“I’ve got a mission for us, Junah.”

It’s Saturday. The one day I can sleep in without feeling guilty. Today, my plans go as follows: Wake up right before the cafeteria closes, eat lunch, watch movies in bed, eat dinner, maybe do homework, eat snacks, and then sleep. I had no intention of leaving my room unless it was absolutely necessary. Yet even before I am given the chance to begin my lazy schedule, a very loud and boisterous giant wakes me up to remind me that life never accurately goes as planned.

“Why did I even answer this call?” I mumble to myself as I practically fall out of bed. Bora stirs, but she doesn’t wake. I tiptoe to the closet, shut the door, and insert my face between my hanging clothes.

“What?” Chanyeol asks.

“Nothing,” I groan.

“You’re out of bed, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Is Bora still asleep?”

“Yeah, and I should be asleep, too,” I retort.

“You’re in the closet, aren’t you?”

I step back from my clothes and glare at the door. “Are you a fan, or a creep?”

“Neither,” he laughs. “Seemed like something you would do. Hey, come downstairs. I’m outside.”

“Why?”

“Because a guy went up to me and asked for my help. I hardly receive male customers. This is a rare opportunity. You need to come down so we can meet him.”

“Why on earth would he tell you about his need for a girlfriend so early in the morning?” I complain.

“He didn’t. He told me yesterday. I woke up early today because my roommate’s alarm went off. I figured I’d wake you up, too, and we could be cranky together.”

“You aren’t even cranky, Chanyeol,” I say and rub a hand over my face.

“Why don’t you call me Chan anymore?”

My tired mind immediately clears. I answer, a little nervously, “Oh … I don’t know. It comes and goes.”

“Come downstairs. I have breakfast.” He ends the call. I wait for my phone to give me the dial tone before I shut it off and open the closet door.

As quietly as possible, I brush my teeth and change out of my pajamas. Normally I would throw on athletic shorts and a giant t-shirt, but my recent awareness of my feelings for Chanyeol causes me to find a cuter substitution. Instead, I put on something more presentable.

I run out of my room to meet Chanyeol outside, but I don’t see him anywhere. I’m about to walk back inside when he jumps out and yells “Junah!”, causing me to not only hop like an energizer bunny, but scream as if that girl from The Grudge was here to kill me.

“I hate you!” I yell at him and slap his shoulder. He shields himself and laughs.

“Hey! You’re too cranky!”

“That’s why I came down, because I’m cranky, you idiot,” I shout. “Hurry up and tell me what you need to tell me.”

“Your hair looks worse than mine,” he muses. I reach over to pull his hair, but he shakes his head and leans back. “You can’t reach me. You’re too short.”

“I’m going to kill you.” I look at his empty hands. “I thought you said you had breakfast.”

“It’s in the cafeteria,” he sticks his tongue out. He starts walking, so I follow him.

“So what do you know about the guy? Who is he?”

“A year older than us. His major is political science. He looks like a grandpa though.” Chanyeol smiles to himself, as if it’s the funniest joke he’s made. “We’re going to see him in the cafeteria.”

“Is it open?”

“Two minutes ago,” he says. It is definitely too early for me.

We arrive at the cafeteria, and Chanyeol opens the door for me. Once the cafeteria lady scans our IDs, Chanyeol and I check our food options. Discontent with what I see, I resign myself to a bowl of cereal, while Chanyeol gets cereal and an omelet. We sit at a table where we can see the door, and then we wait.

“There’s literally nobody here,” I say as I look around. I’ve never been to the cafeteria this early on a Saturday. When I go, it’s usually bustling with people who rolled right out of bed – or fell, like I did today.

“That’s him,” Chanyeol says. I watch a guy with dark hair and eyes enter the cafeteria. With a gentle smile, he