BAO KWAK'S POV:

That was accidental.

It was not on purpose.

You think I would do that on purpose?

You're wrong.

You don't know me.

At.

All.

She started it. It's not my fault.

She's my friend.

. . . Right?

Me, being the over-thinker I am, just freaks out.

She smiles at me.

"So?" She chirps. "How was it?"

I gulp. " . . . How was what? Oh—it was good. I mean—! Oops, well I—" she laughs.

"You big dummy." She jokes. "Come with me."

She guides me and her hand clutches mine.

Down the stairs.

Into the kitchen.

Into the . . . basement?

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, concerned. She glares at me jokingly.

"To the torture room!" She howls. I narrow my eyes. I don't believe her, it's not that. I just am skeptical of what she's doing. What is she doing?

A small soccer-table, I forget what it's called, is on the basement floor! What a cozy room, too. She has snack drawers and bean-bags and a television.

"Hell yeah!" I exclaim. She laughs. She asks me if I want to play and I nod. She asks the white team and I take the red team.

***

She looks at me with an affectionate glow in her eyes. Her face is red yet calm. I look at her slowly.

"Ae-cha," I start, "why do you keep inviting me over?"

She stops fiddling with the pool table. "Because I love you." She replies. I blush.

I pull her in and kiss her on the lips. "Good."