He both laughs and scoffs at this, but when I don’t laugh with him, he adopts a serious face and says, “You’re serious.”

“Well,” I stutter, “yeah, I mean, if I wasn’t, I’d be – “

“Wait, but you’re serious.”

Growing embarrassed, I stare at my math notes. “We can talk about this another time,” I whisper.

“Class is almost done anyway,” He says rather loudly. “I’m just asking if you’re serious. I never said no.”

“So you’ll let me?” I perk up.

“I didn’t say that, either.”

“You .”

“Well, I’ve never had a helper before. I’ve always worked alone. That sounds so clichéd, but I’m serious. Not only in this, but in everything else as well. It’s easier doing things by myself; if things don’t end well, I only have myself to blame.” He further lowers the volume of his voice, causing his murmur to sound like a low, stirring rumble that reverberates in my chest. “Junah, I like you. You’re a cool person, but I don’t know how you’d make as a partner.”

“Partner in love or partner in crime?”

“This isn’t crime,” he says in displeasure, “this is for the benefit of mankind.”

“It sounds like a slogan from a sketchy health campaign.”

“Shh. Say more, and they’ll catch onto us.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay. I don’t have to be. Fine. Whatever. Maybe I’ll start pairing people up by myself and be your rival.”

“What? Don’t do that.”

“So you’ll take me?” I grin.

“I feel like you’re proposing to me.”

“Why would I propose to a noodle-head?”

“Hey!” He hisses, but his eyes are glinting with laughter. “This is natural.” He glances up at the teacher and says, “I’ll think about it. Does that sound good? I’m going to think about it very hard, and when I make a decision, I’ll make sure I tell you right away. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agree, because I have nothing else to say.

When class ends early, I hastily leave so that I can eat before the cafeteria closes. There are only two other people in the cafeteria besides the cleaning ladies. I serve myself salad, and after eating a bowlful of ice cream, I walk to my dorm and start on homework.

While I am in my room, Nam calls me. I answer the phone even though I’m in the middle of singing with the music in my headphones and greet, “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just called to talk to you.”

“You call to tell me about Seya?” I say as I take off my headphones and pause my music.

“Yeah.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Not much. We had the picnic, she liked it. I sang to her, too, on top of the serenade I bought her.”

“Why are you such a nice guy? Nice guys aren’t supposed to get the girls.”

“Well, I got me one!” He chuckles. “Did Bora tell you about her Red Valentines?”

“Yeah, the girl got three. Three! You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a nice guy.”

He hesitates. “Yeah. I got her one.”

“Of course you did.” The other one must be from that guy that liked Bora. “Why didn’t I get any, oh Mr. Nice Guy?”

“Because you had Lange. I heard about that, by the way. What happened?”

How many times do I have to explain to myself? “He’s a jerk, basically.”

“But everybody already knew that … “

“Yeah, well.” I briefly shut my eyes. “I didn’t want to.”

I can almost see him shrugging when he replies, “Most people don’t see that kind of stuff with the people they like because they’re so busy romanticizing them in their heads.”

“That was deep.”

“What do you mean? I can be deep. I’m an open book.”

“I know.” He would tell me his deepest, darkest secrets if I asked him. “I have to finish homework, so I’ll talk to you later. See you,