"I trust you", San tells me, and I freeze. Does that mean that he'd hook up with me if I'd want it too?
Do I want it? Hell, yeah.
But... I'm scared.
Why?
I'm not the virgin here - San is.
So why am I the one who's frozen, unable to form a full se...
Maybe we should just stop it. I know we've only been doing it for about one and a half weeks, but I don't care. It's not as fun as I though it would be – so where's the problem with ending it?
There is none – and that's the beauty of just hooking up, right? That you can end it whenever you want to, and it's no big deal.
"Sure. Bye." Jimin's voice sounds small now, but I pretend I don't notice.
"Bye." I step out into the corridor and pull his door close behind me.
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As soon as I enter San's and my flat, there's a "Hey Wooyoung!", coming from the kitchen.
"Hi San", I reply, hoping that I don't sound too bothered. Or guilty.
"You alright?" San emerges in the door frame. He appears to be in a good mood, smiling at me so brightly that his dimples show.
He has no idea, I try to calm myself down. He doesn't know that I just thought of him while fucking another guy. He has no idea about this one time where he even appeared in my dreams. He doesn't know.
"Yeah, I am." I chuckle. "I've just been, um, practicing for hip-hop class... I'm a bit sweaty, I need to shower..."
"My friends are here", San tells me.
That hits me unprepared. "Already?"
There's a snicker coming from our kitchen, and I blush. Yep, they definitely are here.
"Hi Wooyoung!", someone yells.
"Hi!", I shout back, although I have no clue who just greeted me. Lowering my voice again, I turn to San: "I'll join you in ten."
"Sure." San shrugs and retreats back to his friends in the kitchen while I head into the bathroom for a shower.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm done showering and standing in front of the bathroom sink, staring at my reflection.
I'm nervous. My social skills are crap. What do I do if San's friends don't like me? How do I get them to like me? I know about neither.
Just be yourself, I can still hear Dad's well-meant advice. He's told me that whenever he knew I was about to meet new people. It was his go-to phrase. I've tried it for a while; then I gave it up because it never worked the way I wanted it to.
Just be yourself would've meant coming out in middle school. I'm glad I didn't do that, because it sure as hell saved me a lot of bullying. Just be yourself in the presence of my crush five years ago would've meant being a nervous, stuttering mess around him. Instead, I played it cool, ignored him for the first three days of dance camp, and had his tongue down my throat by day four.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I contemplate. Just be yourself or Play it cool? Maybe neither. Maybe both. I'd be damned if I knew.
