Minho's house is just a regular one, in a neighborhood. Not extremely big but definitely not small.

Also, backpacking on that motorcycle was scary as hell. Every time he made a turn, I thought I was going to fly off. It only made me hold him tighter, which I hate myself for doing.

Minho reaches forward to unlock the door, but before he can, it's already thrown open, and then he suddenly disappears between someone's arms.

I recognize it's a woman by the looks of the red nails, female hands and arms, and the long, brown waves that come to her waist. Reminds me of Amina's hair, though Amina isn't as tall.

"Mom," Minho hisses. I can recall the embarrassment in his voice. "I brought someone."

"Minho," she hisses back, but sarcastically. "I haven't seen you in what? Three weeks? You're my son! Allow me to miss you, please."

She hugs him for a few more seconds. I patiently wait. Seeing Minho getting embarrassed, but also appreciated, satisfies me.

"Who's this person you brought?" His mother lets go of him and looks at me.

Oh, wow. I can confirm who Minho got his beauty from.

She's wearing a black dress. It's not revealing, but I can still see some perfect curves. I can't scan any wrinkles in her face, neither does it look like she has Botox. Mascara, lipstick, and a bit of eyeliner are all the makeup I can see on her pretty face. The hair I mentioned? It's shiny and well-done.

We're clearly done inspecting each other when she makes some kind of jump as she lets some kind of squeal out. "I knew you'd get a girlfriend anytime soon!"

My face fades into a complete red color.

"What? Mom, no. She's not my girlfriend."

She crosses her arms. "Then what is she?"

"Lelia's... Newt's friend's, no, Newt's crush's little sister."

She scoffs at her son before turning to me, holding out her slim hand. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you. Just call me Jennifer."

"Lelia." I smile at her.

Jennifer turns to her son. "Why did you bring Newt's crush's little sister? Finally fulfilling my dream of having a daughter?"

"She wanted to taste your food."

"You told me I could come taste your mom's food," I correct. What he said sounds greedy.

"Well, you'll still allow me to do your hair and nails, right?" Jennifer's eyes light up. "I've always wished for a daughter."

Minho lets go of a breath. "Thanks for the reminder, Mom."

"I'll show you his baby photos. Has he ever mentioned I put colorful clips in his hair and that he agreed to wearing princess dresses?"

"Mom, please—"

I grin. "I'll gladly see those pictures."

"Awesome!" Jennifer leads me inside the house by resting her hand on the small of my back. "Minho, close the door, would you? Thanks, love. Okay, come on. I still got some cookies left to eat before dinner. Hiram won't mind."

The house has white walls. Most of the furniture is black, and the counters have a marble pattern. Makes it looks chic and rich, yet not cold, because there's still pictures and paintings.

"Okay. There you go." She gives me one of the chocolate chip cookies. "Feel free to sit down. Minho, I thought I taught you to scoot chairs backwards for women. Not nice to let them stand."

"She can't stand me," he points out.

"Understandable." She sits down across from me. "How's the cookie?"

"Absolutely amazing," I compliment.

Triumphant, Jennifer looks at Minho. "See? Compliment the baked and don't be ungrateful. Can I adopt you, Lelia?"

"If I get more cookies."

"Deal."

☀︎︎

Jennifer from then on takes all my time in, but I don't mind. It only took an hour of eating more cookies and gossiping about all the boys in the friend group for me to realize that's she's basically the mom I never had, no matter how cliche that sounds.

Eventually, I hear the door fall closed, and Jennifer explains that must be Hiram, her husband and Minho's father.

"Hello," he greets. I turn my head to look at him.

Literally an older version of Minho.

Then he sees me, too. "Oh, hi!" He repeats with some more emotion. "And who might this guest be?"

"Newt's crush's little sister," Jennifer mimics.

A laugh leaves my mouth as I get up to shake his hand. "Lelia Blake, sir. Dumb story, but Minho said his mother is good at baking, so I asked if I could try her food sometime, and then he invited me over."

"Good at baking she is. And just call me Hiram." He lets go of my hand, places a kiss on his wife's lips, and then sits down beside her. "And is my son here, too?"

"Upstairs," Jennifer says. "I'm not going to be the one to try to get him out of his bed for dinner."

"He'll get out of bed for your delicious meals. Otherwise, something went very wrong with creating him."

I have to hold back a laugh. As long as Minho isn't genuinely hurt by all these comments, they're pretty funny. And cheesy.

"What is it that you're making today?"

Jennifer looks up at Hiram. Just by watching their eyes, I can see they're crazy in love. "What would you like?"

"As I said, anything will be delicious." He looks at me. "Lelia, what do you like?"

"It really doesn't matter," I say. "I'm sure I'll like it."

Hiram walks back into the hallway. I can hear him yell what Minho wants for dinner, but I can't hear Minho's reply.

"Well?" Jennifer raises an eyebrow once Hiram is back.

"He wants to order pizza," he says dryly.

Typical.

"I'll make pizza," Jennifer decides, getting up. "Any specific toppings y'all like?"

"Do you have pesto and mozzarella?"

"Always."

"Then that, please." I smile another time.

Usually, I hate adults. But Minho's parents are nice. Plus, it would be rude if I'd start misbehaving in their house.

"So." Hiram sits back down in front of me. "Is Minho the friend of your brother's friend, 'just a friend', your boyfriend, or what?"

"Uhm." I try to hate him. Doesn't always work, but I try to. Not very hard because he's annoying as hell, but also very attractive and funny and can be understanding. So yeah, I kind of hate your son, sir. "None of that... I don't know. We're not the nicest to each other. It surprised me he even invited me over."

"Well, nice or not, you're special if he invites you over to his 'embarrassing parents'." A low chuckle escapes from Hiram. "But also nice or not, perhaps you should hang out with him instead of his parents."

I don't want to be impolite, but I don't exactly feel like being alone with Minho, in his room. "Eh, perhaps. It would be awkward, though."

"Please," Jennifer calls from the kitchen. "If he gets a girlfriend, I want it to be one I like. And I like you, Lelia."

The heat rises up my face again. "I don't think we like each other in that way. Sorry to disappoint."

"Don't assume too much."

Now it's getting awkward here, too.

"Fine." Slowly, I get up. "I'll see if he's still alive."

"Third door on the left."

I disappear upstairs with a nod, nerves bawling up my stomach for no clear reason. This will either be the highlight of the day (getting to know Minho more) or the worst part of my day (it gets incredibly awkward).

I knock on the third door on the left.

"Yeah?"

"Your parents kind of urged me to hang out with you."

"Come in."

The door squeaks a bit as I open it. And then I'm in Minho's room.

There's a wallpaper of gray bricks on two of his walls. The other two are painted dark blue, just like the sheets of his bed. Above that, two planks full with pictures hang. There's a few plants in front of his window, a round carpet in the center of his room, a simple desk, TV, and some more decorations on the walls, like books. A dresser is planted next to his closet.

His eyebrows fly up. "You seem pretty judgy."

"It's not bad," I reply. "I've seen worse boy rooms."

His eyebrows go back down at first, but then they're up again. "Oh, really?"

"Lyndon's wallpaper is basically canvas paint," I start. "Eli—" I stop. Try to see how he reacts, but I don't see much else than curiosity. "Eli has a boring room." I avert my eyes. "Well, whatever. Your room is fine."

"Thanks." He scoots aside. Makes more place on the bed for me.

Awkwardly, I sit down.

I think I get it. When people are around—like on the sport fields, back in the lake, and at meals with our friends—we aren't that awkward. And definitely not nice.

We've only been alone a few times. When dyeing my hair, in the Shack, this morning, and now. We didn't know each other well enough back when we dyed my hair, and we were high. In the Shack, I was too pissed at him to even try to be nice, or to get awkward.

But this morning, when we were nice, and right now, when we're also being pretty nice, it's just awkward. Nothing to talk about, nothing to argue about, nothing to compete for. And neither of us really enjoy deep talk.

"I know I didn't win or lose the bet," he slowly begins, "but I'd like to know who Eli is. It's pretty obvious you were with him this weekend."

I want to tell him that Eli is just a friend again, but I don't have the energy to start that argument.

Yet I don't want the embarrassment of him knowing what I did with Eli.

I sigh. "Fine. Whatever. I sneaked out my first night in the Shack. I was pissed at you. Needed distraction. So I went to a club, met Eli, spent the night at his, then returned. Easy as it is."

His jaw hardens, I can see it. Then he covers it up with a grin. I can't tell wether is real or fake. "You needed distraction from me, so your solution to that is spending the night with another boy?"

"Who says I wouldn't have done the same if I needed distraction from anyone else?"

"You get what I mean," Minho says.

Kind of. It would be weird to take my mind off an argument I had with my father by sleeping with someone.

"Well, you have no right to be angry about it," I state. "And don't tell Lyndon. He already hates how I've changed."

He shrugs. "You're eighteen. Of course you change through the time."

"I mean that I went from calm and organized, to going out, taking pills, and being drunk."

"I can't imagine you as a calm and organized person."

I stare at him, raising one eyebrow. "Is that meant as an insult or a compliment?"

"Take it as a compliment. I like fun people. Better than being boring."

"Decent mindset."

"Right?" He gives me a small smile. "Sorry about my parents, by the way—"

"What? They're amazing."

"Not when they assume all those things."

"To be honest, I can't blame them. You did just bring a random girl to your house. I had to explain to your father that we're 'usually not nice to each other'."

His smile brightens a bit. "And what did he say to that?"

I need to stop blushing all the time. It's getting annoying.

"Eh, that I'm special? Nice or not, you did bring me to your house." I pause, then quickly add, "Your father said that. Not me."

"He's not exactly wrong."

My eyes wide before I can stop them.

"What? You can be very annoying, but if I would've despised you that much, I really wouldn't have brought you to my house, let alone allow you in my room. In my personal space, which deserves a certain amount of care and notice and—"

Now I'm rolling my eyes. "Oh, wow. I'm so honored then, Minho. Being in your personal space."

"We've really stopped with the last names, huh?"

"We've kind of stopped competing for everything, too."

"Yeah. I like competing. We need to start doing it again."

"But not for every single thing."

"You have a point," he comments. "Damn, we're no longer rivals. That's so depressing. We're nothing now."

"Frenemies?"

"Nah. That's when you're friendly even though you dislike the other— wait, we might be frenemies."

"I don't always dislike you, though," I admit.

I need to stop being this blunt. It won't lead to anything good.

Yet I continue. "I may hope you don't always dislike me either."

"I mean, I'd kiss you if you ask."

He must've blurt that out.

Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool— I can not play this cool.

"I mean—" he stammers, half frowning, half embarrassed, for once not grinning. "Uh— well..." His voice gains more confidence again. "I kind of exactly mean what I said."

I take an inaudible breath. "Really?"

No. He'll see the nervousness I don't want to have, and don't know why I have. If I get steadier, we can forget about this, and go back to enemies, or frenemies, and— no. Why would I want that while my eyes are betraying me by staring at his lips.

Why would I want that if I get butterflies around him? Why, if I find him so idiotic and annoying, yet like his presence?

I guess everything but my twisting stomach and red cheeks every time I see him have betrayed me. Everything has denied, denied, denied.

"Yes," Minho says, now fully confident again.

He can see right through me. Otherwise, he wouldn't have admitted like this.

"Bet," I say, just like he had done in the Shack.

"Sure," he says, voice more reduced.

He leans close so fast that I gasp, and then I'm gasping against his lips.

It really is happening— jeez.

At first, I have no idea what to do. I don't think he does, either. I don't feel his hands on my body or anything. So I start focusing on what I do feel; his lips.

They're soft. They don't taste like stupid fruits people in books mention, but it's already so good that I can't waste a single thought on Eli.

While Eli had been very good.

And Minho isn't even holding me yet.

That proves a lot.

Then I see his eyes close. Mine automatically follow his example as I feel his hand make contact with my waist. That's when my stomach explodes, as if all the twists and turns I ever had have mixed together.

I lean closer, into the hand that cups my cheek and deeper against his lips. Apparently so deep that he decides to just slowly lie down on the bed. I follow, and am then twisted around, so I'm below him.

He forces my mouth open with his, and then it really turns into a ravage— wait, no. It turns... better.

Our lips move faster, tongues involved. I hate the word 'tongue', but I guess it's a necessary detail, as he's absolutely amazing at kissing. Heat pools over my body, warmer than the fireplace downstairs. His hands go from cupping my face to holding my waist to taking my hips to circling the skin just below the bottom of my shirt, and every time his hands leave a place to shift to another, it leaves a burning feeling. A good feeling.

I don't think my skills have a chance against his, but I do as much as I can by running my nails over his back, fisting the material of his shirt, and moving my hand below it, onto his warm, toned skin.

I have no idea how much time has passed once we let go. I just know we're both breathing heavily, the heat is glowing off our bodies, and I know that I might have to go to the doctor and check if my stomach is actually okay after meeting Minho in the first place.

"That lived up to your expectations of kissing me?" Is all I manage, internally shrinking at my own words.

"Very." With his hands on my waist again, he moves us up. "And for you?"

"You're better than I thought."

He scoffs. "Of course I am."

I can't suppress my smile. "And are we still frenemies now?"

"Hm." He hums, seeming to consider it. "Well, to be honest, I have no idea."

"Neither do I. Because you're still kind of annoying."

"So are you. But I'm not Eli. I don't do one night things, and I don't randomly choose who to kiss."

"Are you calling me a—"

"No, no," he says fast. "Just saying I don't want us to act like this never happened."

I do my best to relax my shoulders as I bite my cheek, hard. I've never been this serious with someone before. I'd say I'm 'experienced', but not used to any lasting things.

And I've never thought of having a permanent relationship with anyone. Especially not with Minho.

Or rather, I didn't allow myself to think that.

"Neither do I," I say, nearly whispering. "But I don't know— don't really—"

"Hey, you kids, dinner is ready!"

Hiram either just interrupted a serious conversation or saved me. I think both.

I look at Minho again. From this close, his eyes have more contrast. They're not very complexed, but I like them. Just a nice brown color. Usually, they bring a twinkle.

"Let's go." We get up.

"Wait." Minho stops us. "We don't look too... we don't look like we just made out?"

I inspect him, then pull his shirt straight and fix his hair. "And me?"

He also pulls my shirt straight and fixes my hair.

I find myself enjoying the feeling of him doing that. The way he does it seems so... kind.

"Alright. Ready?"

I nod. "Ready. But you do still seem a little affected by my amazing touch."

"Oh, yeah? You better make sure you cover those red cheeks," he teases back, and I elbow him in the side.

As we walk to the door, he does it back. And I do it back again, and just like that, we nearly stumble down the stairs.

But we safely and hopefully not suspiciously make it to the dining table, on which the handmade pizzas already stand.

"Okay. I think everyone should just take whatever they like. I made four pizzas, so it should be fine," Jennifer explains.

Then she squints an eye at us, and I shrink.

"I don't see much fights going on."

"Be glad, Mom." Minho sits down on a chair.

"What did you two do?" Her other eye squints in more curiosity. "Oh, wait! You found his baby photos and that's why he looks so... what's the right word? I don't know."

"Yes," I confirm quickly, but not too quickly. "They were hilarious. Amazing, though."

"Right?" Jennifer laughs. "I'll show you some more later on. For now, enjoy the pizza."