Tangled Strings

Chapter 8: Asa's Concern

The aftermath of the party lingered like a hangover that wouldn’t fade.

Chiquita wasn’t physically hungover—she had barely drunk anything—but her mind felt foggy, weighed down by the events of the night before.

By the way Ahyeon had looked at her.

By the way she had felt something in that stare, something unspoken, something too late.

But she had no time for that.

Because today, she had practice. And she had Asa.

And Asa wasn’t going to let her brush it all under the rug.

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Baemon’s practice room was their sanctuary.

A soundproofed, dimly lit space in the farthest wing of the school, where they could be as loud as they wanted without anyone complaining.

Chiquita arrived late.

Asa was already behind her drum set, idly tapping the snare, while Ruka tuned her bass and Rora scrolled through her phone.

The moment Chiquita walked in, all three of them looked up.

Rora’s eyes flickered with recognition—she knows—but she said nothing.

Ruka just gave her a long, knowing look.

And Asa?

Asa didn’t even hesitate.

“Sit,” Asa said, pointing at a chair.

Chiquita sighed. “We have practice.”

“We can practice after you explain what the hell happened last night.”

Ruka leaned against the amp, arms crossed. “I second that.”

Chiquita groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Nothing happened.”

Asa snorted. “Bullshit.”

Chiquita plopped onto the couch, stretching her legs out. “Seriously, what’s there to explain? I made out with someone. Ahyeon saw. The end.”

Rora raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the end.”

Ruka smirked. “Especially since Ahyeon looked like she was ready to commit murder.”

Chiquita scowled. “She doesn’t care.”

“Right.” Asa leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “And yet, she was staring at you like you just ripped her heart out.”

Chiquita let out a bitter laugh. “She doesn’t have a heart.”

“Yeah?” Asa tilted her head. “Then why do you look like you’re the one hurting?”

Silence.

Chiquita looked away.

Asa sighed, rubbing her temple. “Chi… you gotta stop doing this to yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are.” Asa’s voice was sharper now. “You’re throwing yourself at someone who keeps pushing you away, and then when she finally starts acting like she might care, you—what? Try to make her jealous?”

Chiquita bristled. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t.” Asa’s eyes were serious. “Don’t lie to me.”

Chiquita exhaled harshly, leaning back. “Fine. Maybe I was. Maybe I wanted her to feel something. To see me.”

Ruka’s voice was softer than usual. “And did it work?”