Page 20 of A World Apart
For a whole moment, we locked eyes. He grinned at me and I raised a hand to give him a little wave and a shy smile.
Eun put a hand on his back and moved to stand further in front of the car door, blocking our line of sight as the car door was closed after Jihoon got in. Youngsoo glanced over at me, bowing ever so slightly before jogging around the car to get in the other side while Eun slid into the front passenger side.
“I saw that,” Becka hissed at me as the SUV pulled away.
I pulled at the collar of my jacket. “You’re imagining things,” I replied, finding other things to look at, rather than her face.
She was quiet the whole way home, but if looks could talk, she would have been saying a whole hell of a lot.
Saturday
“You need a new hobby,” Becka said from my doorway. I looked up from where I was sat cross-legged on my bed, a note book open across my lap.
“Why?” I asked defensively, “What’s wrong with this?” I held up the notebook. Admittedly, the page was currently mostly empty.
“Nothing, normally.” She said, leaning against the door frame, mug in hand. “But you’ve been sat like this all morning. Have you even moved?” She gave me a look that very clearly told me she disapproved of whatever it is she thought I was doing − which was sat on my unmade bed in my crumpled jammies, pretending to write lyrics while forlornly looking out the window that faced the brick wall of the building next to ours. Not a lot of inspiration to be found in that view.
“I got up to brush my teeth.” I shrugged.
Becka rolled her eyes and made a ‘uh huh’ sound. “You know,” she started, “most people would be super psyched after meeting their celebrity crush. But you’re actingweird.” Becka cocked her head to the side, staring at me with entirely too much intensity for 10:00 on a Saturday.
“I can’t put my finger on it,” she said, uncertainly. “He seems like a nice boy,” she said, tapping the rim of her mug against her lip like she was trying to puzzle something out.
“He IS a nice boy,” I said. “A nice man. He’s… nice.” Not my finest work.
“Hmmm.” Becka made an unhappy noise.
We fell into an awkward silence and I began to feel uncomfortable with the way she was staring at me. Becka had an uncanny ability to laser focus on a person or a problem and find a way to solve whatever mystery she found and I wasn’t certain I wanted to be that mystery.
More out of awkwardness than an actual desire for coffee, I tossed my notebook into my rucksack and got off the bed and headed towards the kitchenette. I poured myself a cup from the already-made pot on the side. Becka followed me over.
“Why does this feel like a ‘thing’, though?” She asked, leaning against the kitchen island that separated the kitchen area from the living room.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, looking at her over the rim of my mug as I took a sip.
“Remember that time we went to go see Flaming Sunrise when they performed at the SU?” I nodded. It still blew my mind that all it cost me was £5 to get in.
“Yeah, well, remember when we got to do shots with the lead singer-”
“Tad Logan.” I supplied helpfully.
“Yeah, him,” Becka agreed dismissively, “I remember you wouldn’t shut up about that for literally weeks afterwards. Weeks. I had to talk you out of getting a tattoo.”
“Still think that would have been dope,” I muttered.
“And now you’ve met a celebrity you are arguably far more invested in and… what?” Becka put her mug down on the kitchen island.
“What?” I reply.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
I rolled my eyes. “And in your opinion,” I said, pointing at her with my mug, “how should I be acting?”
“That’s just it,” she said, shrugging her whole upper body, like she was mad at me, for some reason, “more!”
“More?”
“More!” She exclaimed loudly. “More excited, buying useless shit with his face on it, threatening to get a tattoo with his song lyrics. More!” She put her mug down on the counter. Not slammed, but harder than was strictly necessary.
