"Hey, it's teach. What's up?"
My eyes widened in surprise. "Josh? How'd you get my number?" I typed quickly.
Almost instantly, he replied: "I'll tell you if you meet me outside the gate."
"Gate? Like, as in now?"
"Yeah. I'll be waiting, but if you don't want to, it's alright. I'll still wait here for ten minutes though."
"What do you want, anyway?"
The message was left on read. Seriously? I groaned and flopped onto my bed, staring at my phone for a few more seconds. Typical. I shoved it in my pocket and headed downstairs to see if dinner was ready... Only to find absolute chaos at the table.
The guys were huddled over a board game like their lives depended on it. The uncooked ingredients were just chilling beside the sink like decorations.
"Yo, Elise!" James waved me over like I hadn't just walked into a frat house. "Come join us!"
"What are you guys doing?" I asked.
"We're playing Azul Duel," Travis answered without looking up, calmly placing a tile with the concentration of a monk.
I blinked at the board. "That looks complicated."
Travis raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Best if you don't play if you don't know how to."
Ryan cut in before I could sass back. "It's easy, actually. Players draft tiles and lozenges to fill tile spaces. You score points for completed patterns. You should join—more the merrier!"
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Actually, I came to check if the food was done. I'm starving."
"Oh yeah!" Twan said. "We got distracted! Travis said the game wasn't lame so we tried it to prove him wrong but then... we kinda liked it."
"Classic," I muttered.
"I can order food for you," Minho offered.
"It's fine, I saw a lot of street vendors earlier. I'll just go outside and grab something quick." I turned towards the living room to leave, and the second I touched the doorknob, all five of them jumped up like I triggered a silent alarm.
Minho slapped his hand on the door to close it. James locked it. Twan zipped to the windows and closed all the curtains like the dorm was under siege.
Travis? He rolled his eyes and went straight back to the kitchen.
Ryan gently guided me away. "I'll start cooking now. You can chill or join the game."
Before I could respond, Twan cut in. "Hold up. I thought I was the one cooking tonight?"
Ryan sighed. "Yes, but I'm supervising. This guy needs to learn how to not burn water."
"Independent, my ass," Twan muttered while grabbing an apron.
Ryan looked at me. "Do you want me to just order for you?"
"It's fine, really," I said, already backing away. "Take your time. But the food better be good."
"No pressure or anything!" Twan called after me.
"You literally cut yourself chopping onions last time," Ryan added.
Back in my room, I locked the door, slipped on my shoes, and opened my window. Operation: Sneak Out—.
I climbed out carefully, landing on the grass like a stealthy ninja. I peeked back inside—the guys were still busy. Ryan and Minho were coaching Twan. James and Travis were still at their game like they hadn't moved an inch. Perfect.
I sprinted toward the gate. Just as I reached it, Josh was about to leave.
"Josh!" I called out.
He turned, surprised, but then smiled. "I really thought you weren't gonna come."
"I almost didn't," I said with a laugh. "But I've got nothing better to do in there."
He motioned for me to walk with him. "Shall we?"
"Wait where are we going?" I asked.
He smirked. "You're half-Filipina, right?"
"...Yeah? How'd you know?"
"I'll tell you later. But first, we're going to the market faire. Last day's this Sunday and I thought it'd be cool to bring you—since you're free and all."
My stomach made a tiny noise of agreement.
"Also... how did you get my number?" I asked as we walked.
He hesitated, then said, "Don't tell Saejima, but I snuck into his office after practice and checked the student files. You know, from the first day."
I stopped. "You what?"
"It was for a good cause!" he defended himself, laughing. "And it's not like I memorized your blood type or anything."
"...You're weird." I commented.
He grinned. "You're welcome."
After ten minutes of walking and friendly banter, we arrived. The air smelled like deep-fried heaven. Colorful string lights crisscrossed above us like a sky made of tangled Christmas, fiesta, and Pinterest dreams. The market buzzed with energy, sizzling oil, loud laughter, someone yelling "Buy one take one!" like it was a matter of national security. Music blasted from an unseen speaker—something with too much bass and too little lyrics.
My eyes darted from one food stall to the next. "Wait—what even is that?" I pointed to a cart that looked like it was selling golden paper bags.
Josh followed my gaze. "That's fried ice cream, I think."
"...How is that even possible?"
He smirked. "Magic. Or maybe just physics. I don't know, I'm not a dessert scientist."
We passed a guy dressed in a banana suit handing out flyers for a vegan meat skewer booth. Then a bubble tea stand with a punny name—"BOBA FETT." I stopped and stared.
"I need to take a picture of that."
"Of course you do," Josh said. "Nerd."
"Takes one to know one," I muttered while snapping a photo.
A group of kids ran past us holding giant cotton candies that looked like pastel clouds. One of them bumped into Josh, who staggered back a bit.
"You good?" I asked.
"Yeah, I think my soul left my body for a second."
We kept walking, dodging couples holding hands, and a woman aggressively waving grilled isaw on a stick. Then Josh bought a bag of something suspiciously red.
"Is that chicharon?" I asked.
"Nope. Spicy squid rings."
"You're bold."
He shrugged and popped one in his mouth. Then immediately coughed. "Yup. That's death in a bag," he wheezed, wiping his eyes. "Wanna try?"
I stared at him. "Nope. I like my taste buds."
He laughed, and I couldn't help but smile.
We continued walking until I saw—
"Oh my god," I gasped, eyes sparkling. "They have kwek kwek!"
"Kwek what?" he asked, baffled.
I laughed. "Just trust me."
He bought two cups. I watched him take a bite.
His eyes lit up. "OH. This is good. Why don't we have these on campus?"
"Because we can't have nice things," I replied, taking a bite.
We strolled through the crowded fair, moving from stall to stall. Hotdogs, skewers, grilled corn, takoyaki—you name it, they had it. At one point, I caught Josh staring at a chili garlic stall like it insulted his ancestors.
"What?" I teased.
"Nothing. Just... mentally preparing my stomach."
I giggled. "You eat one spicy thing and suddenly you're a martyr."
He nudged me. "Says the girl who cried over wasabi once."
"That was an accident!"
He looked at me, amused. "You sure about that?"
I met his eyes and felt my smile falter for a second—but not in a bad way. Something warm settled in my chest.
"Yeah," I said. "Pretty sure."
He smiled, more softly this time. And just like that, we kept walking, shoulder to shoulder, under the soft lights of the market...