"So I've been telling him he's allowed to take our old room, but he finds it too much work to move all his stuff—" Jennifer continues.

"I don't think Lelia really cares about the size of my room," Minho points out.

Unbothered by anything except for how good this pizza is, I shrug.

Okay, I'm kind of bothered by the way my mind is replaying everything that just happened in Minho's room, and how he's sitting across from me, and his parents must notice a change in my behavior.

I hate him for being able to act like we didn't do anything, while I'm over here, failing.

Just saying I don't want us to act like this never happened. So what's that supposed to mean? We're gonna have a deep talk after this? No, thank you.

There's many things I like about Minho, and there's many things that annoy me about Minho.

Usually those are the same things.

His jokes, confidence, attractiveness, how he acts. All like-able, all annoying.

"You know what?" Hiram speaks up. "I think we should roast some marshmallows. I mean, unless Lelia is staying the whole night, we need to catch up right now. And even if she does spend the night, y'all will have to go back to the camp sooner or later."

Staying the night was not the plan. I share a glance with Minho, then turn to his father.

"Yeah, roasting marshmallows sounds good."
"Lelia and I were actually in a conversation we'd like to finish."

Ah, great. Again, I do not want to finish that conversation. If his parents weren't so nice, I think my scared ass would've fled already.

God, why did I even agree to coming here? Why the actual fuck did I kiss the one I'm supposed to hate? No, the one I sometimes hate, but definitely dislike.

"Oh, really?" Jennifer looks at her son, then at me. I think my attempt to have a blank face failed. "Well, I think we should just go roast those marshmallows."

"Sure, but—" Minho tries.

"I've already waited eighteen years for you to have deep conversations. Now you're at it, perfect, but I think an hour or two won't make much of a difference compared to those years," she says. "Marshmallows it is. Lelia, do you want to stay for the night?"

"If they're going back to the camp tonight," Hiram interrupts, "I'm bringing them. No way you," he looks at Minho, "are going on that motorcycle in the dark."

Minho sighs.

Then the eyes are on me again.

Stay here, or sleep in hut two while He is around, and Clint, Jeff, and Thomas are gone. Fry's presence doesn't really help; he stays up to get some food for the next day ready, and wakes up early to continue cooking.

Basically, I'm kind of frightened of Him.

"Staying the night is possible..." I say slowly. "But I, no offense, would rather not sleep next to Minho."

Oh, please. The only person I'm afraid of hurting with this comment is Hiram. Jennifer won't give a shit. Minho might, but I don't care.

"I get that," she says. See? "We don't have a guest room, but Minho won't mind offering his bed. You can sleep on the couch."

"I'll sleep on the couch," I say quickly.

With not wanting to sleep next to him, I also mean that I don't want to sleep in his bed, even though he isn't there with me.

"You're the lady. You're free to take his bed," Jennifer adds. "But alright, if you'd rather sleep on the couch, that's fine. Just don't tell people you got treated badly."

Gratefully, I nod at her. "Got it. Thank you."

"Alright. Marshmallows?"

☀︎︎

Unfortunately, Minho pulls me with him after the whole marshmallow thing, and he closes the door of his room behind us.

"What?" I snap.

"Don't act like nothing happened. Don't start denying it ever happened—"

"Dude, can't you see that's all I've been thinking about the whole time? Trying to hide the fact anything happened from your parents? You're the one who is able to act like it didn't."

"Yeah, okay, fine— let's not argue. As I said before, I just want to let you know that I'm not Eli and that I don't do the one time things."

"I am not starting a relationship with you, if that's what you think."

Or with anyone. It's not the right time.

"I'm not saying you should. At least do tell me for what reason you even kissed back, if you had no means."

I don't know.

"I don't fucking know!"

"What do you mean, you don't know? You figured you wanted to play around a bit? Could've said that earlier."

"No, Minho!" A yelp nearly leaves my mouth, and I cringe.

I'm defending myself for what? I don't know why I kissed him— I like him as much as I hate him. From all people, this boy.

And yet I dared to say he's better than Eli. And it's still true.

He's better than anyone I've ever hooked up with. Or rather, he's the only one who doesn't do the one time things. He's the only one who wants to have a stupid conversation about it.

"We hate each other," I decide to say. "I hate you, you hate me. Or dislike, at least. Am I right?"

"You indeed can be very annoying."

"You, too," I say. "So what would even be the purpose in continuing any of this?"

"If you ask that, you might as well ask the whole purpose of us kissing in the first place."

"Yeah. What was the purpose? Why did you say that? Why would you even kiss me if I'd ask?"

"Because I also like you. As much as I don't like you, I do," he says, just like my thoughts had. "There. It sounds weird, but hey, I can't help being attracted to a girl I don't like."

"So it's looks—"

"No, it's not just freaking looks, Lelia." He buries his head in his hands for a second. "It's everything. How similar we are, how I like the exact same features of you that I hate— many things."

Right now, I don't understand a freaking thing, and especially not myself.

"Oh, hello, kiddos!" Jennifer opens the door. "Sorry, I was just passing by with the laundry and accidentally heard your whole conversation. Lelia, come on, love. Mother advice. And Minho, come on, love. Jeez, what was all that talk?"

"What—"

But before Minho can finish his sentence, she takes my arm and pulls me with her.

☀︎︎

"I love this. I know exactly how it works," Jennifer informs, sitting us down at the kitchen table. "I've read so many things, it's crazy."

Uncomfortably, I shift a bit on my chair. I like Jennifer, but talking about my intimate experiences with her son is... odd.

"Choose a way. We can understand what you're feeling, or you can understand what Minho's feeling."

I make a face.

"Okay, both," she decides. "Tell me, have you ever had a relationship before?"

"Ma'am, I'm not sure if—"

"You're gonna be thankful when I pull a conclusion, baby. Trust me."

A long breath leaves my mouth. "Whatever, fine. No, I've never had a relationship before."

"Interested in one?"

I shake my head.

"Why not?"

"I don't like the permanent things. Teenage love always ends bad anyways. I'll wait 'till I'm a smart grown up with money."

"Okay, smart." She nods. I like how she's not giving a whole paragraph of feedback. "Who do you have a good relationship with?"

"Right now just my brother," I say. "My dad, too. But I'm currently a bit pissed at him."

"That's not a lot. Any others beside family members?"

"Thomas, I guess. And Teresa, though it's been a while since I have talked to her. I never really... I don't have deep talks with them, though. Only after we drink, I guess."

She nods, understanding. "What about your mom? Do you have a good stereotype? An advice giver?"

"My mom's dead." I swallow, then attempt to give her a crooked smile. "I have a stepmom, though."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She gives me a poor smile back, but luckily doesn't ask further about Mom. "You get along with your stepmom?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Any reasons?"

"She gets angry easily. I feel like she doesn't try to understand. She doesn't explain— doesn't educate me on things. I figured it all out on my own. Or tried to, at least."

And now I have debts to pay. My first time taking drugs was when I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. I got my period when I was eleven. I thought I was dying; Amina never told me about it. Lyndon was the one who searched things up, went to the store, and helped. I couldn't tell when people were being manipulative— I learned to be able to tell by figuring out my friends were manipulative. I didn't even know what manipulation was at first.

I was kissing people at such a young age. The first time I slept with a boy was years ago. He was drunk. I had no idea what to do. It hurt like hell. It wasn't assault, because I agreed, but I barely even knew what it was, because we didn't handle it at biology yet, and Amina didn't bother to tell me things. I made myself a fool by cutting my legs open as I tried to shave. I got drunk many, many times.

And so much more.

"So you love just your dad and your brother?"

"And my new girl friends, and Thomas," I say. "Perhaps Fry. Maybe even more people."

"And how much do you feel loved by them?"

I fall silent. A shiver goes down my spine as I swallow again.

"You don't have to reply," Jennifer adds softly.

"Are you a therapist?"

She chuckles. "I studied psychology because I wanted to be a therapist. But then I finished it, no longer liked it, and went for the medical world. But yeah, I know some psychological things. So... how loved do you feel?"

"That depends on the person." My voice automatically lowers, almost to a whisper while I stare at the ground.

"How loved do you feel by your brother?"

"Very loved."

In the past, I've thought Lyndon was disappointed in me, but he wasn't. He's only ever worried. There's so many things that let me know he loves me.

"And by your father?"

It's been a while since I spoke to him. Like, directly and nicely spoke to him.

"Less, but I'm sure he loves me, as I'm his daughter," I say.

"And your friends? Like Thomas?"

"Thomas is like an open book. And I know the girls are super kind. They love me."

She looks at me for a few seconds. "You did just say you only feel loved by your brother and your brother only. You said you know the rest loves you, not that you feel loved."

"I do feel loved by my friends," I say. "It's just way different than with my brother."

The drunk conversation I had with Thomas comes flying back to me.

"Well, then love her. Like, love, what's really the difference? Good for you."

"You don't love anyone?"

"I love Lyndon and my father."

"And that's it..."

"Yeah, that's it."

"How is all of this gonna prove my... feelings for Minho?" I ask.

"Well, I think it's pretty simple. You hate him for caring, and you hate yourself for not being able to care back like just a friend. He's the least person you would expect all of this from, right?" 

"That he cares about me? For sure."

"And since you've never been in a relationship or have been interested in more serious things, you don't know how it feels to like someone romantically, or for them to like you romantically."

"I still don't want any serious or permanent things."

"Neither would you want my son to disappear out of your life, am I right?"

I am silenced again.

I don't want Minho gone. I hate admitting it, but it's true.

"Right. But still. I dislike him too much to even start things."

"Yet you did start things."

"I just—" I stop when my mouth doesn't continue like I want it to; there is no way of defending myself. So I look down again. "I just don't know," I mutter.

A few seconds later, I feel Jennifer's warm arms wrap around me. My eyes close at the feeling. "I'd really adopt you if I could. Or at least let me educate you the things you no longer need to be educated in."

I manage a laugh at that, even though her words make me feel like crying. "Gladly. Have we pulled a conclusion on the Minho thing, though?"

"I know my son. His feelings are probably similar to yours, but he's blunter and maybe also stupider. And he does do the permanent things, as long as he trusts the person. You don't do permanent things, which makes it hard. And trying to talk it out clearly doesn't work, since you're both fiery."

I sigh. "Yeah. But as he said, I don't really want to forget about this either. It's different than with other people."

"Maybe give it time. I'll talk to him, too. He probably won't let me dig this deep, but we'll see." Laughing, Jennifer gets up. "You go take a shower or something. I'll see you, love."

☀︎︎

When about twenty minutes later, Minho returns from his mom and I'm just doodling a bit on a paper I found on his desk, his expression doesn't reveal a lot.

"Wanna forget about everything that happened for tonight and just try to make it better?"

"If that's still possible," I say.

I feel stupid for making some kisses such a drama, but alright. Maybe we can indeed make something out of it.

"My bed is kingsize. You don't have to sleep on the couch. It might be cold."

I roll my eyes at the memories. "Bet," I mimic.

He chuckles. And damn, dimples. The butterflies in my stomach like it too much. "Bet," he says.

Then I shake my head as I continue trailing my pen over the sheet. "What's your idea on making this night a little good after all?"

"Giving my best friend and your dear brother heart attacks?"

"Oeh, sure. What's your idea?"