.  Is it your English?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stiffen.  Bingo.  He didn’t do anything for a long time, just sat staring at the paper.  Finally, he slowly wrote out a response.

It doesn’t matter.  I’ll get the hang of it eventually

That kid, and he said I was stubborn.

I can help you.

His eyes widened.

You don’t have to

I waited for the end of class to answer.  He seemed edgy the entire period, fidgeting in his seat, glancing at the clock, sometimes at me.  Calmly, I took notes as if English were the most interesting subject in the world.  The bell rang and I was the first to stand up.  I walked past Youngmin, tossing the note onto his desk as I left for lunch.

My house, Friday after practice.  Don’t think you can get out of it ;P

I joined Ara Cha for lunch that day, happily listening to the conversation, only commenting when directly talked to.  Inevitably, the topic strayed to boys.

“Oh my goodness, Jeongmin-oppa is the hottest boy at this school!  Don’t you think he’s just gorgeous?” one girl, I think her name was Yoora, gushed, staring dreamy-eyed at the kingka table (the same table I’d at on Friday).  

“No way,” another girl (Sunhee?) objected.  “Minwoo-oppa is definitely the cutest.”

“I like Hyunseong-oppa!” a third girl whose name I actually remembered as Jessica injected.

Ara Cha smiled.  “Guess who Jin Haneul likes.” Three pairs of wide eyes stared back at me.

What?  I glared at Ara Cha.  You are so gonna get it.  She smiled innocently at me.

“Oh come on!  It’s not like it’s any secret!” she squealed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I answered stiffly.

The other girls around me giggled.  “Just tell us!  It’s not like we’re gonna run off and blab about it,” encouraged Jessica.

“I really don’t like anyone!” I held up my hands in defense.

“If you don’t tell them, I will~” Ara Cha threatened.

“You’ll have to tell me too then, ‘cause I have no idea who you are talking about!”

She giggled.  “Alright.”  She turned to the others at our table, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially.  “She likes Youngmin-oppa.”  The others gasped and then fell apart in a mess of giggles.  All of the heat in my body focused primarily on my entire face. 

“I-I do not!”  I denied.

“At least you’re not hooked on Kwangmin-oppa.  He’s already taken, which really is a shame,” Yoora said.  “Honestly, how did Hyesoo-ah do it?  I want to learn her secrets.”

“Why don’t you get a few pointers from Jin Haneul,” Ara Cha smirked.  “She seems to know what she’s doing.”

I scoffed.  “I’m not doing anything!  And the only reason he talked to me in the first place is probably because I’m a foreigner.  So I guess if you want attention, go to a different country.”

“But if you’re not doing anything,” Sunhee said, “then how come you’re so close with Youngmin-oppa?” 

“We’re not that close,” I muttered, although I knew that was a lie.  We were getting dangerously familiar with each other.  Enough so that I had no problem in ordering him to come to my house for tutoring lessons.

“But you sat at their table on Friday!” Sunhee exclaimed.

“Actually, I didn’t sit there because of Youngmin-oppa,” I answered.  “Minwoo-ah invited me to eat lunch with him and his friends.  I had no idea he was a kingka as well.”

Sunhee nearly fainted.  “M-Minwoo-oppa invited you to eat lunch with him?”

“How could you not know that he was a kingka?” Yoora asked, bewildered.

“No one explained it to her,” Ara Cha said softly, finally coming to my rescue (even though this entire discussion was completely her fault).  “And the Boyfriend group was pretty scattered the first few days of school, so she wouldn’t know.”

Boyfriend?  I gave them a blank expression.

“Boyfriend is their group name,” Ara Cha offered.

“Yeah,” Jessica spoke up, counting on her fingers,  “Minwoo-oppa, Hyunseong-oppa, Jeongmin-oppa, Youngmin-oppa, Kwangmin-oppa, and Donghyun-oppa.  Although, Donghyun-oppa has already graduated, so you wouldn’t know him.”

“Donghyun-oppa!” Yoora cried dramatically.  “Why did you have to leave us?  Why hide your beautiful face from us?”  Comfortingly, Ara Cha patted the girl’s back.

“Oh, and Jin Haneul-ah,” Sunhee said, “you don’t have to feel alone about crushing on Youngmin-oppa.  He practically has half the girls here chasing after him.  There’s a reason they are called ‘Boyfriend.’  Everyone wants them to be theirs.”

For some unknown reason, my heart dropped at that.  Pabo, Jin, what are you feeling sad for?  You do not like Jo Youngmin!

Luckily for me, the bell rang and it was time to head to class, ending the uncomfortable conversation.  Unluckily, my next class was Korean –my worst subject.  Sighing dejectedly, I made my way over to my worst nightmare.

Carefully, hesitantly, I placed my homework on my desk.  Staring at it, I realized how my Korean homework and Youngmin’s English homework looked so similar.  Both had messy eraser marks with sloppy lettering and the papers both had crinkle marks from desperate handling.  Letting out a deep, slow breath, I stared hopelessly at my paper.  I knew there were a ton of mistakes, but I didn’t know how to fix them.  I really should be in a lower class, but I was too prideful to let that happen.  Maybe if I spent less time drawing and more time studying I would get better marks…

I felt someone poke me.

“What’s wrong?” Youngmin whispered.

I shook my head.  “Nothing, just a tiring lunch.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward in an almost smile.  But then his eyes travelled down to my paper, the almost-smile disappearing instantly.

“You have that word wrong.  You mean this,” he quickly corrected it for me. 

I stared at my paper with wide eyes, but not because he changed my answer, but for an entirely different reason altogether.  He had scooted closer to me, our shoulders touching and angled himself so he half-faced me and half-faced my pitiful homework.  I knew that if I looked up I would see his long, dark lashes resting on his high cheekbones.  I could see in my mind his bangs swiped across his forehead.  In his voice, I heard the small, patient smile that his pink lips formed.  I couldn’t look at him directly.  No, it was much better to look at my paper.

“Jin-ah?” Youngmin’s melodic voice brought my head up, which was a mistake because now I was captured by his dark eyes that seemed to be so close to mine.  “Do you get it?”

“Uh, yeah…” Crap!  What had he been talking about?  Oh right, my homework.  Wait, did he just explain something to me?  Ugh!  Jung Jin Haneul, you fail!  How dare you be distracted by this pretty-boy?!

Youngmin’s smile grew in understanding.  “Don’t be embarrassed.”  With those words, I realized I’d started blushing and my heart beat faster.  Did he know what I was thinking about?  I nearly began a panic attack when he continued.  “You’ll get the hang of this in no time, just you wait and see.  By the end of the month you’ll be ahead of all of us.”

Relief made my heart rate slow down and I managed a weak smile.  “Hopefully.”

Youngmin held my gaze longer, not moving away, suddenly a bit more serious.  “Hey, about Friday.  Uh, thanks.  I really appreciate it.”

My smile became a bit stronger.  “No problem.”

“And I was wondering…” his voice trailed off.  I looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue.  “Would it be okay if you came to my house on Saturday?  Maybe I could help you with your Korean…” he ended in a soft, uncertain mutter.

My heart clenched.  Did he just invite me over to his house?!  “Y-you really don’t have to do that.  I don’t want to be a burden on you, especially on a Saturday.”

“I want to do it!”  His intense answer startled me and he lowered his voice again.  “I mean, if you’re free.  I really want to help you like you’re helping me.”  Color touched his cheeks, but he didn’t break eye-contact.

My blush deepened and all I could do was nod.  The smile that broke across his face brightened his eyes.  “Perfect!  I’ll pick you up at 10:45.  Is that okay?  And we can have lunch together.”

I gave a small laugh.  “Okay, so after practice Friday and 10:45 on Saturday.”  I almost said ‘It’s a date!’ but barely held my tongue in time. 

At that moment our attention was called to the front for roll call.