A PLAN FOR LOVE ✓

twenty six : beomgyu

Still floating from watching Taehyun kick some absolute ass on the rugby pitch yesterday, I follow the groups of students across the quad until I catch sight of mini street fair. I can already smell the food cooking as I walk through the grass, getting a peek of a woman dangling from two long ribbons of fabric attached to a pole fifteen feet above the ground right in front of the Cathedral.

There’s an ocean of sweaty students, all stuffed into picnic tables set up in the middle of the street. There are about thirty white tents on either side of them, giving out free samples and selling art. On the opposite end of the street, the food vendors are lined up along the wooden barriers blocking traffic from coming through.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I raise it to find my mom calling for the second time today. I talked to her for a couple of minutes this morning, but she started asking all kinds of questions about Taehyun and whether we had “linked up” yet. It’s like she thinks that’s the only reason I could be busy.

Then I tried to switch topics, to tell her about the food trucks on campus, but that didn’t go so well either. After I mentioned Bulgogi Boyz would be here, I could practically hear her curling her lip up as she told me to be careful what I ordered, since “you never know what they put in that stuff.”

What a fucked-up thing to say. Not that I haven’t heard it from her before. My blood was practically boiling under my skin, so I ended the conversation pretty quickly. And I’m not about to go for round two, so I send her straight to voicemail.

I head toward the food vendors, where the crowd is much thinner. I’m not here for whatever is in the tents or to watch a woman twist herself around on a couple of ribbons. I’m just here to see…

That.

Yeonjun hangs out the window of a black food truck at the back of the line, the generator growling loudly as it struggles to power everything. They’re not very busy, only a couple of people waiting in line to order.

When he told me his food truck was working Bigelow Bash today, I had to see it for myself. Plus, he promised he could score me a free cheesesteak if I came at closing time.

I’m five minutes early, so I grab a seat off to the side on the curb to watch Yeonjun work.

There’s something about seeing him serve the public that makes me chuckle.

I mean, I wasn’t expecting anything glamorous, but it looks like it’s… actually pretty tough. From the sweat beading Yeonjun’s face, I’d say it’s even hotter than it looks in there.

And then there’s his boss, who looks a little rougher around the edges than he let on. I watch him hop down off the back of the truck, light up a cigarette, and basically shotgun his secondhand smoke right into the face of a customer who just picked up his food.

I look back at Yeonjun, who has a very fake customer service smile plastered on, and grin. The customers probably don’t know it’s fake, but I do. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading him the last few weeks. I watch as he takes an upperclassman’s order at the window, asking for his first name along with it. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and hands over some cash for the order.

“Well, you’ve got my name. You want my number, too, babe?” he asks, grabbing on to his oversize belt buckle like he’s the campus sheriff.

I wait for him to flirt with him. But instead, he drops the phony smile, giving him an almost despondent look that I’ve seen only once before.

It’s the way he looked at me before rugby tryouts, when he talked about how people treat him like a “bimbo” because he looks the way he does. I’ve never given much thought to how people thinking you’re hot could possibly be a negative, but… clearly it can suck around assholes like this. Or even not total assholes. I jumped to conclusions about him, which, after seeing this… makes me feel even crappier. I didn’t treat him much better than Belt Buckle is.