Page 76 of XOXO

“Yeah. It was one of the songs we released before our first full-length album.”

“Imagine if I’d had you singthatsong.”

“I would have rocked it, obviously.”

I don’t have that exact song on my phone, so I instead play XOXO’s “Don’t Look Back,” which is my favorite of theirs anyway.

Jaewoo shakes his head and I start laughing.

“I’m glad this amuses you.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t listen to your own songs and sing along to your parts.”

“To be honest, I don’t...” He pauses. “I like to rap Sun and Youngmin’s parts.”

“Oh my God, youhaveto do it now.”

“Only if you sing the vocal parts.”

“You’re on!”

I restart “Don’t Look Back” from the beginning and this time sing the first verse. Then when it’s Youngmin’s rap break, I cheer Jaewoo along.

It takes us about an hour from the academy to reach our destination, a small city outside the Seoul capital area, all of which is spent singing and talking. On roads where there’s less traffic, Jaewoo rests his right arm on the console between us so I can play with his fingers.

It’s wild that we have to drive so far to watch a movie—when there’s a mall with a theater one subway stop from our school—but it makes sense too. Out here, it’s unlikely we’ll encounter paparazzi.

“I already purchased the tickets for the movie,” Jaewoo says, “so we have a half hour to kill.”

“Okay,” I say. “What do you want to do?”

“It’s up to you,” he says. “We could go over to the theater and see what’s around there.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say as he links his fingers through mine.

Luckily, for a Saturday, the mall where the theater is located is not crowded, and most of the people are either older or with their families. No one pays us any attention. We naturally gravitate toward the small arcade outside the theater without either of us saying anything.

We spend some time playing this zombie shooting game, reaching the fourth level only to be killed in a splatter of gore. Then, before leaving, Jaewoo tries his hand at winning a plushie for me from one of the claw machines. He spends about ?10000 on ten attempts with no success.

“It’s rigged!” he yells, after the plush doll drops right next to the chute.

“It’s okay,” I say soothingly, holding back my laughter at how exasperated, and cute, he looks.

As we step away from the machine, a little girl hops up and slips in ?1000, maneuvering the sticks lightly and pressing the Go button. The claw descends, picks up the plushie, and deposits it into the chute. Reaching in, she grabs the stuffed animal, blinks up at us, and then runs away.

“To be fair,” I say after a long pause, “I’m sure an eight year old would appreciate that plushie more than I would.”

“Maybe I can buy it off her.”

“Jaewoo!”

He hooks an arm around me, and we walk side by side to the concessions stand.

“Since you got the tickets and paid for the arcade games, I’ll get the food,” I announce.

“It’s fine. I’ll get them.”

“I insist.”

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