“So, it’s like a date?” Myungsoo grinned, that knowing smile etched upon his sharp features. He gazed around me. I wanted to mentally stab my head for even entertaining/ responding to that statement. Way to go, genius. I remained distant, finding words to line my disheveled thoughts. Myungsoo was still smiling, and I was starting to question my sanity.

“Do you have a thing for boys or something, soccer player?” I mumbled, pacing my way towards the entrance of the supermarket. “What are you playing at?”

“Well maybe. Sungjong could have been right. Without the thick-rimmed glasses and possibly with long hair would you pass off as a beautiful lady,” Myungsoo commented, eyes crinkled into a depthless edge. I think it’s depthless, for beneath those eyes lies many emotions. For no apparent reason, Myungsoo looked positively different. He seemed contented and happy. Attractively, happy.

Screw you, female hormones.

“Yeah Myungsoo, maybe I should start wearing dresses to class,” I remarked sarcastically.

“Black dresses!” he played along, that smirk playing on his lips. He grabbed the trolley before I managed to do so. I gave a defeated look, trailing him from the back. “I think girls look amazing in black.”

“With frills, right? And laces,” I rolled my eyes, words coated with Park In-Na’s usual witty counter-attack.

“Knitted sweaters,” he responded, brushing off my question with an upturned of his lips. “Girls look the most beautiful in knitted sweaters.”

"I'm a boy!" I hissed. "You're weird, dude. Why are you telling me all of your boy fantasies?"

I raised a brow, realizing that he was picking on something.

I, Park In-Na owns a black sweater, and our dearest striker was still holding on to it. He has yet to return it to me.

Oh crap.
 

We spent the past half an hour arguing over canned food and potato chips among the supermarket aisles. In my honest opinion, it was the most absurd, energy-draining thing in the book.

“Dude, potato chips in the trolley now!" I yelped in my best boy-tone, trying to pull it away from Myungsoo’s grasp. He was undeniably taller and stronger than me. My non-pleasing height was a disadvantage. “I don’t care if you’re not eating it. I’m having it!”

“We have a match coming up, Niel.”

“I am not playing for the team, so it’s okay if I eat it!”

“Sungyeol’s going to eat it!” Myungsoo scoffed, playfully hurling that sinfully piece of god-sent potato chips back to where it belongs – that horrible, tall shelving. “Besides, we’re not supposed to encourage Woohyun. He will most definitely add these potato chips into his secret snack stash.”

“Look at me, Myungsoo. Do I look like I give a damn?” I tiptoed, trying to shove him away for he was blocking my reach. I bit my lips, prying for the empty space. The distance, between myself and that bag filled beautiful goodness was just by an inch. “I’m the water boy. Water boy needs his potato chips!”

Myungsoo subtly rolled his eyes, tugging me by the sleeves. “Get moving, Niel. Before I tear open the potato chips and stuff it into your mouth.”

“Go on,” I dared him, smirking intently into his face. Myungsoo stifled a laugh, clearly surprised with the way I had stuffed words back into him. I waved a finger, provoking him to grab a bag and tear it open.

“You’re unbelievable,” he widened his eyes. Humor and slight ad