The Rich Man's Crochet Club

Chapter 11

Cut to the hallway outside Namjoon's Shakespearian Tragedy classroom.

Students stream by on all sides, jostling one another in their haste to reach the next lecture. Namjoon stands outside the bathroom, nervously filling his water bottle and trying hard to listen to Seokjin.

"But what if she says no?" he interjects, looking up.

Seokjin stops talking, mid-way through his sentence. "She won't say no," he responds, scoffing. "I mean, look at you! You've got boyfriend material written all over you – mostly because you're wearing Taehyung's sweater but hey, you do what you can."

"Right," nods Namjoon, glancing at his classroom door. He did not see you enter, but there is another door on the opposite side. "What should I say to her, though? What should I do?"

Clapping both hands on his shoulders, Seokjin turns Namjoon to face him. "Dude," he says, serious for once. "You're thinking about this too much. You like her, right? She's easy to talk to, right? Just go in there and do that, and everything will be fine."

"Okay," Namjoon exhales, nodding to himself. "You're right."

"Of course, I'm right," responds Seokjin, slapping Namjoon on the ass when he leaves. "Go get 'em!"

Shooting Seokjin a glare, Namjoon enters his classroom. Professor Ridley is at the front, but you are not, and Namjoon enters the row with a sigh, settling into a chair. Pulling free his notebook, Namjoon flips through the pages. His screenplay continues to elude him, no matter how hard he tries. Perhaps it is because Namjoon's own current crisis has no clear resolution. How, exactly, can Namjoon solve fictional Namjoon's virginity, when he cannot even solve his?

"Hey," you exhale, sliding into your seat. Tossing hair over your shoulder, you lower your bag to the ground. "Thanks for your help on the homework the other day."

"No problem," Namjoon responds, twirling his pen in his grasp.

All around you, the tables are filling with chattering students. Namjoon should ask you out now, before the Professor begins lecturing but now that you have arrived, his words remain frozen. Staring at the front of the classroom, Namjoon runs through all the suggestions Seokjin gave him – and then something Jimin says comes to mind.

He needs to stop trying what works for other people and focus instead, on what works for himself.

Namjoon turns. "Do you have plans this weekend, Y/N?" he asks, trying to keep his voice even. "Or did you become inspired by my Marie Kondo-ing?"

Glancing upwards, you smile. "Well, that would be plans, wouldn't it? Great ones, but no," you confess, looking at him curiously. "I don't really have plans. Why?"

Namjoon exhales. You saying this eliminates one answer you could possibly give him – now, you cannot pretend to be busy when Namjoon asks you out. "I was wondering," he starts, before he comes to a stop. "I, uh, my friend Hoseok is throwing a party Friday night. You should come."

"Oh," you blink, somewhat taken aback. "I didn't think you were into parties."

It is not a yes or a no and somehow, Namjoon feels he has wandered into a trap. "I'm not, really," he responds, then winces. If you like parties, perhaps you think he is insulting them. "I mean – they're fine. I just don't go to them often."

The corner of your lip twitches, as though you hold back a smile. "Ah, okay," you nod.

"Anyways," Namjoon continues, clearing his throat. "I don't normally go to these things. I was thinking, though... maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if you were there."

Your eyebrows shoot up and Namjoon's heart starts to race, wondering if he has blown it. It would be very hard to misread his intentions now. He wants you there. He thinks the party would be fun with you there. He wants to go if you go, as well.

Staring, you dip your head in a nod. "I – okay," you breathe, barely audible. "I'll go, then. I wouldn't want you to be bored."

You pull away to face forward and Namjoon nearly loses his cool. It is not a date, he reminds himself. It is only a party which you have agreed to attend but still – a strange sort of buzz travels over his skin. He will see you Friday, outside of class and you do not want him to be bored.

It is a start, at least.

Namjoon grins, unable to help himself. The rest of the lecture, he is far too aware of you sitting beside him. Every time you shift in your chair, he inhales. Each time you lean forward, he holds his breath until you lean back. He is hyper-fixated, to the point where Namjoon takes zero notes the entirety of class. This has never happened before and, somewhat dazed, he looks down at the end to find his notebook completely devoid of writing.

"See you Friday," you say, interrupting his thoughts. You stand from your seat, shooting him a dazzling smile before regrouping with your friends, waiting to walk out the door.

Namjoon cannot help but stare at you, wondering if it is just his imagination, or if you are being deliberately coy. You arch your back while you wait, stretching the front your shirt and Namjoon gulps in response, crossing his legs. Fucking shit, he cannot pop a boner in class. Fighting the urge, Namjoon closes his eyes to think of something not sexy. Grandma, grandma, grandma, he chants to himself until your retreating backside has gone and Namjoon can breathe in relief.

Sinking low in his chair, Namjoon feels as though he has just run a marathon. His phone chimes.