I.M. /Jooheon/You

Title: Undecided

I've sworn against more significant things in my life, but swearing I would never go back to that beauty supply store was still a must.

I try to make it a habit to abide by the law that says I need to avoid people and situations that will irk my nerves and test my inner savage.

Even though life likes to pitch these people and situations at me like fast balls.

Anyway, about two weeks ago, I had been on the southside of town, which is the opposite of where I work and live, and I decided to drop by the beauty supply store I'd passed on my way on an errand. Ya girl had just lost her last good bobby pin that morning – I was gonna run in and run out so I could hurry back home to my igloo to escae the summer meltdown.

As I had pulled into the small, crude-looking parking lot, I knew I was squinting hard as hell. Blinding ass sun and farsightedness never mix. But as it turns out, apparently one of the store's employees was standing out back – on break I assume – and was mean mugging me back with a limp cigarette between his lips as I maneuvered into the space in front of him. It wasn't until I was damn near about to run him over that I put two and two together, that he was mistaking my scolding stare for attitude instead of concentration.

Or whatever he assumed. I don't know, thinking about it now.

I just know that the kid and I had locked eyes for a moment, his hostile and mine slowly transfixing into confusion and a slight, unwarranted look of guilt. Then he coolly slide the cig out, ashed it out on the pavement with his foot, and disappeared through the backdoor without a sideways glance back.

That should have been strike one, if I had been more suspecting.

Of course I wasn't. I didn't think twice about it as I climbed out and rounded the building for the entrance, flying sandals crunching over the weeds growing through the cracked cement. Maybe, besides not wanting to burst into flames, I had attributed the incident to Asian people just being temperamental like that. It was something I was used to and a stereotype undisputed in this city. Seemed normal that he would be no different.

I remember pushing the glass door open, barely hearing the muted bell that went off. My initial exasperation at how big the store was on the inside compared to its exterior was quickly dispelled, my attention diverting to the bored, low-key hood, disembodied call of, "Welcome to Fatboy's ma'am." Like the duck I am, I had thanked her and went off to find the bobby pins on my own -you know, since I like to do things the hard way. It only took five minutes of me misreading the aisle signs and wandering the rows before a very pregnant, brown-skinned chick in a store apron approached – waddled- up to me like she was trying very hard to be polite to the village idiot. "You need some help, ma'am?"

Clearly, I had thought, replying with a sheepish, "Uh yeah, I'm tryna find the bobby pins."

"Aisle 8 baby, look for the bigger ones on the bottom." She had pointed with lime green spikes for nails. "Just ask me if you need anything else, I'm Mya."

"Thank you, I will."

I found the pins easy enough from there and went to check out…realizing only too soon that the guy from outside was the cashier. I had already felt stupid enough for two people that day, in that timeframe alone, so as I got closer to the product cluttered, raised counter, I was secretly praying that the kid wouldn't look at me the way he did outside. Or I would say something I'd regret.

If you recall I said earlier about life's fastballs, you'll already know those prayers were sent up null and void.

I had slid the pins across the surface, cleared my throat and saved all of China before he finally – reluctantly – acknowledged I was there, setting his phone facedown on the counter and standing. He didn't even look at me as he swiped up the pins to ring them up. Not even to tell me the price. "2.03," he'd mumbled in an accent-less voice much deeper than I expected, yet I hardly had time to muse over that. I could feel myself getting tight at his refusal to look me in my face like a decent human being, despite the fact that my head was bowed most of the time. Or maybe I had been looking and lowered my head to shield the red glow leaking into my gaze. I can't be too certain.

"Bag?"

"Naw," I had said, the DMX song playing in the background somehow triggering me more. And it only got worse when I shoved my card into the small machine only for him to condescendingly announce, "You need to swipe, the chip reader isn't working."

"Coulda said that from the beginning," I huffed under my breath, sucking my teeth and snatching the card out. If he was looking at me by then, I didn't know. I highly doubt he was, and it pissed me off even more because I'm sure he had labeled me as an irritable, ghetto bitch who could only be treated as such since the second he laid eyes on me.

When the transaction had cleared and he'd tossed me my receipt, my scalp was practically tingling and burning from the fumes that were coming out of it. Consistent with his character, the kid didn't wish me a good day or thank me for coming. I honestly don't know what he did or looked like because I had slapped my stuff off the counter, death-gripping them as I hurried out of there. Trudging back to my car, I pondered on why I had let his bitch ass get to me. He was being a typical Asian, a racist asshole only concerned with making profit off the black community. Within only a matter of ten minutes, I had let him disturb my peace. I really let that happen.

My humiliation then and the humidity of the day went hand-in-hand.

But by the time I'd climbed into the driver's seat and sat, slumped over with my forehead on the steering wheel, I started to calm down. So it happened. No big deal. Fuck him.

I just wouldn't return to that store. Simple and done.

How cute my resolution must have seemed to the universe. So stinking, fucking cute.

Because just as I had totally put the whole incident behind me, never to be thought of again, I run out of my favorite shampoo that upcoming weekend. And surprise surprise, since it takes me forever to get through one bottle, between the last time I bought it and now, every beauty supply store within a 20 mile radius of where I stay is miraculously out of stock.

So is every Wally World. Walgreens. CVS. Target.

You. Fucking. Name. It.

Naturally, when I'm reduced to scouring any and every store that might carry it on the southside, I have no luck either. Which leaves one store standing for me to try – my pride outweighed by how much I would hate myself for trying to order it through Amazon without even peeking in there first.

So here I am now, walking in, Ciara's "1,2 Step" ironically filling my ears the moment I slide past the dramatic ass metal detectors right in front of the door.

I've sworn against worse, like I've said.

Its all in the past.

It was hot as fuck that day and it made me moodier than usual.

Right?

Right.

This time Mya's voice doesn't drift over to invite me in. It's no matter because I can easily spot Aisle 10 where the shampoos and conditioners are located. I make a careful note not to glance in the direction of the front of the store, hoping not to jinx my good luck that I didn't see him smoking out back again as I pulled up (with additional thanks to my plan not to return the same day and time of day where I'd run into him, you know, since I am for sure over the past and the petty).

My spitefulness doesn't last long, however. After a long time racking the shelves multiple times, bending over, stretching my neck, and exhaling heavily through my nose, I see my searching is fruitless. With Mya still nowhere in sight for me to ask any questions.

Straightening back up, I still. Blink and breathe in slow motion.

And chance a look over my shoulder at the front of the store.

Of course, he's there.

Same as before, only he's wearing a black polo shirt this time instead of the dingy white tee from before, matching Adidas idly propped up on the edge of the counter from his perch on the small stool. Expression belaying that if he wasn't fucking around on his phone, the rude bastard would be napping if he could get away with it.

Mentally preparing myself, I drag myself to the counter yet determine myself to look him in the eye at all times even if he doesn't. If I'm not bigger, I'll always lose, so why not?

"Excuse me? Hey, uh…" Stoic, narrowed beads inching over to appraise me and an arched brow are the only movements he make. I pull out my phone with the image of the shampoo on my screen at the ready to show him. "I'm looking for this brand of shampoo, are you out of it? Or do you still sell it? I saw that you have the moisturizer in this brand but-

"Ok wait, hold on – Mya!" On the verge of rolling his eyes, he shifts up straighter, like that's supposed to improve his projection. He still manages to sound as stiff and boorish as he booms his voice across the store, which somehow aggravates me even more on top of his cutting me off -if my visible cringing is any indication. "Mya! Customer! Mya! Where the he- ah shit, I forgot she's on break."

Then his annoyed stare focuses on me. "What you need again?"

" This is what I need," I nearly spit, curling my lip and shoving my phone forward. Completely ignoring my sass, the kid squints in closer, lips moving as he reads. At his beckon to hand the phone over, I eye him like he's crazy until his actual eye roll of ' I need it to help you dummy' takes precedence – further ticking me off.

I jolt a little at his sudden jump up and agile hop over the miniature door that leads to behind the counter. More than that, I'm forced into an uncomfortable fast walk to keep up behind him -still unable to stop slightly shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all, yes, though more so at how fucking tall the bastard is too. I never noticed it until I was right up under him. Literally under him. And I cant help thinking that I will eventually explode from how much every little detail about this boy tweaks me.

"I already checked all the shelves, its not there," I say, crossing my arms offendedly. He's checking each shelf with the careful precision of a mother who tells her kid to get something the kid claims they can't find. Who wouldn't be mad at that?

Regardless, I'm ignored. Again. As he sweeps back and forth, periodically glancing at my phone in his hand, my overly sensitive nose picks up whiffs of him.

Which….amidst the tension…simmers me down a tad, arms and body slackening.

"Here."

"Huh?"

"Your phone." After smacking it into my hastily extended palm, he doesn't skip a beat procuring his own phone from his back pocket (when did he stuff it there?) and dialing, white-boy flipping his dark bangs from his eyes. The conversation starts immediately, fast-paced Korean I wont even begin to try to eavesdrop on since ya girl's extent of that language stops at small words I picked up from watching Korean dramas. While the kid seems to go into describing the shampoo, I stand there awkwardly moving my shoulders to Chris Brown's "Gimmer That". My turn to ignore him, his smell, by inconspicuously stepping away from his person.

At last he hangs up and turns to me. "The company over this brand is in the middle of changing the look of the bottle. The owner ordered more but it won't be in for another three weeks."

"Ahhh…"

"You can come back then or try something else." Grunting some, he bends over and heaves up a thick, purple bottle. "This just came in and its pretty popular. The owner recommends it, if you don't feel like waiting."

"Is the owner your father?"

His face scrunches a little, then he slowly shoots me a funny look. "Uh, yeah?"

"I'll wait," I blurt just as quickly, "but thanks for the suggestion."

"Uh huh…"

Though before he can wave me off, my lips are doing that stupid thing again. "What's your name again?"

He looks down his nose at me, reminding me in a flash of his height – that I can't stand him. "Daniel. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Not really…well if you have a business card, I'll take one…" But he's already striding off toward his post with the unspoken command of ' follow', me in heated tow.

Yeah…heated.

Daniel plucks a black card from the holder on the edge of the counter, turning to present it to me. Probably thinking I don't notice the small twitch in his hand when our fingers graze each other's when the card is passed. "Thanks," I mumble.

No reply. He hops back over to the other side of the counter, plops on his stool and positions himself how he was before. Slips out his phone to rot in front of it. Like he'd never ever left his station in the first place.

So maybe I should play pretend too.

Stomach a little queasy, I know, because of the reason he's probably trying not to follow me out with his eyes - at least in my imagination – and because I'm an incurable nutcase, I inwardly curse in sighs on my way to the car.

The card is tossed into the cupholder.

About three weeks and a day later, I find myself sitting in the car after work, eye-raping the black card like I have no good sense and feeling so tempted to just say fuck it and pull up my Amazon app. I've been telling myself, the minimal times I've kept reminding myself to go pick up the shampoo, that I'm in no hurry to go back to that store.

Well, I guess I'm only telling a half truth. I did pull up the shampoo on Amazon out of curiousity. And on Ebay. Both only sell the shampoo as package deals with these wack ass shipping fees.

I already knew I had no choice.

But how could I go back there and chance being around him? Chance saying something stupid or even racist? Cause God knows I would, with the thoughts I've had about him not "smelling" Asian and, as a matter of fact, I've never been close enough to Asians – I mean Koreans – to know if they have a smell or not. Then me wrapping up the conversation with the notion that I really needed to stop drops me back into reality.

Sucking my teeth, I pull out my phone, dial the number and put it on speaker. It rings twice, but before I lose my nerve and hang up, somebody clumsily answers.

"Hello, Fatboy's," an unfamiliar male voice says. Bright, accented and clearly not Daniel's. Indecisive on if this is good or not, I reply anyway.

"Yeah, hey, I'm calling about the Softsheen Carson shampoo? I was told it would be in by now?"

"Shampoo?"

"Yes, Softsheen Carson. Optimum Oil Therapy?"

""Ohh, sorry, I don't know. Can you hold on please?"

"Yeah."

There's a loud clatter of the phone landing on something hard, muted store music, then male Korean chatter that becomes more audible as they apparently return to the phone. I hear the other guy say something that Daniel seems to dislike judging from his sudden tone, yet is clearly amusing to his partner. The other guy's giggling still resonates as Daniel eventually picks up the receiver with a dead, "Hello?"

"Yeah, is this Daniel?"

"Speaking."

"Okay well I dunno if you remember me but I'm the one that came in looking for the Softsheen Carson shampoo-

"I remember you."

Oh…

"Y-you do?"

"I-Hyung, shut up, I can't hear. I shelved the shampoo yesterday so you can come if you want."

"What time do you close?"

"8:30."

"Ok I should make it before then."

"Uh huh."

"Thanks."

"Yep."

When the phone noisily hangs up, my mouth formed to say something else, I toss my cell to the passenger seat a little harder than necessary. Then as if on cue, my text message notification goes off.

Its my best friend asking to hang out tonight.

When I show up after work the next day, Mya still doesn't greet me. In her stead, a Korean boy clad in the Fatboy's apron with blonde hair and the deepest set of dimples I've ever seen strides over. He might as well have been floating on a cloud.

"Welcome to Fatboy's, is there something you looking for?"

And immediately I know I can vibe with this kid. He looks about Daniel's age and height, but is definitely the total opposite. Like if Daniel transformed into him on Opposite Day or something. I can't help laughing a little bit as I reply. "Yeah I came to pick up shampoo I asked about."

"Ohhh you the girl who called yesterday. What happened? Why didn't you come?"

"Oh my God," I laugh some more, a little overwhelmed and not sure if I should be mad or not that he's grilling me like this. "Something came up last night."

" Ohhh."

"Not like that!"

"Not like what?" he prods on, and this time we're both cracking up, my mood lighting up even more. Just what kind of black magic did this anti-Daniel have on me already? Even the way he spoke was really cute. Accented but a little edgy, like he had a limited time subscription in the hood if I didn't know any better.

Likewise, I kinda like that he perked up when he realized who I was.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

"Looks like you had fun, whatever it was that kept you from coming." He winks and motions for me to follow him to the shampoo aisle. Following him, I am suddenly self-conscious of what I look like. "Why you say that?"

"Cause I was there."

My eyes bug out as we stop in front of the shelves. " What? Nah, for real? Nah, nah, boy you playing. You don't even look old enough to get into the club."

"Old enough to get in, not to drink. And you just told on yourself." He chuckles next to me, zig zagging his index finger in front of the products. "See it?"

"The bottle is different, so I have to look closely…" But as I do, I try to keep my voice even and my eyes concentrated. "How old are you anyway?"

"20."

"Like Daniel?"

"Nope. He's a year younger." I shouldn't be surprised – nor should I care – but I'm floored all the same. Sweet Jesus, why. Why have I been contemplating the bodily smell of a fetus the past couple weeks? I need a long scalding shower after this, man.

Swallowing, I glance over to the front of the store, where Daniel is ringing up a group of girls in bonnets, and back to the brightly colored bottles. "Well, not too long until you can drink, huh?"

"Why? You gonna hook me up on my birthday?"

"Boy you a real flirt," I chuckle, just now realizing the angle Im bend in. Right in front of him. I straighten up quickly and turn to him rolling my eyes. "I know damn well you drink anyway."

His dimples flash with his smirk. "Don't tell nobody."

"Uh huh, okay." I go back to looking, my brow creasing a little. "Ugh, where is it?"

"What's it called again?" he asks, stooping to his haunches. We take our time going up and down the aisle, cutting up and laughing in our pursuit until I spot the shampoo and shoot up, holding it up in the air victoriously. "Yasss girl yasss," he dances, and I cover my mouth to hold back my snort. "What's your name?" he inquires out the blue, partially distracting me out of my relieved and amused vibe.

I tell him. "What about you?"

"Jooheon, but you can call me Honey," he says, swelling a little. Inching closer than necessary.

"Because of your hair?"

"Nah nah, just a nickname made from my gov'ment." My small giggle is short-lived when he grasps the bottle I'm holding, our fingertips brushing.

For some reason it reminds me of the black business card in my car, and I impulsively turn to look over my shoulder at the front counter again. The girls are still there and Daniel is…wait, is he laughing? Smiling?

"I can take it to the front for you," the boy next to me seems to purr, voice drizzling down my ear like the very nickname he was bestowed.

"What's up with him?" I murmur, and the trance Honey is in fizzles out, his tone returning to its usual teasing air.

"You mean why is he so polite all of a sudden?"

I turn back to his cat-like smirking. "Yeah, I guess."

"Customers were complaining about him being a 'bitch ass n'- rude and he had an argument with Mya last week. So his dad got on his ass." He slips the bottle from me, watching me closely but I don't know why. I guess I'm too busy digesting what he's just said. "Praise," I say, rolling my eyes as we fall into step next to each other on the way to the counter. The women seem to be milking his "improved customer service skills" dry because I can see the impatient glint in his eyes and strained grinning even from where we are. "Look how fake he is."

"Talking to the one who grew up with this dude. I've been wanting to throw up all day."

"How long you think its gonna last?"

"Till his dad gets him that drone he's been asking for."

We stand behind the small, yakking group, and when Daniel locks his piercing, SOS eyes with mine, I toss him a smug grin - which makes him promptly look away. "So he doesn't work here for the money?"

"Its punishment for his bad grades. He's stuck here all summer."

"Oh so yall go to the same university?"

Yeah. He started in spring."

In the middle of me wondering if they attend the same university I'm going to, one of the women yells something suggestive and something about Daniel being her next baby daddy, then they're all heading out. Honey instantly shoulder-dances his way up and smacks the bottle on the glass counter. "Whaddup bro. How much child support you got saved up?"

Daniel ignores him, restraining from snatching the bottle to ring it up. He pointedly looks at me. "That'll be 5.87, ma'am," he says way too courteously. Sticking my card into the slot, I have to practice restraint too. To not laugh or tsk in his face. "Where's Mya been?"

Honey snorts loudly, and after glaring at him, the dark-haired boy answers nonchalantly. "She's been busy with clients in the back. Her card is over here if you want to make an appointment-

But I'm already waving him off. "No thanks, I was just wondering."

"Why, you don't want yo hur did?" After I finish giggling and telling him to shut up, Honey casually props his bent arm on the counter. His short sleeve and the way his arm is angled alerts me to the bulging bicep I hadn't paid attention to earlier.

Naturally, I look to Daniel for a comparison, and of course he's not nearly as filled out. However, the tiny silver eyebrow piercing, painted fingernails and the faintest dash of mascara have me gaping a little. Surely all of it isn't new. Just like with Honey, I hadn't been paying attention.

So why do I feel like it wasn't meant for me to notice until now?

"…then she's going on leave cause of the baby." Honey's deep voice snaps me back to reality. "That's why I'm here."

"She's not going on leave, stupid, she's quitting," Daniel deadpans, "You can't go on leave here."

"Wait, she's not coming back? Why?"

"I dunno."

Honey's surprise abruptly turns into mischievousness. "I guess you wouldn't care. She almost beat yo ass."

"What?" I ask laughingly, facing the paling boy too. I take my card out. "From when yall argued?"

" Bag?" he asks snippily, all traces of politeness gone, and Honey and I crack up.

"No thanks."

"Hell yeah. She's pregnant as fuck too so you know she woulda rocked his skinny ass."

"Yeah, you don't mess with a pregnant lady."

"I'm say-

"Thank you for coming to Fatboy's valued customer. Have a good day and come again." Daniel then knocks his head in the direction of the chiming front door and shoots his elder friend a deadly look. "Don't you have customers to attend to?"

"Yeah, just as soon as I'm done with this one," he retorts. The dimpled, cat smile eagerly grabs my attention. "It was nice to meet you."

:You too," I say somewhat reluctantly, removing the bottle from the counter. Feeling a set of lasers burning holes through the side of my face.

Which shouldn't stop me from handing over my number and inviting Honey to hang out sometime.

But it does.

Telling them bye and heading to the exit, over Usher's "Yeah", I overhear Honey teasing Daniel in Korenglish about his breath, that his dad is going to catch him smoking one day. Daniel tells him to fuck off and the blonde boy snickers his way over to the new customers.

Unknowing of the wicked, petty little smile on my face as I step out into the afternoon heat.

Thank goodness for Korean dramas.

So its like this. Honey and Daniel are practically brothers. With the dynamic I've seen between them, its clear that 'sabotage' and 'disloyalty' play a huge part in their siblingship. That means there is nothing to stop Daniel from snitching on Honey to the owner about Honey "fraternizing with the customers" (exchanging numbers with me in front of him) because he feels some type of way. Cause lets be honest, he seems like the type.

Daniel obviously dislikes me and hates that Honey doesn't, so he would have every motive to snitch.

Right?

But I have been granted immunity, so to speak. If he tries to be slick, I'll just tell his dad I saw him smoking, that it doesn't set a "good image" for the business. Daddy-o would have no reason to not believe me. And Sonny already has priors. Simple.

"Heyyyy, you're back!"

"Whats up," I cheese as I cross the metal detectors toward the tall blonde. I don't expect him to scoop me up in a half-hug so my body freezes up a little when my cheek is mushed against his chest. "Damn," I laugh.

"Its just been so loooong."

"Cut it out, its just been a couple of days," I admonish, face burning nevertheless. Still unable to understand why he's so comfortable with me so quickly but I can't complain. I could ask the same of myself. And besides, I like it.

"So you came back to see me?" He lets me go, the fresh, concentrated, tantalizing scent of his person fading too. Sweet Jesus.

" No, I came to get something for my bestie."

"Bullshit."

"Okay yeah, I came to see you," I chuckle. "Happy?"

"For now."

Shaking my head, I slyly take my phone out and hand it to him, briefly checking that I left my Snapchat app open and checking the front to see if Daniel is aware. Figures, there he is, staring us down even with customers to check out. "Add yourself. And don't go through my pics."

His thumbs are already flying over the screen though, small laugh emitting from his throat. "If you got Instagram and Facebook, add yourself there too."

"Why are we doing this in secret?"

"For, uh, precautionary reasons."

"Well, I'll tell you now, he knows. He may be a dick, but not much gets past him. Especially when he's feeling somebody."

My throat suddenly dry, I fix Honey with an unconvincing expression of composure. When he shrugs back unbothered, I go to look at Daniel again. Rather, gawk. He's done ringing up the people in line and has reclined back on the stool to scroll on his phone. Sure enough, it only takes a millisecond for his aforementioned "antennae" to pick up on my staring and he gazes over …accusingly.

Switching back to Honey, I blow air through my teeth as he snickers softly. "No he don't…"

"Yes he do." He hands back my phone, the screen showing that he's also entered his number under "Joohoney". "I don't care either."

This is too much. I came here with a plan, thinking I was in complete control for once. Now my head is reeling. Did all Koreans live by the screenplays of their dramas? What all was I really missing?

A sound I can't even describe bubbles from my mouth, nervous as all hell. I cant help it. Closing my eyes, I cross my arms over the top of my head and exhale again. Honey is standing there confidently by the time I can stand to look at him again. "You serious?"

"I know it sounds fucked up -ok, it is. He's my boy. But I mean…he told me about you, I met you, and I just…"

"What did he say? No, nevermind. You don't have to tell me."

He appears relieved – he felt at least that bad. "If he wasn't gonna say nothing, I was." Shrugging again, he licks his lips, none too subtly eyeing me up and down. "Guess its better you made the first move."

Balling my lips, I try not to step away when he draws closer, enveloping me with his scent again. "So he like likes me."

"I can't speak for him."

"Man, yall barely know me. This makes no sense…"

"Why? You don't like Asian boys?"

"Its not that. Just…I don't know. I mean, you I kinda get. Him, it don't make no sense. He never…"

"Danny has a funny way of showing he like somebody. With you its worse since you the first black girl he ever showed interest in." In other words, separating the boys from the men. Boy you wildin. Yet in his tone, I can tell he's getting a bit tired of talking about his homeboy. Borderline frustrated, even.

So I wisely keep any further comments about it to myself, attempting to tame all of the possibilities and scenarios of "why me of all black girls" in my brain. I glance over to the boy in question, and he's still on his phone – pink lips, if I'm not mistaken, puckered into a scorned pout.

Geez.

"Don't worry," I hear Honey say sincerely, sounding 10 miles away. "We'll work it out."

" We? Work it out?"

"Yeah. Its all up to you first though."

"Hyung! Customer in lacefronts!"

We both whip our heads in Daniel's direction, startled at the younger's excessively projected voice. At his dagger gaze and gesturing head, Honey rolls his eyes. "Imma hit you up later. Don't ghost ya boy."

"I wont," I smile half-heartedly.

He offers me a quick hug, tweaks my chin, winks, and bounds off. Knowing damn well Daniel saw that exchange, I keep my eyes downcast as I head the opposite way towards the exit.

Unfortunately, I'm so absorbed in my funk, I don't see the rotating display of bejeweled, knock-off shades until its too late. "Shit!" Down goes Fraiser. My collision with the display echoes across the store, with the actual crashing of it hitting the floor echoing even louder - thankfully, not taking me with it, though I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have a bruise by the end of it all. I hear a dramatic gasp and I'm pretty sure all eyes are on me as I curse again, bending to start picking up the display and shades, hoping everything's intact.

Not even a second later, another pair of bigger, lighter hands riddled with rings are scooping up shades too, and when I look up expecting Honey and wondering how he got over to me so fast, my tongue catches in my throat.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asks lowly, gruffly. Before, I'd think he'd only be asking because he doesn't want me to sue or to get him on his dad's bad side.

As you can imagine now, I wouldn't think twice about that.

But its so ….weird.

"I'm good," I reply just as mouse-like, still scrambling to pick it all up. Flinching when he grasps one of my wrists with the reflexes of a ninja – girl really -, firm yet not enough to hurt me. In his eyes there's slight irritation, concern and….a twinge of something else that I can't identify. It makes his normally sharp gaze falter a little.

"Leave it."

"I'm sorry."

"Its fine."

"I'll pay for anything that's brok-

"Don't worry about it." We'll work it out. "Nothing's broken."

Shaking my head to clear it and balling my lips again, I make myself useful anyway and set the display upright as I stand. "Hey…"

He pauses, peering up at me.

Sigh.

What the fuck am I doing.

"You wanna chill sometime? Honey's got my number so…"

His deliberation is short yet intense, which is confusing and fills me with pockets of anxiety I haven't felt in a while. That's why when he gradually unclenches his jaw, softens his stare, goes, "I'll see," and resumes picking up the shades, I sag in relief.

Upon my quick scan of the store, I spot Honey's flabbergasted face and shrug stupidly.

True to his word, Honey does snap me not even 20 minutes after the store's closing time, and from there we start talking almost every day. He's one of those types that likes to send memes so I get bombarded with those all throughout the day, but it's a good thing that all the shit he sends is funny because I know I would normally get tired of that real quick. I also wonder if he talks to other girls like this, cause the boy is good looking. There's no way somebody like him don't have a long contact list…

Anyway, I do remember to ask if he and Daniel go to my uni, and he confirms it. Turns out that he and I are both take a summer class on Tuesday mornings so we plan to meet those days for a quick hangout or lunch.

But what's most interesting is Fatboy's oh-so charismatic cashier. Between laughing my ass off at Honey's memes, I'm dying in disbelief at how Daniel seems to be adding me bit by bit on social media. Not saying anything to me, of course, just lurking or stalking or whatever he calls it. I can only imagine the bickering and pestering he has to do with Honey to get my info: "I saw her first, man. You shouldn't even have it."

Which gets more and more surreal. My info. It still catches me off guard that he even feels this way. .

Then my best friend is all out amused that I'm "fucking around with these Asian niggas", demanding I update her with "the tea" every waking second. Somehow she and Honey end up following each other on Instagram, in which she agrees, after seeing the one pic of him shirtless, tatted, flexing and exposing them dimples in the mirror, that he got "plenty'a ho's".

It only occurs to me later that I'm intentionally not telling her much about Daniel. Today just so happens to be a Tuesday wherein Honey and I have planned to hit up the mall since I don't have work and its his day off too. For the same reasons I keep him on the low, I realize, I'm going back and forth in my head on if we should invite Daniel or not. Not so much that I would be rocking the boat with Honey, but that as much as there's been a bit a rockiness between us, and that its fun to poke the younger boy, I'm not keen on exploiting his feelings.

We'll work it out.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Better yet, did I even want to find out?

Better still, would I find out?

I guess my only saving grace is that I recall Daniel works full time, so he couldn't come anyway. Trying to push down my conflicting thoughts, I smile as Honey approaches. I'm standing in front of the entrance to the parking garage where we agreed to meet, the beaming sun trying to flambé me so I'm partially shrouded in the shade of the first level. "You look like one of those small-town, racist white cops with them shades on. Just without the ratty mustache," he remarks as he goes in for a hug but I push him back with a single finger to the chest. "You so disrespectful. I'm fly."

"You standing over here looking mean as hell though." He crushes me to his body without warning anyway, evoking a false squeal of anger. With how good he looks today in his dressed down Adidas fit, how good he feels all solid and lean against me, and the vision of his Instagram picture illustrating itself in my mind, I try not to inhale or breathe in the duration of the hug in order not to faint from his scent too – because even though his clothes are slightly damp from sweat, he still smells like a million bucks. How? I seriously don't know how long I can put up with this boy's huge presence. "I can't tell how fly you are if you look like you about to arrest me."

"Somebody should," I mumble into his chest, and he lets go tittering like a lil fool. "You ready to go?"

"Yep. Whos whip we taking?"

"Okay so about that. I was gonna ask if we could take yours. My truck is in the shop."

"Mkay," I say airily, about-facing so he can follow me to the elevator, yet his next words stop me in my tracks.

"I was also gonna ask if you could pick Danny up." He catches up with me, a glimmer of something subdued in his steady look at me. Guarded, careful, maybe gauging. "He's coming with us."

Well fuck me.

Telepathic to either my head, expression, or both, Honey rubs my shoulder with a knowing smirk. "He's being let out for good behavior for the day."

"So the only thing he thinks to do with his freedom is hang out with us?" I ask skeptically, though even as the words come flying out, I already know its an understatement. Honey does too, since his amused look faintly turns pointed. I sigh at him. "You sure this is a good idea?"

Instead of answering, he rolls his eyes, making it so now I have to follow him to the elevator. We take it to the level I'm parked, find my car and climb in. Before I set my phone up on the stand, I hand it to him so he can type in Daniel's address into the GPS. As he hands it back, he does that purring thing he likes to do. If lions purred.

"Why you smell so good?"

Without looking at him, I start the engine and begin backing out, ignoring the instant curling sensation between my legs and his once-again childish tittering. "Just turn on something we can bump to, boy."

"For real tho."

" Boy."

Daniel's house, as I get closer to it, is actually less than 10 minutes from - and on the way to - the mall we're hitting up. I also realize that the closer we get, the nicer the neighborhood becomes. This suburbia is unfamiliar territory to me, and Honey, reclined far back in his seat bobbing his head to the music, tunes in to my impressed whistles with an affirmative 'mhm'. "Yup. His dad owns two of the stores and his mom is somewhat of an heiress."

"Is that why you're his friend?"

"That's the only reason why I stay his friend," he cackles, quickly adding: "Nah but his mom and mine went to the same academy when they were kids. I had no choice but to grow up with his raggedy ass."

"Does he have siblings?"

"Yeah, older bro. He lets us use his studio sometimes."

"What, don't tell me yall do music," I scoff.

I see him do a couple of crunk arm pumps from my peripheral vision and laugh. "Yeah. Ya boy got skills."

"And Daniel?"

I expect him to spew some shit like he's better than him, but Honey shakes his head with a secretive smirk. "You know what, Imma just show you later."

My teasing groan fills the car as I turn down a street with impeccably manicured lawns, sports cars in almost every driveway and not a person of color in sight. The few people out walking their dogs or tending to the shrubbery on their property seem to all stare at once as my bucket goes by, vibrating with the bass of the hip hop music playing. Instinctively I turn it down, Honey sucking his teeth yet probably thinking better of touching the volume. "So what does his mama do?" I ask to distract myself from the Wonder Bread mania.

"Housewife."

"Must be nice…"

"Ohhh, so you one of those type of girls." At that, I toss him a sour look. "You know I'm fucking with you."

"Man, even if you wasn't, its rough out here. Shit, I wouldn't mind being taken care of at this point."

"No I feel you. If Danny's mom was single…"

"You nasty."

"Ms. Jackson if you nasty," he quotes in a bad imitation of Janet's voice, and sits up some to point to a large, one-story house on the corner with a basketball hoop in the driveway. "Its this one." I pull up alongside the street carefully, low-key coveting the candy-apple red BMW parked neatly in front of the double garage doors. "He should be coming out, I texted his ass two minutes ago," Honey yawns.

"There he is." The front door swings open and Daniel lumbers out into the sun, rays flashing off his shades. From what I've always seen, he knows how to dress, but today its like he's trying to outdo himself. He's wearing the shorts like the white boys that embodies the boushiness of his upbringing, yet the freshly ironed tee and matching kicks give his image more of a Cali boy edge. Ok, I see you Daniel…

His perpetual, underwhelming frown in place like usual, the black-haired teen strides down the terracotta pathway on the grass that bridges the front porch with the sidewalk. Honey motions for him to get in on the other side, which oddly puts a tiny lump of disappointment in my throat – with the reason why, I will avidly deny.

"Hey Daniel," I chime as he climbs in behind me, a spicy, expensive cloud pleasantly filling my car.

"Whats up. Mom says hey, Jooheon."

The blonde next to me lets out a mock cry of horror and twists his head to him with a dramatic "o" for a mouth. In response, I practically hear rather than see Daniel roll his eyes. "Whats this all about?" I snort.

"Nothing, I just like to fuck with him."

"I've never heard him call you by your name before," I press nonetheless, unthwarted. "Is he not supposed to do that? Like some cultural thing?"

"Its not a big deal," Daniel mumbles.

"Damn, how'd you know?"

"I mean, I do pay attention to things." I maneuver the car back onto the street, setting the navigation on my phone to get out of the subdivision and hit the highway. "I'm not a blockhead like some people…mhm I see you looking at me like that. Yes, you."

"He knows I only say it when we're not around family," the deep voice behind me interrupts.

"Ohhh cause you'd get in trouble if you said his name in front of them."

"Yeah."

"Gotcha." And I ball my lips, awkwardly leaving the conversation there. I feel that I'm talking to him like a baby, something I hate.

From Honey's silent bobbing to the music, his face pensive, I'm afraid he might be thinking the same thing. Only, to him, I can only assume he's neutrally assessing this tidbit, to see where it goes. If I'll play up on Daniel's interest.

A constant though subtle observation of the interaction between us anytime the younger and I are with him.

What you got up your sleeve, Jooheon?

The car ride is quiet until we get to the first light. Then Honey strikes up talk about some Instagram follower who tried to use his pics to catfish folks, and the tension melts away thankfully. The times that Daniel interjects - I can hear the low jingle from the game he's playing on his phone - is like when a unicorn treks through a big city, and I appreciate it. He's so funny the way he shuts down Honey's ego, especially when its in my favor. I'm surprised too, when he pipes up once to ask me about my education, perking up more when I tell him I like to sing.

Things get even more interesting, about half an hour later, as we're strolling through the busy, high-end mall, me sipping boba and walking between the boys like a dwarf flanked by two trees – an inverted, human Oreo drawing attention I'm not used to. We're chill, though I am keen to the energy going on in our little trio: Honey mocking me so I am provoked to mild violence - Daniel on his phone sneaking glances over at me and ever so slightly grinning at the phone like there's something funny, but I really know he's amused with Honey's taunts – the grins are too well timed with his homeboy's flirting. The moment we make a pit stop for Honey to go the bathroom, I feel this energy shift some at Daniel's very close proximity to me as we wait against the closed-off wall.

"I feel like you wanna say something," I breathe after a minute of silence.

To my shock, he gives out a soft exhale that sounds like a laugh. "Like what?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't ask."

"If you didn't know, you wouldn't be whispering."

Shit

Chancing a peep over at him, I see he is already scrutinizing me from the corner of his eye, thumb still gliding on the screen of his phone. And for once, the way he cuts his eyes at me shoots goosebumps down my arms and tremors to my core. I quickly look straight again, cross my arms and casually lift my foot up on the wall to keep from visibly squirming.

"I think you have more to say than I do," he resumes.

"Why you say that."

"You've been sighing a lot," he says as-a-matter-of-factly, "You do it in a way that you think people won't notice."

"Wow that's very…perceptive."

"I do pay attention to things."

A smile graces my lips, my lashes fluttering down in a girlish manner that's not like me at all. My gaze slithers back over to him - to find that his complete attention is on me now. Up this close, the mature shape of his face is more pronounced. Sweet baby Jesus, he is hot when he's like this. My voice can barely stay steady. "So what do you think I wanna say?" I try to sass.

His stare lingers before he utters a hushed, "I dunno," but tilts his head a little under my chin and follows it up with an even quieter, "Its more about what you wanna do."

Rosy lips moving and hovering just over mine.

My eyes squeeze shut as I stiffen, yet it isn't in anticipation. There's no way Daniel would do something so risky with Jooheon so close by. Even if he – Daniel – didn't give a damn. He wouldn't act out of character, either, since I'm sure I've been alone with him before…if I count on one hand…anyway, its only my natural reaction to an attractive guy invading my personal space.

So you can guess how stunned I become when hot lips rapidly, tentatively scoop mine, a firm, slightly scratchy chin rubbing against mine in those pair of lips pressing so fervently into me. The contrast of his chin and lips is so intense, so impressionable, that I let out a shuddery gasp into his mouth and reach up to grasp his upper arm for support. The grab continues the chain reaction, and a grunt that seems to originate from the pit of his stomach vibrates down my throat. His tongue laps deeply, demandingly into my mouth so I my gums tingle from the minty gum he'd been chewing earlier.

But just as I shamelessly give in to this "assault", eagerly working my jaws to match his passion, it is over just as quickly as it starts. Daniel gently takes my bottom lip with his teeth when he pulls away, letting it go with an inaudible pop. He unhurriedly repositions himself back on the wall, this whole-head taller, shadowy figure next to me returning to the confines of his phone, licking one full circle to savor me on his lips.

Leaving me in a crazed stupor I'm not sure on how to recover from.

"What yall talking about?" Honey booms, finally emerging from the men's room. It only takes him a sec to evaluate me though, for him to give me a sagacious, devious expression. "You lookin' shook. Did Danny say something about yo mama?"

" No." Clearing my throat, I try again, unable to keep from speaking in a blur. "I don't know what you talking about, you always got something dumb to say. Lets go."

"Damn, yes ma'am." They follow after me in the narrow hallway back to the main floor, where we resume our walking positions. Honey on my right, Daniel on my left as the certain someone who refuses to acknowledge I'm there, yet whose stony, hard line of a mouth indicates he sure does wish something could zap away the flush in his cheeks.

We had been taking unspoken turns of "leader" walking through the mall and it was Honey's turn now. As we follow, he mentions something to Daniel in their native language over my head (rude), following it up with a short cackle. Daniel mumbles back but Honey is quick to verbally wave him off. "Nah, he should be there."

"Who should be where? Where we going now?"

"Calm down, why you sound so nervous?" The blonde is clearly entertained, and definitely still harboring that same prying look from the bathroom. When I stick my tongue out at him to keep from going off, thankfully he is placated. His younger friend, of course, is not fooled. I don't say this just because I know either – I did not miss the skip in step he made at my semi-shrill questions.

We begin to enter a brightly lit, gaudily decorated jewelry store, where I am immediately tempted to hang back at the sight of a young Asian guy behind the counter talking to a customer. He is tall and good-looking like the two I'm with, hair-dyed and clothes trendy. Do all these type of Korean boys roll with each other? Where have I been that Asian boys have…evolved like this?

I did not catch him look over, yet I can tell the guy has already acknowledged our presence from the liveliness that fires up in his eyes that wasn't there before (all thanks to Honey's flailing flag-down to get his attention). He now seems impatient to get rid of the customer, to which I can only roll my eyes about on the inside. From the motion I pick up on from my side, Daniel does not resist shaking his head, sharing my sentiment. Just what I need. Another one of these punk showing out – convened in the same place.

The moment the pleasantries and farewells are over between associate and patron, new boy practically flies around the counter to slap hands with Honey and start hugging all off him. He attempts the same with Daniel, who tries to fight him off with half-hearted protests. No surprise there. "Yooooooo!"

"Ayy whats up. How long pops got you working now?"

"Man its like lockdown up in here now. You know all about that, don't you Changkun-ah?" He slaps Daniel's arm devilishly, with the boy shooting him a scowl and rubbing it as he retreats – no, gravitates – closer back to me. I giggle. "As soon as I get back from Seoul, he's like I need to do weekends now since the new girl supposedly gotta watch her sick grandma now. I told him he needs to fire her, I can see already she's gonna pull this shit a lot…" Then, as if just now remembering he heard the sound of another person there, his eyes flicker to mine…before he sizes me entirely from head to toe and grins. "Hi."

"Hey." I grasp his extended hand and shake, telling him my name and marveling at how soft and supple his hand is, yet how big and veiny it is too. Mutants I swear.

"Minhyuk. Oh, wait, you can-

"You're good, I can pronounce it."

He lets out an exaggerated noise of approval, sharing a knowing, somewhat-f-boyish look with his equally grinning friend. "So…?"

"Mmm what you so-ing about?"

"Oh so you feisty huh?"

"When need be."

Minhyuk's laugh sounds borderline pre-historic as he throws his arm around Honey's shoulder. "So how did yall meet?"

"He's trying to see if you're Jooheon's new girlfriend," an exacerbated voice blurts from my side. When I turn to him in shock, Daniel only shrugs at me. And amazingly enough, Honey is speechless, color gathering in his face. Well played. There's a split second of quiet before I erupt with a haughty laugh. "Oh really?"

" Are you?"

"We're not dating."

"Sure?"

"Okay, whats all this about. Why are you so convinced."

"You're kinda like the last girl he dated," the slim boy coos, which earns him a dirty look from Honey, the blonde ducking out from under his friend. I've never seen him like this but for some reason, I am not surprised. I could always sense a bit of sensitivity in him. " Hyung."

"Hm, So I look like your ex?"

Daniel snorts, which spikes my curiosity even more.

"Forreal," I say, crossing a narrowed gaze at all three of them.

"Why you wanna know so badly?" Minhyuk prods.

"Cause you making a big deal out of it," I retort.

"Well you thicker than her," he says, winking, going to elbow Honey. "He always going for the slim-thiccs but this time…"

"I can't remember the last time seeing a slim-thicc Asian girl."

"She wasn't Asian," Daniel's blunt tone has me heating up all over. The stare that comes with it doesn't help either.

"Slim-thicc and mixed. Ain't that right, Jooheonie?" The older boy continues to ignore Honey's sheepish silence, though. He smacks his arm. "But looks like, miss lady, ya boy is making exceptions these days."

"Pssh, yeah, well I know I'm not the only one," Honey finally manages to contribute, and although he makes to sound like he's teasing, I can tell his eyes are struggling not to flit to Daniel. Mayday.

"iIght, I get it, I get it." My palms fly up as if in surrender, beating out any response Minkyuk had. I can tell Daniel caught the hitch in Honey's voice, so I don't want him to start eyeing him too. "She was bad, ok. Then what about her personality?"

"Nah she was a bitch. She got nothing on you." So far, I can read in Minhyuk's leer.

I thought I was over it before – I sure am now. "Yall so funny," I say and change to the topic to of who exactly he is to the boys, where the uncomfortable air is fortunately blown away.

At least, mostly. I can't shake the "secret" looks they keep tossing me in the conversation like I'm an idiot who doesn't notice.

I cant shake the tingling in my lips every time Daniel's tongue flickers out to lick his own, his arm simultaneously bumping into mine.

After we leave Minhyuk, we go to the food court to grab dinner before leaving. Once we sit down at a table near the fountain, and I get through popping their hands for stealing my fries (when their fat asses clearly have their own), Honey chooses that moment to show me the "receipts" of his and Daniel's rap skills in a video they made called "Interstellar".

"Wow," I end up saying halfway through the music video, my disbelieving laughter transitioning into head-bobbing the more I listen. "This actually slaps."

"What I said." The toothpick rolls between Honey's smug lips. When he leans over to check which part I'm on, he beams -because of course, its his verse again – and starts animatedly mouthing it like the dork he is. Daniel smirks and begins to mouth his part too, and for a moment, for the first time, I can really see how tight they are despite the outward differences. Or maybe, its music that's the adhesive between them.

"So who is this kid?" Honey pauses to follow my finger tapping his iPhone screen, but Daniel beats him to it.

"That's Hyungwon. We went to the same high school."

"He's a good singer. You're all surprisingly talented, even though this music video is generic af."

The younger gives me a snort and a shrug, while Honey sucks his teeth. "We all gotta start somewhere, boo." Then he takes his headphones out my ears as he passes a sly look to Daniel and I. "Even though now you can clearly see I can rap circles around this lil boy."

"You stay instigating, Honey."

"If you gotta brag about it, you can't be as good as you think."

"Ooooo," I go, and trill: " Didn't they tell you that I was a savage." Without even slacking up on his challenging, cocky grin, Daniel meets his fist with mine.

"So yall got jokes, okay." Yet Honey trains me with a different look, crossing his arms on the table. "You really can sing, huh."

"Pssh, that? That was nothing."

"Ohhhh so you mean it gets better? Well excuse me."

"Shut up," I laugh, trying to ignore how Daniel is watching me too. "Stop embarrassing me."

"We should put you on a track-

"I am not gonna be in a music video."

"But why n-

"Who's rapping did you like more?"

Honey and I turn to the younger and slowly back away from each other – I didn't realize we were getting so face-to-face in the conversation. "Huh?"

"You heard me," Daniel says evenly, and I swear, I swear, he meant to add 'woman' at the end of that, but that could be me just tweaking.

"Why you going back to that all out the blue?" Honey says it teasingly…and I know better.

Apparently, Daniel does too. He cracks a smile at his friend, all teeth with a hint of fang, not even saying anything. Whether it freaks me out because of how stunning it is or how scary it is, I can't tell you.

I'm ready to go home.

"Well…I guess inquiring minds want to know." Honey smoothly takes his phone back from me, and without something to hold on to, suddenly I feel like I'm about to ascend to glory. "And you can't say we're both good. You know what we mean."

Of course you want to know too. Cause you like stirring the gotdamn pot!

"Better yet," Daniel tags on, seeming to enjoy the debacle going on in my head. "Maybe we should do categories and overall. Judge by flow, lyrics…voice."

Oh no yall didn't….not today Satan.

Blowing my lips, I lounge back in my chair with my arms folded. "You really want me to be honest."

Silence.

"Okay then…flow is a tie, lyrics go to Honey, voice goes to Daniel and overall…I have to give it to…"

Silence ensues again for a while, intercepted only with Jooheon's slick comments about this "not being the SATs" and "nobody feelings will get hurt – well I cant entirely speak for Danny."

But with the way Daniel stares at me, its like he's waiting for more than one answer. The one I say and the one he'll conclude from my answer. It is like taking the SATs. I feel tested like a motherfucker and I don't even know on what, though I somehow know I'm about to disappoint him on both levels big time – without being able to stop it, like Im in a semi with no breaks. And I am starting to suspect that music isn't the only thing that keeps these two so tight:

Manipulation. Mind games. Set ups.

All orchestrated by oh-so-clairvoyant Korean boys who already know my answers before I do.

With the canary feathers poking out from between his teeth, simper on his lips, Daniel draws up from the table, disrupting the quiet again. "Gonna take a leak."

Honey and I watch his retreating backside for a few moments, time in which I try to dismiss how unsettled my full stomach is all of a sudden by changing the subject and disclosing that I don't like Minhyuk too much. Before I can open my mouth, however, Honey's low voice drifts over like a haunted mist.

"I saw you, you know."

I turn to him, vexed. "You'll have to be more specific, sweetie."

He matches my tone, the glint in his eyes noticeably harsher. "I saw him mouth-fucking you."

"So you really stood there behind the wall and watched."

"Sure," he chuckles. "But there's no need to get so defensive. I'm not mad-

"-I don't care about you being ma-

"-and you looked like you were enjoying yourself. I have to confess, I did too." Honey licks his lips, that irresistible smirk holding me hostage and his voice dropping even more. "I didn't hear any complaining." He gets up to collect our trays, still eyeing me. "How you're feeling right now, I can only imagine what its like."

"And why do you say that," I say through my teeth, my insides clenching and knotting for various reasons.

"Because had your last answer been me, you would have said so."

Our gazes linger for just a second, mine about to droop in defeat if it weren't for my pride. "What did you say you're majoring in again?" I ask plainly.

"Psychology."

He winks and heads towards the trashcan, leaving me to groan so loudly, the family next to us glances over in alarm.

I'd do myself a favor by not asking Daniel the same, and instead, asking if he has Pepto Bismol when I drop him off.