A PLAN FOR LOVE ✓

twenty seven : yeonjun

I toss my thing is my bag and lean back to inspect my face in the bathroom mirror one last time, exhaling slowly as I wrap my fingers around the cool porcelain sink. I bounce my leg up and down as I stare at my reflection, turning my head left and right and left again, my fingers running through my hair, trying to get it to fall just right.

Am I… nervous?

“It’s roller-skating, Yeonjun. How hard could it be?” I snort and pluck my phone off the counter. The screen lights up with a text from Beomgyu, letting me know he’s waiting outside.

I grab my wallet and keys from my bedroom and head down the stairs, slipping my arms into my faded-blue denim jacket along the way. I stop short when I push open the door to see Beomgyu leaning against his car. He’s wearing the Levi’s jeans and formfitting white T-shirt we bought together, along with a black-and-yellow checkered flannel that’s top on his shirt. His hair slightly catches the breeze like we’re smack in the middle of a movie instead of standing on one of the grossest streets in Seoul.

“Shit,” he says, pushing off the car and looking down at his outfit, his brow furrowing. “Did I screw it up?”

“No. You just… look… you look… really pretty,” I manage to get out, looking at the way the jeans accentuate the curve of his hips.

Beomgyu’s hips, I remind myself, and pull my eyes quickly away.

His head swings up in surprise. I clear my throat, hurriedly course-correcting. “You know, like, objectively, of course. That’s what Taehyun will say anyway.”

“Oh,” he says. The both of us just stare at each other.

Say something, Yeonjun. Why am I so tongue-tied? Who am I?

I scratch my neck and point at the car door. “We should…”

“Right! Yeah.” He fumbles with his keys and unlocks the car door with a beep before he pulls it open and motions for me to get inside.

“So chivalrous,” I tease as I slide past him.

He rolls his eyes, but the tension breaks like I hoped. “Honestly, Yeonjun, get in before I slam the door on you.”

We both laugh as he jogs around the front and gets into the driver’s seat. The radio hums to life as we pull off down the road. The drive to the roller-skating rink takes us on a scenic view of Seoul, the city skyline illuminated in the golden light of the setting sun.

It’s no Ansan, but… it’s actually kind of nice. Beautiful, even, this city I’ve escaped to. I crane my neck to gaze out the car window at it until it fades from view, the highway taking its place.

“Conversation topics,” I say as we drive. “What are you thinking?”

Beomgyu shrugs, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Right. I’ve got a bunch. I was thinking I’d start by asking him about bio class. Follow it up with some rugby talk. Maybe just… see how his day is going?”

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “But especially that last one. People love to talk about themselves.”

Beomgyu shoots me a look, one of his eyebrows rising. “Tell me about it.”

I grin. “Whatever he starts talking about, ask follow-up questions. Build a conversation off that. It’ll show you’re listening to what he’s saying, and there’s nothing better than feeling like you’re being heard.”

Beomgyu nods, taking it all in.

When we arrive twenty minutes later, the rink is surprisingly packed. The smell of old carpet, feet, and whatever greasy food the concession stand is churning out fills my nose, and I’m relieved the lights are dim except for the glittering silver disco ball in the center of the rink, because I’m pretty sure this place should never see the light of day.