MINJAE

She really hasn’t changed.

Different in small ways—sure. I noticed a few weeks ago when I stepped into the cafe. But climbing out of windows? That, unfortunately, is all too familiar.

I’d been walking around the side of the house, hoping nothing had changed this time, when I saw her. A bedsheet rope, knotted sloppily, dangling out of a second-story window. A second later, she slipped.

And then—

Impact.

My back hits the ground hard. My breath leaves my lungs. Her leg is bent between mine in an awkward position. It takes all of my strength–both emotional and physical–to not blush. 

She doesn’t move. I don’t either.

I’m not sure if I should say something, or let her pretend this never happened. That would probably be her first choice.

“Miss Yoo,” I say finally, voice flat. “Care to explain what exactly you were doing climbing out of your bedroom window?”

No response. I can feel her freeze up, still facedown on my chest.

“…Hi,” she mutters after a beat.

I stare up at the sky.

“Hi,” I reply. “Are you going to get off me, or should I call the police for harassment?”

That gets her moving. She scrambles off me, muttering under her breath. I stand up slowly, brushing grass off my blazer. It’s my favorite suit. Of course. 

But I would shred all of my suits if it meant she was safe and happy.

She avoids looking at me.

I hold out a hand. “Are you alright?”

She hesitates, then takes it.

Her hand is smaller than I remember. Or maybe my memory's playing tricks on me. It doesn’t really matter. I pull her to her feet, imagining standing there, hand-in-hand, and staring into each other’s eyes like in those cheesy dramas my father watches. 

 I turn and walk toward the front of the house, my face red.

Behind me, she stumbles, then calls out, “I was thinking, maybe we could continue the blind date from befo—”

“I’m busy,” I say without stopping.

She doesn’t stop either. “Oh, right. Totally. In that case, rain check?”

“Work doesn’t stop when it rains,” I mutter, not even sure why I said that.

A beat of silence. 

Then I hear her trip. Over nothing. Typical Sera. 

I don’t look back right away, tugging open the car door. What was I doing? Leaving her just because I was flustered? 

I turn, resting my arm on the roof of the car like I’d seen people do in commercials. Looking a little cool wouldn’t harm anyone, would it? 

“Ms. Yoo.”

 “What.” She snaps.

“Get in.”