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"No way," Pa says, yanking the curtain in front of her bed across its swinging rod.
Pat's puppy-dog eyes disappear behind a flurry of fabric. They're at the apartment, neck deep in finals week, and Pa's trying her best to ignore the brother-shaped nuisance bugging her about her winter break plans. She has a digital communication exam at 9AM tomorrow, and a term practical for photography foundations in the afternoon. It's going to be at least twenty-four hours before she can even entertain thoughts of vacation.
Of course, Pat doesn't care about any of that — he's coasting on the high of being done with his various engineering group projects. Sometimes Pa wonders if he ever even goes to class; she's pretty sure at least 80% of his waking hours are spent terrorizing Pran. The last 20% is naturally reserved for her.
"Pleaaaase," Pat says, popping up beneath the curtain and wrapping it around his head like a nun's hat. So ridiculous. "Look, I'll even pay for your flight and hotel room. All you have to do is show up."
"You mean our parents will pay," Pa says shrewdly, glaring at him over her glasses, and Pat doesn't even do her the courtesy of pretending he meant differently. "I know you just want me there so you'll have a chalet girl to do all your laundry. I have zero interest in babysitting a bunch of rowdy sophomores."
Pat makes a wounded noise, frowning dramatically. "That's not true," he says. "I swear, we just need the numbers so the ski resort will give us a group discount and some free perks. You won't even be the only girl there!"
Pa erects a barrier between them with her laptop and kicks out with her feet when Pat attempts to encroach on the sacred territory of her bed. "Oh, so you'll have more than one chalet girl," she shoots back, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She's known Pat her whole life; she's well aware of how these things go. "That makes me feel so much better."
"There's no universe in which I'd be able to make her do anything like that," Pat snorts. "Come on, you'll enjoy yourself, I promise. It's Ink, okay?" Pa blinks, freezing for a split second, which is long enough for Pat to climb onto the edge of her bed and forcibly move her laptop aside. "The other girl coming on the trip with us is Ink. So won't you come too?" Pa looks up into Pat's beseeching gaze, sighing as he clasps his hands together in supplication, and thinks, well, fuck.
This is how Pa finds herself haphazardly throwing a bunch of clean clothes into her suitcase on Friday, after all her finals and practicals and projects are over, and climbing into a Grab with Pat and a bunch of his sweaty, chattering friends. By the time they've fought through traffic and made it to the airport, she's already kind of regretting her decision. Fortunately, Ink's waiting for them at the gate for their flight to South Korea, backpack slung casually over her shoulder. She's not even dressed in anything particularly expensive-looking, just a simple oversized shirt and skinny jeans, and yet she still seems effortlessly stylish, a breath of fresh air after a cramped and bumpy forty minute ride.
"Hey, let's grab some food," Chang says, hooking one arm around Pat's neck and the other around Korn's. "Wai said he and Pran arrived early, so they're getting noodles in Concourse D."
"Since when were you and Wai so close?" Pat says, elbowing Chang's ribs. "Ink, Pa, you want anything to eat?"
Ink waves them off. "I'm good. You guys go." Pa shakes her head, and the boys melt into the crowd. Ink sinks into a seat near the windows and pats the one next to her, grinning up at Pa. "Hey, glad you could make it. I heard one of Pran's architecture friends had a last minute family emergency, so you're taking her place."
Pa plops down in the offered seat, ankles crossing as she leans back with a huff. "You're lucky you don't have an older brother. Pat only ever invites me to anything when he has an ulterior motive."
"Tell me about it," Ink says, rolling her eyes. "I think I've lost count of the number of times he's used me to make Pran jealous."
Pa's mouth twitches. "They're so gross, honestly. They deserve each other."
Ink makes a noise of agreement. After a moment, she continues, "Well, I'm sure Wai will be pleased when he finds out that you're the one coming instead," laughter in her voice.
"Don't even start," Pa says, making a face. She can feel herself beginning to turn red already.
It's been an interesting few months since Ink revealed that she was Pa's peer mentor. By that point, it was too late for Pa to deny the way she felt — that she liked Ink as more than just a friend, that she wanted Ink's defense of her against the older boys on campus to be borne from an urge to have Pa to herself, that she hoped there was a kernel of truth buried inside all of Ink's teasing. But Ink, of course, was being a dutiful upperclassman the whole time. Everything she'd done for Pa during the first part of the semester could be written off as something a senior should do to take care of an incoming freshman. It wasn't special.
At the end of the day, Ink's just a nice person, and Pa really should have known better. For a week, she let herself feel stupid about reading way too much into their interactions, and then she buried herself in schoolwork to take her mind off things. On one hand, her marks went way up. On the other hand… well. If Ink noticed that Pa was acting strange around her, she didn't say anything about it to her face. They still met up to eat together once a week, and Ink still happily provided Pa with as many helpful photography tips as she could stuff into her brain. Somehow, over the course of the last two months, Pa has learned to live with the aching pound in her chest every time Ink flashes her that mischievous grin, like they're the only two people on Earth that are in on the joke.
"What," Ink says now, voice light. "You're not into Wai like that?"
Pa wrinkles her nose. "Nah," she says, hoping to God she sounds equally unbothered. Then, because it's the end of the semester and she's so tired — of holding herself back, of being caught in the tangled web of her own feelings — she adds, "Actually, there's someone else I like." Maybe ripping off the bandaid and getting rejected will make it easier to let go.
"Is that so?" Ink asks, one thin eyebrow arching, an unreadable look rippling over her face. Pa opens her mouth to say more, heart hammering in her throat. Before anything can make it out of her mouth, though, Louis and Safe roll up with their suitcases and a metric ton of fried chicken to share, and the moment's lost. "You guys didn't get the noodle memo?" Ink says, making grabby hands at one of the boxes of food they're holding aloft.
"It's our first day of vacation, I'm only eating things that are greasy and bad for me," Louis says, obligingly passing it over. "Pa, you want some?"
"No, I'm not hungry," Pa says brightly, swallowing around the lurch of disappointment in her stomach. "But thanks."
December in South Korea is wet and freezing, which doesn't really help improve Pa's slowly curdling mood. They could've just gone to a nice beach for a week and avoided snow entirely, but no, Pat and Pran and all their friends had apparently wanted to experience a real winter for once. After a bumpy six-hour plane ride, they have to take another shuttle from Incheon Airport to make it to Gangwon-do. The only saving grace of the day is that Mo knows a bit of Korean and somehow manages to get all of their rooms upgraded to swanky suites. Pran passes out their keycards. By the time they've made it up the elevator to their floor, Pa's ready to pass out.
Pat leads the way down the hall, gesturing with grand flourishes at everyone's doors. "Ladies," he says, pausing at the far corner and bowing like he's the concierge. "Enjoy your stay."
Pa tugs her suitcase in through the door and sighs as the door swings shut behind them. It's not like she can tell Ink how she feels now; they're sharing a room, and she isn't about to make it completely awkward for the rest of the week. At least the suite itself is super nice, clean and sleek, with a huge flat-screen TV in the living space and a full kitchenette. The bathroom is spacious, lined with teal tile, and the shower is so upscale she can't even tell where the water is supposed to come out. Everything is perfect, except—
"Wait," Pa says, coming to such an abrupt stop in the doorway of the bedroom that Ink almost runs into her. This can't be real; this is a scenario straight out of a goddamn drama. "There's only one bed." It's king-sized, to be fair, which means the two of them could probably lie down spread eagle without even touching, but being alone in the same darkroom as Ink was already too much for Pa to bear this past semester. She doesn't even want to think about how she'll react to sharing a bed with her.
"Oh, fun," Ink says, voice echoing a little, like it's coming from the far side of a lengthy underpass. "It'll be like a sleepover."
"Ha ha," Pa says, slowly backing out and scrambling for her phone. "Yes, fun."
While Ink gets situated in the bedroom, Pa flees onto the cold balcony and video calls Pat. He seems puzzled when he picks up. "What's up? Why are you outside?"
"Ink and I only have one bed," she says, trying not to sound accusatory. "Is there a way we can get a different room?"
He sends her a weird look through the camera. "I don't think so," he says, glancing behind him. "Mo said the reason we got upgraded was because the rest of the resort is fully booked for the weekend."
"Ah," Pa says, feeling lightheaded. "Okay, never mind, pretend I didn't say anything." She hangs up before Pat can reply.
When Pa scurries back inside the room, Ink's already changed into a tank top and what has to be the tiniest pair of pajama shorts known to mankind. Pa has to take a deep breath to steady herself. Ink's brow wrinkles. "Hey," she says, "you good?"
Pa pastes a grin on her face; she really hopes it doesn't look too hysterical. "Yes!" she says, as peppy as she can manage. "Just had to get some fresh air, I still feel a little motion-sick from the bus ride."
"Get some rest," Ink says, patting the back of Pa's head as she passes by to claim her side of the bed. "Big day on the slopes tomorrow."
"For sure," Pa says, stomach sinking. She's dreading it already, and she hasn't even made it through the night in one piece yet.
Against all odds, Pa does eventually pass out, too exhausted by travel and the cold. Unfortunately, sleep isn't really the escape she hoped it might be. Her dreams are filled with the vanilla smell of Ink's shampoo and the high arc of her voice, and in the morning she wakes up wrapped tight in the covers with Ink's face about two centimeters away from hers, still relaxed in gentle repose. Pa forcibly reins in the urge to close the last distance between them and rolls ut of bed without doing anything she might regret later.
By the time Ink's alarm goes off, Pa is almost done getting dressed, her arms shoved into the sleeves of a thick hoodie. Ink rolls onto her side and blinks blearily, hair a mess, stretching an arm out to tap the screen of her phone. Pa sighs. Even with sleep breath and gunk in her eyes, Ink still looks great. It's just so unfair.
"Is that all you're wearing?" Ink croaks, voice raspy.
Pa suppresses the shiver that runs down her spine and finishes putting the hoodie over her head before glancing down at herself. "I think so. Is it not enough?"
Ink pushes up into a seated position and squints at her. "Definitely not," she says, hauling herself out of bed and making a beeline toward her bags. "I'm pretty sure it's like, below zero out there."
"This is the warmest thing I own," Pa says, chewing on her lip. "Pat didn't give me a lot of notice before inviting me on the trip. Maybe I can buy a thicker coat at one of the ski shops."
"Those are all going to be crazy upcharged," Ink says, shaking her head. "Don't bother. It's alright, I brought extras just in case." She rummages through her suitcase and resurfaces with a bright yellow jacket. "This might be a little big on you, but the extra layer will help."
Before Pa can move, Ink's crossed the room to swing the jacket around her shoulders. Pa knows better than to turn it down — she'd really rather not freeze to death on this vacation — but death by Ink doesn't seem like a much better alternative. Now Pa smells like vanilla too, a constant reminder that she's swaddled in Ink's clothes. Hopefully the cold weather numbs her sense of smell.
"Wear these thermal ski pants too," Ink says, holding them aloft with an outstretched hand. There's a pair of ski goggles in her other hand, also proffered. "And don't forget to put some sunscreen on your face either."
"Thank you," Pa says, flushing. "For looking out for me."
"No need to be so formal," Ink says, waving it off as she flashes Pa a quick grin. "What else is a peer mentor for?"
It's good Ink turns away to haul on her own skiing clothes right after she says it, because that means she doesn't see the look that twists over Pa's face at the breezy pronouncement. Pa takes a deep breath to steady herself and grimly crams her feet into her boots. At least snow shoes she can rent with all their ski equipment.
When they meet up with the guys in the hallway, Pran hands out a bunch of granola bars and dried fruit for sustenance during the day. Chang and Korn have their heads bent together discussing strategy for which runs to tackle first, and Wai keeps throwing them suspicious glances, but Mo looks like he's about to vibrate out of his skin from excitement. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter on their way to the slopes. "One episode of Goblin was filmed here," he says, sounding exactly like an enthusiastic tour guide.
"This guy is obsessed with Korean dramas right now," Chang says, shaking his head as they trudge through the snow.
"Have you seen Squid Game?" Ink asks. "I love the cinematography in that one. Really great camerawork." A lively conversation about Gong Yoo's best work erupts among the group, and Pa lets the overlapping voices wash over her, moving on autopilot. At the rental kiosk, she tells them her shoe size and grabs a set of skis and poles to match. It's not until they've taken the lift up the first bunny slope and Pa's staring down the incline that the nerves set in.
The boys are already raring to go, but Pa hesitates at the edge, eyes tracking them as they leap away cwith raucous whooping. "First time?" Ink says, jostling Pa's shoulder, and Pa jumps so hard she nearly careens forward and faceplants in the snow.
"Ah, yeah," she says, laughing sheepishly. "Sorry, I know it's just a beginner's slope, but it's still a little nerve wracking."
"Nothing to be ashamed of," Ink says with an easy smile. "Just watch me first, okay? I'll come back up for you and we can take it slow together."
"Are you sure?" Pa says, frowning. "I don't want to slow you down."
"It'll be fun," Ink says, grinning wider, and pushes off. Pa exhales as she goes, breath visible in the frigid air. The thing is — Ink's good at everything, and skiing is no different. She carves her way down the slope in smooth curves, swerving around choppy first-timers and tumbling kids with ease. Very quickly, she overtakes Korn and Wai, who appear to be racing while trying to sabotage each other, and sends up a spray of snow when she brakes at the bottom of the slope.
"You made that look so effortless," Pa says, when Ink disembarks from the ski lift and slides back over to her.
"It's just about balance," Ink says. She walks through the basic stance and how to turn, which is apparently also how to stop. Pa shuffles on the flat area of the snow a little bit, doing the drills Ink demonstrates and feeling kind of like an awkward, gangly baby deer with long weights on her feet. Every so often, Ink taps Pa's hip or her back to adjust her position. Even through the layers of fabric, Pa feels each touch like a punch to the gut. "Engage your core," Ink continues. "There, that's it."
"I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," Pa groans, legs trembling.
"You're doing great," Ink says, flashing her a double thumbs up. They switch to a different exercise involving squats, which really doesn't ease the building ache in Pa's thighs. Blessedly, after what feels like another hour of drills, Ink finally deems Pa's side-step shuffling to be adequate. "Let's give it a try. Start slow, don't rush."
Pa gingerly makes her way to the edge of the bunny slope again, hands clenched tight around her ski poles. The incline really isn't as steep as it looks at first terrifying glance, which helps. She progresses down in fits and starts, abruptly braking every time she starts moving too fast. The first time she falls on her butt is embarrassing, but the more it happens, the easier it is to sweep her mortification aside. By the time she makes it to the bottom, she's managed to stay moving continuously for at least twenty seconds without stopping, and it's started feeling a little more fun. That's something.
"Excellent job," Ink says, hands cocked on her hips, a broad smile on her face. "You wanna go again?"
"Yeah," Pa says, and is surprised to find that she actually means it.
They do a few more runs on the same course, and Pa slowly gets her bearings; each subsequent pass is slightly smoother than the last. Once Pa gets a better handle on the bunny slope, Ink lets her graduate to one of the green courses. It's steeper and also higher up on the mountain, which means the ride on the ski lift is longer as well. Even though it's still freezing, at least Pa gets to rest for a bit and enjoy the view.
"I should have brought my camera," Pa murmurs, legs swinging as the gondola carries them up. The idyllic mountains stretch out beneath them, huge snow drifts shrugging their shoulders in the untrodden areas of the resort, sandwiched in between wide swaths of fir trees.
"Snow shoots are notoriously difficult," Ink says, contemplative. "The lighting and stuff, you know? It would've been good practice. I think there are a few shopping areas at this resort, so we can see if they have any polaroid cameras we can mess around with."
"What happened to everything being overpriced ripoffs here?" Pa inquires, raising her eyebrows.
Ink laughs, tossing her head back, and Pa's eyes linger for too long on the sliver of her pale neck poking out from her windbreaker. "You learn fast," she says, eyes sparkling. "But some things are worth it."
They sure are, Pa thinks, chewing on the inside of her cheek, and tries to settle the hammering in her chest.
By the end of the day, when the sun's starting to slip beneath the backdrop of the mountaintops and they're waiting in line to return their equipment, Pa's legs feel like jelly. She nearly falls over after she unbuckles her heavy skis and swaps back into her regular boots. Ink swoops in and grabs one of Pa's elbows to steady her, a knowing look on her face. Pa's heart does a little backflip. "Take it easy," Ink says. "I can help you do some stretches later to combat the soreness."
Pa doesn't think she'll be able to survive even a moment of that, but she nods anyway. As they walk out of the rental kiosk, she finds that she's ravenous, stomach twisting itself into knots despite all the snacking they did on the slopes. "That's the adrenaline wearing off," Pat says, like he's some wise sage, and leads them all to a food court on the way back to their building. She feels a lot more human after inhaling a hot bowl of oxhead soup and splitting a bunch of random appetizers, fighting over kimchi pancake and mandu with the boys.
"I'm impressed," Ink says, shaking her head. While Wai and Korn squabble over the last piece of fried mackerel, Pa has managed to pile both their plates high with side dishes.
"With a brother like Pat, you start thinking of every meal as a battle," Pa says, grinning. "I've had a lot of practice."
"Makes sense," Ink says, grinning back. Then: "Hey, there's a tiny piece of gochujang stuck on your face." Pa wrinkles her nose and swipes at her own cheek. "No, here."
Pa freezes as Ink reaches out, soft thumb brushing against the corner of her mouth. "Ah, thanks," she croaks, flinching a little when Ink retreats, and ducks her head to keep eating. God, why can't she ever be normal whenever Ink does stuff like that so casually? It's been an entire semester; she thought she'd be used to it by now.
Through some miracle, she keeps it together long enough to finish her dinner, picking up bits and pieces of the conversation flowing around her. The boys want to go to explore the water park in a different part of the resort, but Pa 1) didn't bring a swimsuit, and 2) definitely wouldn't be able to handle seeing Ink in one right now — or possibly ever. She's trying to come up with a good reason to return to their suite early, but Ink inadvertently solves that problem for her. "There's a photography shop close to the hotel that Pa and I are interested in checking out," she says, smooth and firm. "We'll meet up with you guys later."
Pa tosses her trash on their way out and spends the first few minutes of their walk back chewing her lower lip to bits. It's started snowing a bit outside, little flurries descending from the sky. Ink's quiet next to her, which just makes Pa more nervous, wondering what she's thinking about. She's about to open her mouth and deliver some lame excuse about having a stomachache — not even really a lie, just an… embellishment — when Ink comes to a grinding halt in front of the photography store.
"Hey," she says. "Pa."
Pa wills a smile onto her face and glances up. Ink's wearing a serious expression, flyaway pieces of her chair coming undone from her loose ponytail, snowflakes collecting on the individual locks. "What's up?" Pa replies.
"Pat told me about how you wanted to change rooms yesterday," Ink says, and Pa's blood runs cold in her veins. It's not like she explicitly told him to keep it a secret from Ink, but still — Pat's stupid big mouth. She's going to strangle him when they get a second alone. Before she can say anything, Ink sheepishly scratches the back of her neck. "It's alright. If I'm making you feel uncomfortable, just let me know. I know I can come on a bit strong sometimes when I like someone, and that's not everyone's cup of tea."
Pa's so busy freaking out that it takes her a minute to register what exactly Ink said, and then her legs feel like jelly for an entirely different reason. "Wait, what?" she says, voice cracking. "Say that again."
Ink's brow furrows. "I like you," she says slowly. "I thought I'd been acting too obvious and you were turned off by the idea."
"What? No!" Pa grabs Ink's arms, head spinning, ears ringing. "I thought you were just — you were my peer mentor this semester, and you kept emphasizing how you were so duty-bound to help me, so I thought that's why you were being so nice to me all the time. I thought I was reading too much into everything." The brick that's been pressing into her breastbone for the past two months seems to evaporate all at once, and now she feels entirely weightless, like she's two seconds away from floating off the ground. "I like you too," she says, laughing breathlessly. "I wasn't turned off by anything you did. I was just — trying really hard to stop wanting it to mean more than it was."
"Oh my God," Ink says, starting to laugh too. "Wow, okay. We're kind of stupid, aren't we?"
"Maybe a little," Pa admits. "But we can make up for it right now."
"Oh, yeah?" Ink says, that mischievous glint flashing through her eyes. It's hard to say who moves first; between one breath and the next, their lips are touching, Ink's warm mouth pressing hard into hers. Pa's tongue traces Ink's full lower lip like she's imagined way too many times before, sagging into the circle of Ink's arms. She smells like vanilla and sweat, sweet and musky, and it would be a terrible idea to unzip Ink's jacket to get closer to her skin, but Pa definitely considers it.
A loud whoop startles them out of the kiss. Pa blinks her eyes open to see the boys around the corner of the photography shop, heads comically stacked on top of each other. "Fucking finally," Pat calls, making kissy faces at them. Pran's rolling his eyes at the antics, but he seems pleased too. Even Wai's grinning, which probably means he knew what was going on before she and Ink finally got their wires uncrossed. That reality is far too embarrassing to contemplate right now, so Pa shoves the thought away to process at some other time.
"Ignore them," Ink says, tucking a proprietary arm around Pa's shoulders. Pa wraps her arm around Ink's waist and huffs.
"You owe me," Pat mouths, a smug grin stretched wide across his face. He's never going to let her live this down, but for some reason, Pa can't bring herself to be too annoyed about it.