I follow.
Like a creeper.
She gets out of the van and goes into the dorms. I pull my baseball hat down, follow her, and then knock on her door.
She opens it, frowning.
I push her back in.
She throws off my hat. “You scared me to death!”
“Sorry,” I say. “I was just…wanting some…ramyeon.”
“And I’m the chef now?” She rolls her eyes and closes the door. “And no ramyeon. You may as well ask for Netflix and chill.”
“Same thing?” I mean, it sort of is, and my body’s completely on board with it after today. I would love to Netflix and chill or eat ramyeon. God, she’s so pretty it hurts.
“Same thing.” She nods. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a nap.”
I yawn behind my hand. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“No.” She points a finger at me. “You’re already confusing enough and—”
“Me?” I point at myself. “Confusing? I just didn’t want to go all the way home. You’re closer.”
She sighs and looks up at the ceiling in annoyance. “Fine. Couch. Go. No ramyeon.”
“Deal.” I just want to be close to her, so I go to her couch and lie down as if I’m really tired, even though just seeing her has adrenaline coursing through my system.
She goes into her bedroom. When she comes out to get water, I see she’s changed her clothes. She’s in black sweatpants and a white tank top now. The lights are off in the apartment as she grabs a water bottle from the fridge and returns to her room. I stare at her, even though I know I shouldn’t.
The couch is comfortable, and still smells like her. It’s this weird addiction I didn’t realize I wanted or needed as I toss and turn with the blanket I grabbed.
Then I finally open the door to her room and wander in.
“What could you possibly want?” she asks.
“A small spoon,” I answer.
“Like I said, NO ramyeon!”
“No, I mean like this sort of spoon.” I crawl onto the bed, fully ready for her to knee me in the balls or yell at me.
Instead, she relaxes against me and mumbles, “This means nothing, even if I’m the small spoon.”
“It means nothing even if I’m the big spoon.”
She huffs.
And falls asleep.
The last thing I remember is her reaching for my hand.
When I wake an hour later, she’s sprawled on me, her legs tangled with mine. I don’t have the heart to move, even though I’m starving. She sighs and nudges my neck with her chin.
It’s heaven.
Just like our song.
I hold her tightly.
And then I get kneed in the balls.
“Son of a bitch!” I yell.
“Oh, no!” Ah-Ri pulls away from me. “I’m so sorry! I had a nightmare.”
“About my dick?” I yell.
She bursts out laughing and says, “You know, tiny things are scary.”
“Take it back.” I groan, still in pain but able to flip her onto her back as she laughs.
“Never!” Ah-Ri announces.
I start to tickle her sides.
She lifts her leg. “Don’t you dare.”
Her stomach growls.
Mine is getting ready to do the same.
I want to kiss her, but food first. I pull away. “Want me to order dinner?”
“You paying?”
“Do I get something for paying?” I ask.
She holds up her hand.
I punch it with my fist and then rest my palm against hers. “Worth it.”
Her breath hitches.
I don’t want to ruin the moment, so I leave the room and grab my phone, my hands trembling.
Our palms kissed again.
I’m such a nerd.
But I smile the entire time I look for some good places to eat.
Later that night, when we’re sitting across from each other, I realize it’s still too far.
It will always be too far if I’m away from her.
We decide on pizza, and as she eats in front of me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl throw back so many slices in my entire life. It’s attractive as hell, and I find myself watching while she chomps down. I’m so proud of her for eating that I can’t stop smiling.
“You have sauce, right there.” I point to her chin and then rub the sauce off with my thumb.
She blushes, swallows, and looks away. “Sorry. I was starving.”
“Same.” I’m not talking about the pizza. I drop my slice and continue to stare. Something about her inspires me and makes me want more than I’m allowed to have. How did this even happen?
“I like it when you eat,” I whisper.
She blushes and looks down. “I feel stronger now.”
“You were always strong.”
I think of raw beauty, the kind you struggle to explain with just one word. She’s fierce. Powerful. She’s like a thorn on a rose that you’re afraid to touch but need to feel in order for the pain to cleanse you.
She’s everything.
And I’m afraid to say anything. So, I sit and watch like an idiot while she eats, while I eat, while we both act like there isn’t this weird tension in the room because of me. Because of us.