“Jokes like those are unappreciated.”

She scowled. Correction, he was Mr. I-get-what-I-want-when-I-want-especially-girls.

“And you’re not getting the seat.”

He shrugged and pulled out the seat next to her and put both his legs up on the desk. She looked at him in disbelief. Any remnant of peace she felt by the window before he showed up and talked to her was gone.

The grrk sound of the chair against the floor was suddenly grating to the ear.

* * *

“Please pair up with your seat partner. You can find a detailed breakdown of deadlines for the rest of the semester in your syllabus.”

Byul gasped at what the professor said, her chin slipping off her hand. The smug look in Troy’s eyes was palpable in her peripheral vision. She kicked herself for choosing this seat out of all the open ones. But she was still glad she didn’t get up when he told her to. She wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, and even if though that decision came back to bite her, it was a consequence she was willing to live through.

Doing a semester-long project with him joined at the hip was certainly not a consequence she was expecting.

‘If I have to see him long-term, better not make this awkward.’

Byul thought. She would be the bigger person at this good-for-nothing who thought he could get away with being a jackass just because he was hot.

“Looking forward to working with you.”

Suppressing her desire to be passive-aggressive, she turned her face to Troy and said with her most polite-girl voice.

“Uh-huh.”

He dismissed her, leaning further back in his chair.

She screamed on the inside. That’s it. No more nice girl.

* * *

Byul stepped away from the line at the cold-pressed juice shop to feel her Achilles heel. The Anna Sui sandals were digging into the backs of her feet, right where she found the pressure bothersome. Or, to be more accurate, started to find it bothersome after her car accident.

“Hi, what can I get you.”

The juicer addressed her anyway. The two people who were before her in the line looked back in confusion.

“I think they were next.”

Byul said with a smile, putting her foot back down. She signed the two to go ahead with their order. The juicer nudged the cashier who turned his attention to Byul as well, and they exchanged a look. The two people ahead of her clocked it.

“That’s okay, you go first.”

One of them said, although with clear annoyance in her eyes.

‘Great,’ she thought. The shop was right across the street from one of her campuses, and the juicers clearly recognized her as the influencer girl in their class who almost died and came back. Which was probably staged for attention. She was a thing to look at and talk about now more than ever.

“I appreciate that. Just this. Thank you.”

Trying to make the situation pass as quickly as possible, she passed the two people ahead of her in line and placed the bottle of apple ginger lemon cayenne juice she took from the grab-and-go section onto the counter. The juicer continued staring at her face instead of scanning the barcode. His eyes were full of the kind of uncomfortable glimmer of someone who knew you when you didn’t know them. Someone who was waiting for you to mess up. Someone who would run to their friends and tell them all about who they just saw and how much uglier and fatter she is in person.

“Just this, please.”

She said again with a bit of an awkward smile, in case he didn’t hear her. Though she knew he didn’t really not hear her.

“Okay, okay.”

He put both his hands up as if Byul cornered him. She sighed internally. She could practically see the posts complaining how rude she is to people in the service industry.

She felt the desire to run into a bathroom stall, lock the door, raise her feet up onto the toilet, and wait until lunchtime was over. It was like she was in elementary school again.

Pacing quickly out of the shop with her pressed juice, she eyed for a street that had the least number of people. Finally, when she turned a corner into a dead end with nothing and no one but a dumpster, she stopped and chucked the plastic bottle in her hand directly into it. The stench of the dumpster would have made anyone wrinkle their nose, but Byul was taking in short and quick breaths, trying to calm herself down.

Leaning her back against the rough, brick wall, she opened the doggy monitor app on her phone. Tapping through the different lenses until - there he was. Her small floofball. He was just jumping onto her bed that she had neatly made that morning, burrowing into the covers. He was standing firm on his stumpy back feet, using his two front paws to dig into her bed until the sheets piled up into a mountain. Byul watched with loving eyes as he laid sideways amongst the now-bunched up covers, stretching his limbs smack in the middle of her bed.

When she had all-day plans and she couldn’t bring him with her, Veggie would stay back and roam her apartment like he owned it. Because he did. The apartment was Byul’s, and she was Veggie’s. It all belonged to him. She watched the live video footage for a few more minutes. Veggie had started dozing off, his stomach rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Finally, she inhaled deep and released an deeper exhale. It was long overdue.

She could just leave. Skip that last class and go back home where her dearest Veggie was waiting. But she shook her head.

‘That’s not what Veggie would want.’

She had to be someone Veggie would be proud of. Going to class was a simple enough deed if her reward was her beloved puppy’s adoration, even if it was mostly in her head.

Besides, she had further arrangements after class. Not one she would have preferred, but one she was obligated to. 

Troy. Big, freaking, Troy.

* * *

The sun was going down over the campus. The steel-and-glass buildings of the Computer Science department casted long shadows on the ground. In the student parking lot across from them, Byul stood leaning on the driver’s side door of her Tesla.

“Why isn’t he answering?”

She grumbled to herself with her arms crossed.

Hey

Are you even getting these?

For god’s sake

She sent another text, impatiently tapping her fingers. Her nails clacked against the phone screen louder than they normally did.

Home address. Now.

Click “send.” The swoosh sound of the text bubble flying across to wherever the hell he was. Her and Troy had agreed to figure out a plan for their group project after both their classes for the day were over, her reluctantly handing over her phone number. She was already thinking of potential project topics, bare bone structure, meeting deadlines, and more. He had suggested meeting at his place which was supposedly nearby, but hadn’t given her the address yet.

“That’s personal information.”

“Ack!”

She nearly dropped her phone, startled. Troy had sneaked up next to her and spoke directly into her ear.

“What?”

She stepped to the right away from him, covering her ear.

“My address. That information’s privy.”

“I’m gonna know it anyways once I get there.”

“Pass.”

He shrugged. The setting sunlight reflected off the visor of the motorcycle helmet he was holding between his arm and waist. ‘Of course he drives a motorcycle,’ she thought.

“What’s the plan then, I’m gonna car chase you around town like a cop?”

She said, unimpressed.

Without answering, he threw the helmet at her. She instinctively raised both arms to - barely - catch it, and looked at the thing in her hands like it was a dead rat. It was much heavier than it looked.

“Why are you giving me this for?”

“After you.”

He said with a smirk, pointing to the Harley Davidson he had driven in to the parking lot.

“No thanks, I can drive myself.”

“Just get on.”

He slid the helmet onto her head, as if he was expecting that answer.

“Hey!”

Before she could protest for much longer, he lifted her by the waist onto the seat. Without even a reminder to hold on tight, he hopped on himself and revved the motorcycle. Byul felt the hot air exploding out of the exhaust pipe on her shins, and raised her legs with a gasp. As the wheels kicked off the ground, she had no choice but to wrap her arms around him.

For a moment, she worried about her car. She hadn’t registered for overnight parking. Was anyone going to notice? Was it going to get towed? Trashed by the kids who snuck in at night?

The motorcycle picked up speed as Troy tightened his grip on the handle. Byul’s eyes trickled down to the motion of his gloved hands. They were accelerating up the ramp onto the freeway. The engine roared as Troy maneuvered between cars at a speed Byul had never experienced in her car. She didn't have to look back to realize she was what felt like eons away from her car, the parking lot, the school - and everything else she had been dreading for the day.

Godspeed.

To be continued...