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While Nathaniel is XOXO’s main dancer, he’s also the lead vocalist after Jaewoo. His low voice is tender and sweet. He sings the first half of the song, trying to match his pitch to the melody, but as the song goes on, the lyrics start to sink in.

They’re about a breakup, the longing for another person, missingtheir eyes, their nose, their lips, missing their touch. His voice grows more passionate. He’s not singing tome—his eyes never stray from the screen with the lyrics—but I feel every word as if he is. As he sings, I’m remembering his eyes on me, his lips, his touch. By the end of the song, I can hardly breathe.

100.

Angela springs up from her seat with a scream. Her knees knock against the table and the soda Nathaniel had been drinking tips over the side, splashing onto my shirt. I quickly stand up.

“Oh no, Sori! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” I reassure her. “It won’t stain. I’m just going to go clean it up a bit.”

Grabbing my phone, I press open the door and escape into the short corridor. I key in the code for the bathroom and step inside. For a moment, I stand in front of the sink, waiting for my heart to stop racing.

It occurs to me that in New York, a similar thing had happened, except Nathaniel was the one who left. I doubt he was overcome with unexpected feelings. More likely, he wanted to wash the smell of alcohol from his clothing. With a sigh, I run the water in the sink, wetting a few paper towels and scrubbing at the stain.

When I step outside the door, Nathaniel is waiting for me.

“Are you all right?” he asks, stepping forward from where he’d been leaning against the opposite wall.

“It was just a little spill.”

He shrugs out of his jacket. “Here, take this.”

I lift my hands. “It’s not cold out.” Now that it’s spring, the weather has gotten a lot warmer.

“You’re...” Even in the poorly lit corridor, I can see the blush in his cheeks. I look down to see the water has seeped through my white blouse, revealing the outline of my chest. Now it’smy turnto blush. I accept his jacket, wrapping it around myself.

Sounds of muffled singing come from behind the closed doors that line the corridor. Ads for soju brands are plastered onto the walls. From far away, someone leans on the horn of their car.

“Sori...” I’m alerted to the roughness of his voice, but when I look up, his expression is carefully blank. “Do you still have feelings for me?”

“I...”

I know why he’s asking. After the radio show and my reaction to his singing tonight, I would jump to the same conclusion. For a wild moment, I imagine telling him that Idostill have feelings for him, that when his eyes are on me, as they are now, I feel beautiful, I feel perfect. But... I can’t.

The reasons behind our breakup haven’t changed, at least the ones he knows, that he’s still an idol, that he has to maintain his image, to protect not only himself but his bandmates. And then there are theotherreasons, ones he can never know about. No, it’s better to cut off any rekindling feelings before they have a chance to ignite.

“I don’t.”

He nods to himself, as if that was the answer he expected me to give.

“Ihavemissed you though,” I say, because that at least I can be truthful about. His eyes rock back to mine. “How close we used to be, when we were friends.”

There’s a short pause, and then he says, “You never stopped being my friend.”

My heart feels almost too big for my chest, and I realize how much I needed to hear him say those words.

“I think I should probably head back home,” I say, with a sigh. “Will you tell Gi Taek and Angela?”

“I will, though you should text them when you get home, so they know you got back safely. And...”—his eyes meet mine once more—“text me too. You have my number.” His dimple deepens.

Cheeky. His teasing reference to the radio show releases the last of the tension I’d felt all week.

How does he do it? I think he’s maybe the only person in the world that both annoys and amuses me in equal measure.

“I should pay for the extra hour before I go,” I say. Since I’m leaving early, technically I lost the game.

He waves his hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. I already paid for the room.”