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Megan Skiendiel had two talents in life.
First: making objectively horrible decisions with full confidence.
Second: pretending she totally meant to do embarrassing things on purpose.
Neither of these talents were helping her right now as she sat on the floor of Daniela’s bedroom eating dry Cinnamon Toast Crunch from the box while Daniela aggressively flat-ironed her hair like she was beefing with it personally.
“You cannot keep flirting like that,” Daniela said.
Megan blinked. “Like what?”
“Like a Victorian orphan asking for soup.”
“I do not flirt like that.”
Daniela pointed the straightener at her. “You literally asked that barista if oat milk hurt.”
“It does hurt.”
“To who?”
“The oats, probably.”
Daniela groaned so hard she almost left her body.
The room smelled like vanilla perfume, heat protectant spray, and the cheap cherry vape Daniela swore she was “quitting after this one.” Posters covered every inch of wall space. Half-done makeup cluttered the desk. The LED lights were purple tonight because Daniela said blue lighting made everybody “look unemployed.”
Megan tossed cereal into her mouth and stared dramatically at the ceiling.
“Maybe I’m just destined to die alone.”
“You’re nineteen.”
“And yet.”
“You don’t even try,” Daniela said. “You get nervous and start talking like an NPC.”
“That’s not true.”
Daniela gave her a look.
Megan sighed. “Okay maybe a little.”
A little was an understatement.
Megan had absolutely zero game. Negative game, honestly. Every interaction with a pretty girl turned her into a malfunctioning appliance.
One time a girl smiled at her in class and Megan accidentally thanked her.
For smiling.
Another time she tried to ask for someone’s number and instead asked what blood type they had.
Daniela still brought that one up weekly.
“You need confidence,” Daniela declared.
“I have confidence.”
“No, you have delusion. Different thing.”
Megan put a hand over her heart like she’d been shot.
“That was hateful.”
“That was true.”
Daniela finally unplugged the straightener and flopped onto the bed beside her.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the apartment windows. London at night looked weirdly cinematic after it rained. Everything glowed. Streetlights reflected gold against wet pavement. Cars hissed by outside.
Megan checked her phone.
11:47 PM.
No texts.
No plans.
Just another painfully boring Friday night.
She groaned loudly.
“I’m actually going to combust if I stay inside any longer.”
“Then go do something.”
“Like what? Commit tax fraud?”
Daniela grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it.
“Go ride your stupid motorcycle.”
Megan sat up immediately.
“My motorcycle is not stupid.”
“The bike literally sounds like a lawnmower with asthma.”
“It has personality.”
“It has engine problems.”
Megan grinned anyway.
Her motorcycle was old, loud, unreliable, and kind of ugly.
She loved it more than some family members.
The thing was technically a hand-me-down from her older cousin, but Megan acted like she’d inherited Excalibur itself. She spent more money fixing that bike than she did feeding herself.
Daniela narrowed her eyes.
“Oh my God. Don’t tell me you’re actually considering it.”
Megan was already standing.
“Fresh air calls to me.”
“It’s midnight.”
“Night rides are therapeutic.”
“You said that last time and came back with a parking ticket.”
Megan grabbed her helmet off the floor.
“Growth is a journey.”
“You’re literally unemployed.”
“And thriving.”
Daniela laughed despite herself.
Megan paused at the bedroom door dramatically.
“If I die—”
“I’ll delete your search history.”
“Real friendship.”
“Also your playlists. Nobody needs to hear that much sad girl music.”
“YOU DON’T GET ART.”
Daniela threw another pillow at her as she escaped laughing.
The cold air outside hit instantly.
Rain had mostly stopped, leaving the streets damp and shining under streetlights. Megan breathed in deeply.
Okay.
Maybe Daniela was right.
Maybe she did need to stop acting terrified around attractive women.
Not that it mattered.
Girls like that didn’t notice girls like Megan anyway.
Megan was tall in an awkward way. All limbs. Perpetually messy dark hair. Hoodies that never fit right. Permanent bruises on her knees from skateboarding and bike repairs.
She wasn’t smooth or cool.
She was just… Megan.
Professional loser.
She unlocked her motorcycle and swung one leg over it.
The engine sputtered violently when she started it.
“C’mon, babe,” she muttered. “Don’t embarrass me tonight.”
The bike made a concerning noise.
“Yeah okay fair.”
A second later, she pulled away from the curb.
The city blurred around her in streaks of reflected neon and wet pavement. Music blasted through her helmet speakers. The cold wind slapped against her hoodie.
This was freedom.
No awkward conversations.
No overthinking.
No embarrassing herself in front of cute girls.
Just speed and noise and empty streets.
Megan grinned to herself as she cruised through sleepy neighborhoods.
Maybe life didn’t totally suck.
Maybe things were actually—
The motorcycle suddenly jerked underneath her.
“Oh no.”
The engine coughed.
“No no no no no—”
It died.
Completely.
Megan stared in horror.
“You traitorous piece of garbage—”
The back wheel skidded on wet pavement.
Everything happened stupidly fast after that.
The bike tilted sideways.
Megan panicked.
She overcorrected.
Which was apparently the wrong move because suddenly she was sliding across wet asphalt like an idiot in a low-budget action movie.
“Oh SHI—”
CRASH.
The motorcycle slammed sideways into the curb.
Megan rolled painfully across somebody’s front lawn.
For a second everything went silent.
Then pain arrived all at once.
“Oh my God,” she wheezed from the grass. “I’m literally deceased.”
Her knee burned.
Her shoulder hurt.
Something definitely got scraped open.
Rain dripped softly from nearby trees while Megan laid there rethinking every life decision she’d ever made.
Amazing.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Humiliating.
She slowly pushed herself upright with a groan.
The motorcycle lay sideways near the curb like it was ashamed of itself.
“Fake friend,” Megan whispered to it.
A porch light suddenly turned on.
Megan froze.
Oh no.
No no no.
Please let this house belong to an eighty-year-old man.
Please.
The front door opened.
And Megan’s entire brain immediately blue-screened.
A girl stepped out onto the porch wearing oversized grey sweatpants and a faded hoodie, dark hair messy from sleep.
She was genuinely the prettiest person Megan had ever seen in her entire life.
Like unfairly pretty.
Like somebody designed her in a character creator and got carried away.
Warm skin.
Big dark eyes.
Soft lips.
Tiny silver earrings catching porch light.
Megan forgot about the fact she’d just eaten concrete.
The girl blinked sleepily at the scene in front of her.
Motorcycle wrecked.
Random bleeding idiot in her yard.
Long silence.
Then—
“Oh my God,” the girl said. “Are you okay?”
Megan opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because unfortunately her soul had just left her body.
The girl hurried down the porch steps toward her.
“You crashed.”
Megan stared at her like she’d never seen another human before.
The girl crouched beside her.
“Hey? Are you hurt?”
Megan finally managed: “Hi.”
Fantastic.
Absolutely incredible work.
The girl looked confused for a second before smiling a little.
And that smile?
Yeah.
Megan was done for.
Completely finished.
“I’m Yoonchae,” the girl said gently.
Megan’s brain short-circuited so hard it practically sparked.
Pretty name.
Pretty face.
Pretty voice.
This was evil actually.
“Megan,” she croaked.
Yoonchae glanced at the blood on Megan’s scraped hands and knees.
“You’re bleeding.”
Megan looked down slowly.
“Huh.”
“You should probably come inside.”
Megan nearly choked.
Inside?
INSIDE?
Yoonchae’s house???
Her brain immediately started playing alarm sounds.
Danger.
Danger.
Cute girl proximity.
Critical damage.
But Yoonchae was already helping her stand up.
Megan instantly forgot how legs worked.
“Oh my God sorry,” she blurted as she stumbled.
“For what?”
“Existing near you.”
Yoonchae stared.
Then laughed softly.
Megan wanted to launch herself directly into traffic.
Cool.
Super cool.
Amazing first impression.
Yoonchae adjusted her grip on Megan’s arm carefully.
“You definitely hit your head.”
“No this is just my personality.”
That made Yoonchae laugh again.
Which somehow felt worse.
Or better.
Megan genuinely couldn’t tell anymore.
The porch light glowed warm against the rain while Yoonchae guided her toward the house.
And despite the blood, the ruined motorcycle, and the fact Megan’s knee was screaming in pain—
One thought kept repeating in her head.
Oh.
I’m so screwed.
_____
Yoonchae had been having a perfectly normal night before a stranger launched herself into her front yard like a malfunctioning action figure.
One minute she’d been asleep.
The next?
CRASH.
Metal scraping pavement.
Somebody yelling “OH SHI—”
Then silence.
Naturally, she assumed someone had died.
Instead she opened her front door and found the world’s saddest motorcycle accident sitting in her grass blinking at her like a confused deer.
And honestly?
The girl was kind of cute.
In a pathetic way.
Like a wet cat wearing Converse.
Yoonchae led Megan carefully into the house while the taller girl limped beside her trying very hard to act normal and failing catastrophically.
“I’m okay,” Megan said for the fourth time.
“You’re literally dripping blood onto my floor.”
Megan looked down.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Megan immediately pointed toward the hallway. “Should I just pass away over there instead?”
Yoonchae snorted before she could stop herself.
The girl was ridiculous.
Cute.
But ridiculous.
The inside of Yoonchae’s house smelled faintly like fabric softener and ramen broth. Soft lamp light warmed the living room. A movie still played quietly on the TV upstairs where her older sister had clearly fallen asleep watching it.
Megan stood awkwardly near the doorway like she wasn’t sure humans were allowed indoors.
“You can sit,” Yoonchae said.
“Right. Yeah. Sitting. I know that skill.”
She sat on the couch wrong somehow.
Yoonchae stared at her for a second.
“How do you make sitting look stressful?”
“I’m talented.”
“That’s not a talent.”
Megan gave her a solemn nod. “You’d be surprised.”
Yoonchae disappeared briefly into the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit.
When she came back, Megan was staring intensely at a framed family photo on the shelf.
The second she noticed Yoonchae returning, she snapped her head away so fast it looked painful.
Suspicious behavior.
Interesting.
Yoonchae sat beside her on the couch.
“Okay. Let me see your hands.”
Megan immediately handed over the wrong hand.
“The bleeding one.”
“Right. Sorry. My brain retired.”
Yoonchae gently took her wrist anyway.
Warm skin.
Cold fingers.
Megan visibly stopped breathing.
Yoonchae noticed instantly.
Oh.
OH.
This girl was nervous nervous.
Cute.
She cleaned the scrape carefully with a damp cloth.
Megan hissed.
“Sorry,” Yoonchae murmured.
“No it’s okay. I’m just dramatic.”
“That seems true.”
Megan watched her like she was witnessing a religious experience.
Which honestly should’ve made Yoonchae uncomfortable.
Instead it was weirdly endearing.
“You crash motorcycles often?” she asked.
“This is actually my first public humiliation this week.”
“This week?”
“It’s only Friday.”
Yoonchae laughed again.
Megan’s ears turned bright red immediately afterward.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
“You laugh a lot,” Megan blurted.
“You say weird things.”
“Yeah that tracks.”
Yoonchae cleaned another scrape on Megan’s palm while trying not to smile too hard.
Megan was awkward in such an aggressively sincere way that it circled back around to charming.
Most people tried too hard.
Megan seemed incapable of trying correctly at all.
“What were you even doing out there?” Yoonchae asked.
“Driving.”
“In the rain?”
Megan shrugged with one shoulder before immediately regretting it.
“Ow.”
“You’re not very smart.”
“That’s what Daniela says.”
“Who’s Daniela?”
“My best friend. Professional bully. Evil little creature.”
“She sounds funny.”
“She’s terrible. She told me to go for a ride.”
“So technically this is her fault.”
“Oh absolutely.”
Yoonchae shook her head, smiling softly while she grabbed bandages.
Megan watched her every movement like a lost puppy.
It was getting difficult not to notice.
“You can stop looking at me like that,” Yoonchae said casually.
Megan froze.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m about to tell you the meaning of life.”
Megan looked horrified.
“Oh my God was I staring?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’re doing it again.”
Megan slapped both hands over her face instantly.
Yoonchae laughed so hard she nearly dropped the bandages.
“You’re unbelievably awkward.”
Megan spoke through her fingers.
“In my defense, you’re very pretty.”
Silence.
Megan slowly realized what she’d just said.
“Oh my God.”
Yoonchae blinked.
Megan looked seconds away from evaporating.
“I mean—not like weird pretty. Not that pretty can be weird. Well actually it can but not for you because you’re normal pretty. Wait no that sounds worse—”
Yoonchae was fully laughing now.
Not polite laughing.
Real laughing.
The kind that made her shoulders shake.
Megan stared at her helplessly like this was the worst thing that had ever happened.
“You’re making fun of me,” she accused weakly.
“A little.”
“I should’ve stayed unconscious on your lawn.”
“You weren’t unconscious.”
“I could’ve been.”
Yoonchae shook her head.
“You’re funny.”
Megan blinked.
“Funny weird or funny funny?”
“Both.”
“That’s devastating.”
Yoonchae finished wrapping her hand carefully.
“There.”
Megan stared down at the bandage.
Then back at Yoonchae.
Then back at the bandage like she’d been gifted a priceless artifact.
“You didn’t have to help me.”
“I know.”
“Most people would’ve left me outside like roadkill.”
“That’s slightly dramatic.”
“I could’ve died.”
“You fell at like twenty miles an hour.”
“Speed is relative.”
Yoonchae smiled despite herself.
There was something bizarrely magnetic about Megan.
She looked like she belonged in the background of a coming-of-age movie. Messy dark hair falling into her eyes. Oversized black hoodie with holes in the sleeves. Rings on her fingers. Nervous energy radiating off her in waves.
Cute.
Very cute.
And apparently completely incapable of functioning around attractive women.
Yoonchae decided this was entertaining.
“What about your knee?” she asked.
Megan immediately looked alarmed.
“My what?”
“Your knee.”
“Oh. Right. The blood-producing leg.”
“You should clean that too.”
Megan looked deeply distressed by this information.
Yoonchae narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Megan.”
“I just feel like maybe I can walk it off.”
“You’re limping.”
“I’m whimsical.”
Yoonchae crossed her arms.
“Megan.”
The taller girl sighed dramatically.
“Fine.”
She carefully rolled up one pant leg.
The scrape looked painful but not serious.
Yoonchae reached for antiseptic.
Megan instantly grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest like emotional support.
“You’re scared of antiseptic?”
“No. I’m scared of pain.”
“That’s usually how pain works.”
“Can you maybe emotionally prepare me first?”
Yoonchae bit back another smile.
“You’re a teenager, not a rescue dog.”
“That’s debatable.”
Yoonchae dabbed antiseptic onto the scrape.
Megan yelped immediately.
“JESUS CHRIST.”
“Be serious.”
“I saw heaven for a second.”
“You’re fine.”
“I’m being attacked in your home.”
Yoonchae laughed again.
Honestly she couldn’t remember the last time someone made her laugh this much this quickly.
Most people around her were exhausting.
Too polished.
Too aware of themselves.
Megan felt… honest.
Even when she was embarrassing herself.
Especially then, actually.
Once the scrapes were cleaned and bandaged, Yoonchae leaned back against the couch.
“There. You survived.”
“Barely.”
Megan looked around awkwardly.
Then at Yoonchae.
Then away.
Then back again.
Yoonchae noticed every single time.
“You keep staring.”
Megan made a sound like a dying Victorian man.
“Sorry.”
“You know, most people flirt a little more subtly.”
Megan nearly dropped the pillow.
“FLIRT?”
Yoonchae grinned.
Interesting reaction.
“You weren’t flirting?”
“No—I mean yes? I don’t know. I’ve actually never survived long enough to find out.”
That got another laugh out of her.
Megan looked genuinely stunned every time Yoonchae smiled.
Like she couldn’t believe it was happening.
“So,” Yoonchae said, “do you always crash into pretty girls’ houses or am I special?”
Megan stared at her.
Completely frozen.
Then:
“…special.”
Yoonchae’s heart did a tiny weird thing.
Annoying.
She stood up too quickly afterward.
“I’m getting you water.”
Megan nodded immediately.
“Hydration is important.”
“You sound nervous.”
“I sound stupid.”
“A little.”
“Damn.”
Yoonchae walked into the kitchen smiling to herself.
Something about Megan felt easy already.
Even with all the awkwardness.
Especially with it.
From the living room, she heard Megan mutter quietly to herself:
“Why would you say special, you actual idiot?”
Yoonchae laughed under her breath while filling a glass.
Okay.
Maybe tonight had gotten interesting after all.
_____
By the time Megan left Yoonchae’s house, she had completely forgotten three very important things.
One: her shoulder still hurt.
Two: her motorcycle was absolutely destroyed.
Three: she was no longer capable of coherent thought.
Yoonchae stood in the doorway while Megan awkwardly hovered on the front steps like she was waiting to be assigned a side quest.
“You sure you’re okay getting home?” Yoonchae asked.
Megan nodded way too fast.
“Yep. Totally. I’m resilient.”
“You’re limping.”
“I’m resilient badly.”
Yoonchae laughed softly again.
That laugh was becoming a genuine health hazard.
Rain had mostly stopped now. The street glimmered under yellow streetlights, quiet and damp and weirdly pretty.
Megan shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets to stop herself from visibly vibrating.
This was the part where a cool person would say something smooth.
Something memorable.
Something attractive.
Instead Megan blurted:
“You have really nice eyebrows.”
Silence.
Megan immediately wanted the earth to consume her.
Why.
Why would she say that.
Yoonchae blinked once before smiling slowly.
“Thanks?”
“Sorry. That sounded serial killer-ish.”
“A little.”
“I notice eyebrows when I’m stressed.”
“That cannot possibly be true.”
“It is now.”
Yoonchae shook her head, still smiling.
Megan’s heart was doing jumping jacks.
“Okay,” she said finally, backing down the steps awkwardly. “I should probably go before I say something medically concerning.”
“That might be smart.”
“Cool.”
Another pause.
Neither moved.
Megan internally screamed.
Yoonchae leaned lightly against the doorway.
“You’re staring again.”
“Oh my God.”
Megan physically turned away.
Yoonchae laughed.
“Goodnight, Megan.”
The way she said her name should’ve been illegal honestly.
Megan nearly walked directly into a bush.
“GOODNIGHT.”
Smooth.
So smooth.
She limped down the sidewalk with all the dignity of a raccoon hit by a bicycle.
And the entire walk home, her brain replayed the night like a broken Spotify playlist.
Yoonchae smiling.
Yoonchae laughing.
Yoonchae touching her hands while cleaning her cuts.
Yoonchae saying special.
Megan groaned loudly into the empty street.
“Oh, I’m cooked.”
By the time she reached Daniela’s apartment building, it was almost 1:30 AM.
Every step up the stairs felt like punishment from God.
She unlocked the apartment door dramatically quietly, hoping Daniela might already be asleep.
No such luck.
The second Megan stepped inside—
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?”
Daniela shot up from the couch wearing fuzzy pajama pants and a bonnet, horror instantly spreading across her face.
Megan opened her mouth.
Then immediately forgot about the injuries entirely.
“I met the prettiest girl alive.”
Daniela blinked.
“What?”
“She was like if Pinterest became a person.”
“Megan—”
“And her laugh?” Megan pressed a hand to her chest dramatically. “Actually life-threatening.”
Daniela stared at the bloody bandages on Megan’s hands.
“Megan.”
“And she helped me after I crashed and she has these huge eyes and perfect eyebrows—”
“You CRASHED?”
“She touched my hands, Daniela.”
Daniela stood up so fast the blanket fell off her lap.
“YOU COULD’VE DIED.”
That finally broke through Megan’s lovesick rambling.
“…yeah maybe a little.”
Daniela looked at her for one long horrified second before immediately pulling her into a hug.
A tight one.
The kind that felt half angry and half relieved.
Megan froze in surprise.
Then hugged her back carefully.
“You actual idiot,” Daniela muttered. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry.”
“You went out for a relaxing drive and came back looking like you fought Batman.”
“In my defense, the curb attacked first.”
Daniela pulled back to inspect her injuries again.
“Oh my God. Your knee looks terrible.”
“Yoonchae cleaned it.”
“Who the hell is Yoonchae?”
Megan stared dreamily into space.
“The loml probably.”
Daniela groaned so aggressively she almost folded in half.
“NO. Absolutely not. You are not falling in love with a random girl because she bandaged your knee.”
“You didn’t see her.”
“I don’t need to.”
“She’s so pretty it made me religious.”
“That sentence just gave me a migraine.”
Megan limped toward the kitchen dramatically while Daniela followed.
“She laughed at my jokes.”
“You don’t make jokes. Weird things just happen around you.”
“She called me funny.”
“Oh, she wants you bad.”
Megan nearly choked on air.
“What?”
Daniela snorted.
“Megan. Pretty girls do not keep inviting disaster lesbians into their house at one in the morning unless they’re at least a little interested.”
“Disaster lesbian is hateful.”
“But accurate.”
Megan leaned against the counter trying not to grin like an idiot.
Interested.
Yoonchae?
Interested?
Impossible.
Right?
“But I embarrassed myself like twelve times.”
“That means nothing. Some girls love losers.”
“Wow.”
“I mean that affectionately.”
Megan pointed accusingly at her.
“You bully me in my own home.”
“This is my home.”
“Details.”
Daniela grabbed juice from the fridge and shoved it toward her.
“So what now?”
Megan stared down at the bottle.
Then slowly looked up.
“I have to marry her.”
Daniela gagged dramatically.
“You don’t even have her number.”
Megan froze.
Oh my God.
She DIDN’T have her number.
How had she forgotten that?
That was literally the entire objective of existing near a pretty girl.
“Megan,” Daniela said slowly, already seeing the panic forming behind her eyes. “You good?”
“I didn’t get her number.”
“…okay?”
“I DIDN’T GET HER NUMBER.”
Daniela burst out laughing.
“No way.”
“I was distracted!”
“By what? Her eyebrows?”
“They were very symmetrical!”
Megan collapsed face-first onto the kitchen counter with a groan.
“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You survived a motorcycle crash tonight.”
“And somehow this is more painful.”
Daniela laughed so hard she had to sit down.
“You are genuinely pathetic.”
Megan pointed at her without lifting her head.
“I need you to support me during this difficult time.”
“Oh, I support this fully. This is the funniest thing that’s happened all month.”
Megan spent the next hour giving a painfully detailed recount of every single interaction she and Yoonchae had shared.
Every smile.
Every laugh.
Every word.
Daniela listened with the exhausted expression of somebody hearing their friend describe a celebrity encounter.
“So let me get this straight,” Daniela said eventually. “You crashed your bike into her curb, bled on her furniture, complimented her eyebrows, and stared at her like a haunted Victorian child.”
“When you say it like that it sounds bad.”
“It sounds clinically insane.”
“But she smiled at me.”
Daniela pointed aggressively.
“And THAT is why you’re screwed.”
Honestly?
Megan already knew that.
The next morning she woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck.
Which technically wasn’t inaccurate.
Every muscle hurt.
Her shoulder ached.
Her knee burned.
And yet the second she opened her eyes—
Yoonchae.
Immediately.
Like her brain had installed a virus overnight.
Megan stared at the ceiling for a full minute before sitting up suddenly.
Her motorcycle.
Okay.
Reasonable excuse.
Valid reason to see Yoonchae again.
Not desperate at all.
Definitely normal behavior.
She grabbed her phone instantly.
MEGAN:
hypothetically if someone wanted to see a girl again without seeming insane
DANIELA:
too late for that
MEGAN:
be serious
DANIELA:
just go get your bike???
MEGAN:
RIGHT
DANIELA:
and maybe flirt this time instead of acting like a concussion victim
MEGAN:
that’s basically ableism
DANIELA:
you literally had a concussion
MEGAN:
minor details
Daniela was right.
Megan did need to get the motorcycle eventually.
And if she also happened to get Yoonchae’s number?
Well.
That was just efficient multitasking.
Totally normal.
Not terrifying whatsoever.
An hour later Megan stood outside Yoonchae’s house again trying not to throw up from nerves.
Daylight made everything look different.
The house was small but pretty, with plants lining the porch steps and wind chimes moving softly in the breeze.
Her motorcycle still sat sadly near the curb.
Traitor.
Megan adjusted her hoodie sleeves nervously before knocking.
Immediately panic hit.
What if Yoonchae wasn’t home?
What if she was home?
What if she remembered Megan existed?
The door opened.
And there she was.
Messy dark hair again.
Oversized shirt.
Sleepy eyes.
Pretty enough to ruin lives.
Yoonchae blinked in surprise before smiling instantly.
“Oh. Motorcycle girl.”
Motorcycle girl.
Megan almost fainted on the spot.
“Hi.”
Absolutely killing it.
Yoonchae leaned against the doorway.
“How’s the near-death experience treating you?”
“I’ve had better Tuesdays.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“See? Head injury.”
Yoonchae laughed softly.
There it was again.
That stupid perfect laugh.
Megan could actually feel herself short-circuiting.
“I came to get my bike,” she said quickly. “And also because I wanted to make sure you knew I survived.”
“Good to know.”
“Yeah. Big survival fan.”
Yoonchae glanced toward the wrecked motorcycle.
“That thing looks dead.”
“You sound like Daniela.”
“Who’s Daniela?”
“My best friend. Tiny menace. Judged me spiritually after I got home.”
Yoonchae smiled.
“She was worried?”
“Very. Apparently crashing motorcycles is ‘dangerous.’”
“Crazy opinion honestly.”
“Right?”
Yoonchae laughed again.
God.
Megan needed to get a grip.
“Do you need help moving it?” Yoonchae asked.
Megan looked toward the bike.
Then back at Yoonchae.
Then accidentally said:
“I need help existing around you actually.”
Silence.
Megan closed her eyes.
Why did words keep happening to her.
Why.
Yoonchae bit back a smile.
“You flirt very strangely.”
“That implies I flirt at all.”
“You definitely do.”
Megan’s ears turned red instantly.
Yoonchae noticed.
Again.
Interesting.
She stepped outside onto the porch fully this time.
Megan forgot how oxygen worked.
“You wanna come in for coffee first?” Yoonchae asked casually.
Megan stared at her.
Coffee.
INSIDE AGAIN.
This was either the greatest moment of her life or a complex hallucination caused by head trauma.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Megan said immediately.
Then paused.
“Actually no wait you probably should because I seem too eager now.”
Yoonchae laughed.
“You’re cute.”
Megan stopped functioning completely.
Like genuinely.
No thoughts.
Just static.
“…what?”
Yoonchae looked amused now.
“I said you’re cute.”
Megan looked around briefly like she was checking for hidden cameras.
“This feels fake.”
“You say everything out loud, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
Yoonchae opened the door wider.
“You coming or what?”
Megan nodded immediately.
Then remembered something vitally important.
Her mission.
Right.
The number.
She turned back quickly before entering.
“Wait.”
Yoonchae looked at her curiously.
Megan tried to act normal.
Failed instantly.
“Can I maybe get your number?”
Smooth enough.
Reasonable.
Casual.
Yoonchae smiled slowly.
“I was wondering how long it’d take you to ask.”
And just like that?
Yeah.
Megan was absolutely done for.
____
After Megan got Yoonchae’s number, her life became significantly more embarrassing.
Not because anything bad happened.
Actually the opposite.
Things were going suspiciously well.
Which was honestly more terrifying.
It started with texts.
At first Megan tried to play it cool.
Which lasted maybe seven minutes.
MEGAN:
hey
MEGAN:
this is motorcycle girl btw
YOONCHAE:
I know 😭
MEGAN:
right okay cool
just making sure
YOONCHAE:
you think i forgot the girl who crashed into my lawn
MEGAN:
when you say it like that i sound insane
YOONCHAE:
because you are a little
MEGAN:
fair
Daniela watched the entire thing unfold from across the couch eating chips like she was observing a nature documentary.
“You smile at your phone like a divorced dad,” she said.
Megan didn’t even look up.
“Shut up.”
“No seriously. It’s concerning.”
Megan grinned helplessly at another text.
YOONCHAE:
be honest did your bike actually survive
MEGAN:
define survive
YOONCHAE:
MEGAN 😭
Megan kicked her feet onto Daniela’s lap accidentally.
Daniela stared at her in horror.
“Oh my God. You caught feelings immediately.”
“She called me cute.”
“And now you’re clinically gone.”
Megan couldn’t even deny it.
Because yeah.
Absolutely.
Gone.
Over the next few weeks, Yoonchae somehow slipped into Megan’s life so naturally it felt unreal.
They texted constantly.
Like constantly constantly.
Stupid memes.
Voice notes.
Random thoughts at 2 AM.
Pictures of weird-shaped clouds.
Yoonchae once sent Megan a blurry photo of a grocery store watermelon that looked like a heart.
Megan saved it immediately.
Pathetic behavior.
Daniela nearly passed away when she found out.
“You SAVED the watermelon picture?”
“It was meaningful.”
“It was produce.”
“It represented us.”
“You don’t even know what you are yet.”
Megan stared dreamily at her phone.
“Something beautiful probably.”
Daniela threw a sock at her head.
Meanwhile, Yoonchae quickly discovered that Megan was physically incapable of acting normal during hangouts.
Their first official one was at a late-night convenience store because apparently both of them operated exclusively after sunset.
Megan showed up fifteen minutes early because she cared deeply about seeming casual.
Which obviously made her less casual.
She leaned awkwardly against the storefront trying to look cool when Yoonchae arrived.
And immediately ruined everything by straightening up too fast.
Yoonchae smiled the second she saw her.
There it was again.
That smile.
Every single time it hit Megan like emotional property damage.
“Hi,” Yoonchae said.
“Hey.”
“You look nervous.”
“I am nervous.”
“At least you’re honest.”
Megan shrugged.
“Lying takes effort.”
Yoonchae laughed softly before falling into step beside her.
God.
Megan loved making her laugh.
Like genuinely loved it.
The convenience store was mostly empty except for an exhausted cashier and two teenagers arguing over energy drinks.
Yoonchae grabbed snacks while Megan followed her around like a haunted bodyguard.
At one point Yoonchae turned suddenly and caught her staring.
Again.
“You really do this constantly, huh?”
Megan blinked.
“What?”
“The staring.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t even notice anymore.”
“I just think your face is neat.”
Yoonchae nearly choked laughing.
“Neat?”
“I panicked.”
“That was adorable.”
Megan groaned loudly.
“Please never call me adorable again. I need at least one cool quality.”
“Too late.”
Somehow they ended up sitting on the curb outside sharing fries at midnight while talking about absolutely everything.
Music.
Family.
Bad tattoos.
Childhood fears.
Yoonchae admitted she used to think escalators would eat her shoes.
Megan laughed so hard she snorted Sprite through her nose.
Yoonchae almost fell over laughing at that.
It became easy after that.
Dangerously easy.
They started hanging out all the time.
Coffee shops.
Arcades.
Late-night walks through quiet neighborhoods.
One rainy evening they ended up sitting inside Megan’s half-fixed garage while she worked on her motorcycle.
Yoonchae sat on the counter swinging her legs while Megan pretended she understood engines.
“So what exactly are you fixing?” Yoonchae asked.
Megan wiped grease off her hands dramatically.
“Everything.”
“That feels unsafe.”
“It builds character.”
“I think it builds tetanus.”
Megan grinned.
Yoonchae watched her quietly for a second.
“You look happier lately.”
Megan glanced up.
“What?”
“I don’t know. You do.”
Something warm settled weirdly in Megan’s chest.
Because the truth was—
She was happier.
Before Yoonchae, life had felt blurry around the edges.
Same routines.
Same loneliness.
Same feeling that everybody else had figured something out she hadn’t.
But now?
Everything felt brighter somehow.
Even stupid things.
Rain sounded prettier.
Music hit harder.
Late-night drives felt cinematic again.
And every time her phone buzzed, she secretly hoped it was Yoonchae.
Which it usually was.
“You make me happy too,” Megan admitted quietly.
Yoonchae looked startled for half a second.
Then soft.
Dangerously soft.
Megan’s heartbeat immediately got stupid.
“You’re being sincere,” Yoonchae said.
“Yeah?”
“That’s rare for you.”
“I’m sincere all the time.”
“No. Usually you hide behind jokes.”
Megan opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
Because annoyingly—
Yoonchae was right.
She did joke when she got nervous.
And around Yoonchae?
She was basically always nervous.
Not bad nervous.
Just… overwhelmed.
Like her brain couldn’t process how badly she wanted to stay near this person.
Yoonchae hopped down from the counter.
Now they stood weirdly close.
Megan suddenly became hyperaware of everything.
Yoonchae’s hoodie sleeve brushing her arm.
The smell of laundry detergent.
The tiny silver earrings again.
Her eyes.
God.
Her eyes.
“You’re staring,” Yoonchae murmured.
Megan swallowed hard.
“Sorry.”
“You always apologize for that.”
“Well yeah. It’s creepy.”
Yoonchae tilted her head slightly.
“I don’t think it is.”
Megan’s brain stopped functioning for a full three seconds.
“Oh.”
Yoonchae smiled faintly.
Then reached up and brushed a streak of grease off Megan’s cheek with her thumb.
And wow.
Okay.
That almost killed her instantly.
Megan forgot every language simultaneously.
Yoonchae noticed.
“You good?”
“No actually.”
That made Yoonchae laugh softly.
Again.
Always that laugh.
Megan wanted to live inside it.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Yoonchae said.
“There you go saying devastating things again.”
Yoonchae stepped even closer.
Now Megan could feel her heartbeat in her throat.
“Maybe I like flustering you.”
Megan stared at her helplessly.
“Respectfully that feels evil.”
Yoonchae grinned.
Then quieter:
“You know I like you, right?”
Oh.
OH.
Megan genuinely forgot how breathing worked.
“You WHAT?”
Yoonchae immediately burst out laughing.
“Why are you shocked?”
“Because you’re you.”
“That explains nothing.”
“You’re pretty and cool and emotionally stable.”
“Emotionally stable is a stretch.”
“And I’m just…” Megan gestured vaguely at herself. “This.”
Yoonchae looked at her for a long moment.
Then said very simply:
“I really like this.”
Megan’s heart basically exploded.
Nobody had ever looked at her like that before.
Like she was something worth keeping.
Yoonchae’s eyes flicked briefly down to Megan’s lips.
Then back up.
And suddenly the air felt different.
Thicker.
Warmer.
Megan’s pulse went absolutely feral.
Oh my God.
Oh my God was this happening?
“Megan,” Yoonchae said softly.
“Yeah?”
“You’re staring again.”
“I know.”
Neither moved.
Not even slightly.
Then Yoonchae smiled a little.
“Might have to kiss you now.”
Megan short-circuited instantly.
“HUH?”
Very smooth.
Yoonchae laughed breathlessly.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you’re here voluntarily.”
“True.”
Megan’s eyes dropped to her lips this time.
Completely subconsciously.
Yoonchae noticed immediately.
And then—
She kissed her.
Soft.
Warm.
Gentle enough that Megan almost thought she imagined it.
But then Yoonchae kissed her again.
And this time Megan melted completely.
Every thought vanished.
No awkwardness.
No overthinking.
Just Yoonchae’s hands lightly gripping her hoodie and the feeling of finally finally finally.
When they pulled apart, Megan looked genuinely stunned.
“…oh.”
Yoonchae laughed softly against her mouth.
“That’s your reaction?”
“I think I astral projected.”
“You kissed me back. Pretty sure your soul stayed here.”
Megan stared at her for another second before blurting:
“Can I do that again?”
Yoonchae smiled immediately.
“Yeah.”
So Megan kissed her again.
And this time neither of them stopped smiling through it.
Later that night, Megan stumbled into Daniela’s apartment looking emotionally destroyed.
Daniela looked up from her laptop immediately.
“What happened to you?”
Megan pointed dramatically.
“I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.”
Daniela screamed so loudly the upstairs neighbors started stomping.
“What?!”
“She kissed me!”
“Oh my GOD.”
Megan collapsed face-first onto the couch.
“I’m literally never recovering.”
Daniela launched herself across the room.
“Tell me EVERYTHING immediately.”
Megan lifted her head slowly, grinning so hard her face hurt.
And somewhere across town, Yoonchae was probably smiling too.
_____
Dating Yoonchae felt weirdly natural.
Which was crazy considering Megan spent the first month of their relationship reacting to affection like a frightened shelter dog.
Every compliment?
System overload.
Every kiss?
Brain damage.
Every time Yoonchae casually called her babe?
Near-death experience.
Daniela found the whole thing hysterical.
“You literally giggle now,” she told Megan one afternoon.
“I do not giggle.”
“You absolutely giggle.”
“I laugh masculinely.”
“You kicked your feet yesterday.”
“That was involuntary.”
“Your entire personality is involuntary.”
Megan threw a sock at her.
But honestly?
Daniela was right.
Megan had become disgustingly happy.
The kind of happy that made strangers annoying.
One rainy evening, Megan showed up at Yoonchae’s house absolutely drenched.
Like soaked soaked.
Hair plastered to her forehead. Hoodie dripping onto the porch. Shoes squelching with every step.
Yoonchae opened the door and immediately burst out laughing.
“Oh my God.”
Megan looked offended.
“In my defense, weather is evil.”
“You look like a drowned raccoon.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Yoonchae stepped aside, still laughing.
“Get inside before you catch pneumonia.”
Megan shuffled into the house leaving little puddles behind her.
“Sorry.”
“You’re literally leaking.”
“Again. Rude.”
Yoonchae disappeared briefly and came back with a towel.
“Your hoodie is soaked.”
“Yeah, I noticed when rain attacked me.”
“Take it off before you freeze.”
Megan nodded casually.
Then paused.
Because.
Right.
Under the hoodie was just a thin black shirt.
Which was also completely soaked.
And clingy.
Very clingy.
Suddenly this felt dangerous.
Yoonchae noticed her hesitation instantly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Megan.”
“My shirt’s wet.”
“…yes. That’s usually how rain works.”
Megan made a deeply stressed noise.
Yoonchae narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Then realization hit.
“Oh my God.”
Megan covered her face with the towel immediately.
“Don’t perceive me.”
Yoonchae started laughing.
“You’re embarrassed?”
“No. I’m terrified.”
“Why?”
“Because I look stupid.”
“You’ve never once looked stupid.”
“That is objectively false.”
Yoonchae stepped closer.
“Megan.”
Slowly, dramatically, Megan pulled the soaked hoodie over her head.
Then immediately peeled the wet black shirt off too because it was sticking uncomfortably to her skin.
And wow.
Okay.
Yoonchae genuinely forgot how to speak.
Because apparently Megan had been hiding an absolutely insane body underneath oversized hoodies this entire time.
Broad shoulders.
Defined arms.
Sharp waist.
Faint muscle from working on motorcycles and skating and generally existing like a disaster gremlin outdoors twenty-four seven.
And the worst part?
She looked completely unaware of it.
Megan stood there nervously towel-drying her hair while Yoonchae blue-screened in real time.
“What?” Megan asked suspiciously.
Yoonchae blinked rapidly.
“You—”
Then stopped.
Because wow.
Actually wow.
Megan frowned slightly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Yoonchae recovered enough to point accusingly.
“You’ve been hiding all THAT under hoodies?”
Megan looked down at herself.
Then back up.
“…what?”
“You’re joking.”
“I genuinely don’t know what’s happening.”
Yoonchae stared another second before dragging both hands down her face dramatically.
“This is sick actually.”
Megan laughed nervously.
“You’re being weird.”
“No, YOU’RE being weird. Why do you dress like a homeless skateboarder when you look like that?”
Megan’s ears turned red instantly.
“Oh my God.”
Yoonchae stepped closer slowly, eyes still wide.
“You had me out here thinking you were built like a string bean.”
“That’s so hateful.”
“And now suddenly this?”
Megan was fully blushing now.
Which somehow made it worse.
Yoonchae grabbed her face gently.
“You’re very pretty, you know that?”
Megan melted instantly.
Every single time.
“You say things that alter my brain chemistry.”
“Good.”
Then Yoonchae kissed her.
Slow and warm and smiling halfway through it because Megan immediately made the softest most pathetic surprised noise.
“You do realize,” Yoonchae murmured against her mouth, “that I’m obsessed with you?”
Megan looked genuinely overwhelmed.
“That feels medically significant.”
Yoonchae laughed softly before kissing her again.
Making out with Yoonchae quickly became one of Megan’s favorite hobbies.
Not that she’d ever admit that out loud.
Mostly because Daniela would never let her live it down.
Unfortunately, Daniela noticed everything.
“You have hickeys,” she announced one morning over cereal.
Megan almost dropped her spoon.
“I do NOT.”
“You absolutely do.”
Megan pulled her hoodie higher instantly.
Daniela screamed laughing.
“Oh my God. You’re whipped.”
“I hate this house.”
“No you don’t. You’re in love.”
That word hit Megan square in the chest.
Love.
Oh.
Because.
Right.
She was.
Completely.
The realization followed her around for days afterward.
In the way she looked for Yoonchae first in crowded places.
In how safe everything felt around her.
In how Yoonchae laughed with her whole body.
In how Megan still got nervous every single time they kissed.
And apparently Yoonchae felt it too.
Because one night, while they were sprawled across Yoonchae’s bed watching terrible reality TV, she suddenly muted the television.
Megan looked over immediately.
“What?”
Yoonchae was looking at her strangely soft again.
That look always made Megan feel like her ribs were too small for her heart.
“You know something?” Yoonchae said quietly.
“What?”
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Silence.
Megan stared at her.
Fully frozen.
Yoonchae immediately started looking nervous.
Which was rare.
“Oh my God,” she said quickly. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Did I just ruin the vibe—”
“I love you too.”
Yoonchae stopped instantly.
Megan sat up too fast, words tumbling out now.
“I just didn’t wanna say it too early and freak you out but I’ve been feeling insane about you for weeks and you make everything better and—”
Yoonchae kissed her hard enough to cut the rambling off completely.
Megan melted instantly into it.
When they pulled apart, Yoonchae was grinning.
“You’re such a loser.”
“Yeah but I’m your loser.”
“That was disgustingly cute.”
“I learned from the best.”
Yoonchae rolled her eyes affectionately before pulling her back down onto the bed.
And honestly?
Megan had never felt safer in her life.
A week later, Yoonchae finally met Daniela.
Which turned out to be the single most terrifying social interaction of Yoonchae’s life.
Not because Daniela was mean.
Because Daniela had the energy of somebody who drank battery acid recreationally.
The second Yoonchae walked into the apartment—
“Oh my GOD you’re real.”
Yoonchae blinked.
Daniela stood in the kitchen holding a vape and staring at her like she’d just encountered a cryptid.
“You’re prettier in person,” Daniela declared immediately.
“Dani,” Megan groaned. “Please behave.”
“I AM behaving.”
“You pointed at her before saying that.”
Daniela ignored her completely and walked closer dramatically.
“So you’re the girl who made Megan start moisturizing.”
“I DID THAT BEFORE.”
“No you didn’t.”
Yoonchae burst out laughing immediately.
Which encouraged Daniela further.
Dangerous mistake.
“You have no idea what I went through,” Daniela told her solemnly. “This idiot used to flirt like a confused grandfather.”
“HEY.”
“It’s true,” Yoonchae admitted.
Megan looked betrayed.
“You too?”
Yoonchae smiled innocently.
“Sorry, babe.”
Daniela immediately gagged.
“Oh you guys are DISGUSTING disgusting.”
“You vape indoors,” Megan shot back.
Daniela gasped dramatically and hid it behind her back.
“I said I was quitting.”
“You said that six months ago.”
“It’s a journey.”
Yoonchae laughed so hard she almost folded in half.
Megan watched her with the softest expression imaginable.
Daniela noticed instantly.
Then pointed aggressively between them.
“See? THAT. That look right there. You’re both sickening.”
“She’s jealous because nobody texts her goodnight,” Megan said smugly.
Daniela looked deeply offended.
“I have OPTIONS.”
“Name three.”
“That’s not the point.”
Yoonchae smiled helplessly watching them argue.
It felt easy.
Warm.
Like she’d somehow slipped into Megan’s life and fit there naturally.
And judging by the way Megan looked at her?
She felt it too.
Later that night, after Daniela finally disappeared into her room yelling something about “needing noise-canceling headphones for emotional safety,” Megan collapsed beside Yoonchae on the couch.
“Sorry about her.”
“I love her.”
“She threatened to fight a cashier last week.”
“She threatened to fight me ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah that means she likes you.”
Yoonchae smiled softly.
Then looked over at Megan.
“You know,” she said quietly, “crashing into my house was probably the best thing you’ve ever done.”
Megan grinned lazily.
“Top three for sure.”
Yoonchae rolled her eyes.
Then kissed her slowly while rain tapped softly against the apartment windows outside.
And for once in Megan Skiendiel’s life?
Things actually felt right.