Pricked

5

The door is wide open, the windows are too and after I open the car door, I hear loud violin leaks out of both. I turn to my father and sigh, deeply.

"Be brave." He smiles, and we both turn to get out of the car.
We grab the heavy cardboard containers, and begin to move them in. I see a large speaker on the kitchen floor, the source of the music. Suddenly a loud drilling noise erupts from the living room. I look through the small opening and see Namjoon drilling in what I realize are curtain rods, with the help of his father. My father leans closer to me, and whispers "he's handy! Very good don't you think?" I make a point to roll my eyes and we share a smirk. Mr Kim looks over at us and smiles. He pokes his son, and I watch Namjoons face light up, and then quickly fall. Didn't have to seem so disappointed.
"Which room's yours?" I ask coldly, and he furrows his brows.

"Oh the upstairs one, facing the driveway." He says, smiles to himself and goes back to drilling. That probably means it's impolite for me to take the main bedroom. Because we're going to be expected to share it, and make it our room soon.

'Be brave' I remind myself and nod, turning curtly to go up the stairs. With each step I take I can feel the rift between us growing. Our fathers shake hands and chit chat downstairs, but as I reach the top of the stairs all I want is for this to be over. I want to turn around. All I can think, as I open the door to my new room, is that all I want is to be back in my room, my space, be somewhere that's mine.

Until I don't. I see the view from the window and automatically feel more at ease. I see our backyard, and then behind it there is a beautiful small pond, with benches and beautiful dogwood trees growing too. I assume when it's warmer more plants will grow, and it'll look lovely. I stand there for another moment, to take in how nice this park behind our house is. Maybe it's not only mine, but it's small, and private, and enough. This will be enough. I set down the box, and realize I have no shelves, or a desk or drawers to put things in. My dad walks in and seems to realize the errors of our ways too. He shrugs, smiles and after putting down his box, leads the way down to the car to get more.

On our way back up, he pauses and sees all the wood on the floor by the Kim's.

"Where are all these selves for?" He points and Namjoons fathers smiles. "Her room, his room, the bathroom, wherever!" He makes a big gesture out and Namjoons smiles as he begins to install the tv stand. "He lived on his own for school, so he has most things you'll need." He says to me,
"Most people try to be prepared. At least the smart ones" Namjoon snickers and glances over to me. I glare at him, and feel the tips of my ears get hot. He pauses and turns to watch me seethe, and I feel other eyes on me too. I hurry back to my room, as a means to escape.

I hear a soft slap, like someone being slapped upside the head.

Mr Kims voice carries up the stairs. "Don't be mean to her! It's unfair to-" I shut the door and take five deep breaths. He's right. I should have been more prepared, but he didn't have to put me on blast like that! Infront of his father too! I paced around my room, counting the steps in sets of five as I did. When the door clicked open I assumed it was my father so I did another round until I realized Namjoon was standing in my doorway.

I fall flat on my face, and he scrambles to help me up. I make a point too avoid his hand, and as I stand I take a step back.
"Why are you here?"
"To apologize." I stare at him for a moment,

"This is where you would apologize." I narrow my eyes and something odd lights up in his.

"This is where you tell me it's fine, because you know it was just a joke." He leans towards me, and instinctively I back up, and flatten my palms against the wall.

"Isn't it only a joke if someone thinks it's funny?" I raise an eyebrow and I notice the corners of his lips lifting up slightly.

No. Don't think of his lips.

"Beauty's in the eye of the beholder isn't it?" He takes another step closer.

"That's about art. A bad joke is not art." I have to tilt my head up slightly to properly look him in the eye.

"Then what is art?" He crosses his arms and puts his weight on his back foot.

"Something beautiful."

"Then if I think of something beautiful, does that make it art?" At that he looks me up and down, and I feel scandalously clad in my sweats.

"Depends on how good you are at judging how beautiful something is."

"Oh I'm very good at that." He almost coos. I realize he's not even an arms length away from me.

"Judging people?" I try to keep it playful, try to dissolve the unholy amount of tension between us.

"Knowing what's beautiful."

There is a right and a wrong answer here. There is the moment I ask 'like what?' and he says 'like you' and then we will do all sorts of terrible things on my empty bedroom floor, while our fathers are downstairs and the door is open. Or there is when I turn, walk past him, and grab another box from downstairs.

This seems so rehearsed, so prepared, that with a proper moment of thought I know what's really happening. He is playing me like every other girl, every other notch in his bedpost. And after I become one of them, what happens?

I brush past him wordlessly and quickly go downstairs.

He brushes past me as I turn to walk back up and the difference in his attitude is almost visible. He makes a point not to bump into me as I walk, and avoids eye contact. Is this how it's going to be? Hot and cold? God, I need to get out of here.

Once my bed, desk, and the kitchen table are assembled, we order delivery, and the four of us eat with cheap wooden chopsticks, out of small white containers.

"Glamourous first meal huh?" I say to no one in particular, hoping to break the silence. Both fathers laugh but Namjoon just makes a noncommittal grunt. So what if the first trick he tries on me doesn't work? Why is he being so cold out of nowhere? I glance up at him to see him staring at me. He doesn't even look away.

Such a prick.