“What do you mean, like?” I say. “What do you mean, crush?”

“You sound mad,” she observes nervously.

“Not mad,” I correct. “Just really, really confused.”

Why does everyone have to make things so complicated?

It was simpler when I liked Lange for his looks and Bora, Nam, and I were friends who did weird things together. It was still simple even when I was helping Chanyeol pair people up. But now? I’m trying to manage a Ferris wheel of emotions, and hardly any of them are mine.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“No. That’s not – tell me. How’d it start?” I ask, wanting to understand. “Do you know when it began?”

“I don’t know for sure. It crept up on me.” Her hands, which hold tiny fingers, are shaking. “He’s always been my – our – friend. You know. We’d joke about you and me being each other’s soul mates, and Nam was our third wheel. And we were the three musketeers, except we were females, and Nam was the only boy. But he’s always been there for us. And he was sweet. And I always knew that and gushed about it, but lately … lately. He reminds me of Kea.”

And I know, right then, that I can’t get mad at her for liking a guy who reminds her of her dead best friend.

“I don’t like him solely because of that, though. I like him because I can rely on him. Because he’s a great guy, and I trust him.” She in a long breath. “So, I don’t think I can help him get with Seya.”

There goes my hidden card, and it didn’t even last a week. What am I going to do? I can’t ask Bora to help Nam reconcile with Seya, and I can’t trust Chanyeol since his recent confession of his admiration for Seya. It’s just me. I’m the only one who is unaffected by this super bizarre love square.

Seya has no idea how much havoc she has caused.

“That’s fine,” I tell Bora. “It’s no big deal. I can – yeah. It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t say that,” I assure her, smiling. “It’s okay. It was Chanyeol and me who were supposed to do it, anyway. I was feeling distrustful. I’m going to go,” I say, standing and gathering my plates. “I’ll see you in the room.”

“Okay,” she says softly. After returning my plates, I walk out of the cafeteria and keep my eyes on Seya and Chanyeol. I pull out my phone and send him a warning.

Me: I hope you aren’t acting as a wedge between two people!

I look up, and the exit doors of the cafeteria are right in front of me. I mutter “Crap” upon seeing how close it is and reach for the door, but instead, another set of fingers grips the handle and pushes it open.

“Oh,” I say, “Thank – “ It’s Lange. It’s Lange, and he’s smiling, and he’s holding the door open for me. “ – you.”

“Yup,” he nods. I leave the cafeteria, but I can still feel him behind me. I can smell him, too; that cologne is pungent.

I quicken my steps, but before I can escape, he says something else.

“How’ve you been?”

How have I been? I almost want to laugh. Why do you ask? Do you care? I turn around and smile because I’m expected to. “I’m all right. You?” I don’t give a crap about how you’ve been, but I’m asking anyway.

“Been busy with soccer,” he admits. His poise irritates me. I’m amazed at how he can stand beside me as if he actually cared about how I was doing.

“That’s neat.” Don’t care. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of homework to do, so … I’ll see you.”

“Okay, Junah,” he says, smiling. My heart almost ceases to beat. I haven’t seen those eyes and that smile in a long time, and they are still as remarkable as ever. “See you later.” I watch him take the path leading to his dorm. He seems different. The cocky crick in his neck is gone, along with his dazed gait. But perhaps it is only I, wanting to pretend that he has changed.

Before my heart can crack open in public, I jog to my dorm and head straight for the steps at the back. As soon as I’m there, I slide to the ground, shield my face in my hands, and breathe out.

Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this whole making couples thing. If it hadn’t been for Lange, I wouldn’t have thought about it. It would just be something Chanyeol solely did. Something we would talk about, something I watched. Bora and I would go on being friends with Nam, and if, along the way, she began to like him, I could encourage her. And if Nam didn’t like Seya, my loyalties wouldn’t be split.

Everything spun off from the moment I publicly rejected Lange. And although I felt like the star of one of those independent woman chick flicks, I feel sick to my stomach, and also, sick to my heart.

You made me think that being able to change someone’s heart was actually easy.

You were never supposed to … never supposed to be in my life again. I was okay. I got over it. I couldn’t forget you, but I forgave you. And I got over it. That’s what time does, you know? Lessens the pain. Numbs it. Makes it insignificant. Less torturi