This Friend | Yeonbin

9

Soobin P.O.V

Luckily, Yeonjun is a good driver.

Or, he’s at least competent. He’s not, like, swerving all over the road and nearly hitting people, and he’s obeyed every road rule I’ve noticed. He stops at yellow lights, is all I’m saying. It makes me feel a little better about being here.

Despite my nerves, I’m actually having a good time. This section of the city is really pretty, the perfect place for a night drive. We’re surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers and clean, pleasant streets.

To my left is a portable traffic sign that reads, ENJOY THE BEACH, KEEP YOUR DRINKS INSIDE in big orange letters.

And it makes me think of something.

“Hey,” I say. “How old are you even?”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I have no idea.”

He smiles. “I turned eighteen last month. You?”

I nod. “Seventeen.”

“Yeah? You look older.”

I don’t know what to think about that. He doesn’t say it like an insult, but

“I mean that in a good way!” he says. “I don’t mean that you look old or anything. You just look you know. Older.”

“Oh, cool,” I say. “Thanks.”

“No worries.” He chews his lip. “So what music do you like?”

My music tastes aren’t exactly cool. And I care about being cool right now.

I can’t even remember the last time I cared about something like this.

“I like alt rock,” I say. “But stuff that’s more on the pop side of things.”

“Sorry, dude, that makes zero sense to me.”

My cheeks are burning. The car is dark, though, so I don’t think he can tell.

At least I hope he can’t tell.

We’ve reached the main strip of the beach now, where the most famous hotels are. This whole street is deigned in this cool, art deco style. People are everywhere. I’m guessing most of them are tourists.

“The Killers are my favorite, but I also really like You Me at Six. That sort of thing.”

He grabs his phone from the slot on the dash and hands it to me. “Play something. Password is four thousand and one.”

His phone is the newest model of iPhone, in a clear plastic case. It’s really clean, not a smudgy mess like mine. I have the latest model, too, I just never really clean it.

I feel like I’ve been handed a holy grail.

I could find out his last name with this thing.

He hasn’t mentioned it, so I assumed our no-last-names thing is continuing. I just get a vibe from him that he doesn’t want to talk about his. Still, with his phone, he wouldn’t need to tell me.

I could find it out all on my own.

But he’s watching me warily. If I snoop, he’ll know.

Maybe he’s realized that he’s made an impulsive mistake. He looks a little pale and keeps glancing my way. It might be usual they-have-my-phone anxiety, but it could also be more.