Page 15 of The Romance Rivalry

Seven second-chance romance

Midterms have taken over all signs of life at Brighton.

I’ve been to the library every day and night this week trying any way possible to get the material from all my classes to

stick. Luckily, the only class I don’t have a midterm in is Intro to Lit. Our grades lie completely on our weekly journal

entries, class participation, and partnered project. Which is an entirely different story. Especially since Aiden and I have

been so busy trying to date any person we can possibly stuff into a trope, we’ve barely made any meaningful progress on the

project.

Jeannette has her headphones on when I get back to the dorm. Her normally vibrant red hair looks dull and unwashed. It’s up in a messy bun, half of it falling out and hanging loose. She’s in the same sweats I’ve seen her wear for the past three days. And her velvety porcelain skin shows signs of some new stress acne and redness. I’m worried about her.

She’s been in a frenzied state as midterm week has approached like a train coming at full speed. Jeannette lives with the

constant pressure of being the oldest daughter/sister and setting a good example for her younger brothers. It’s like she’s

carrying the weight of her whole family on her shoulders. But I’ve met her dad and seen her FaceTime with her brothers. They

all adore her. I wish she’d cut herself some slack.

I’ve tried to give her space during this time, especially since in the first couple months of school, she’s been so available

and supportive of me and my nutty little plan to find a boyfriend.

But I miss her.

I walk over to her desk and gently tap her on the shoulder. She jumps at the contact, too stressed and pumped full of Red

Bull to be able to control her overreaction.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Oh gosh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out. I had my headphones on so I didn’t hear you come in,” she says.

Her lips are cracked and chapped, and I just want to wrap her in a blanket, walk her to the bathroom, and push her into a

hot shower. But even with it all, she still looks gorgeous. Some gals have all the luck.

I’m the type of gal who grows an unfortunate angry cystic zit on the tip of her nose. This one is so big, it actually impacts my line of sight. I’m feeling very lucky we decided to put our trope dating challenge on hold for a week until midterms are over. No guy would want to be seen with me in this state.

“Did you eat lunch? Wanna go grab something? Or I can go get something for you and bring it back?” I offer.

“What time is it? Actually, what day is it?” she asks. “I feel like I’m just drowning in these philosophy theories.” She drops

her head into her hands and lets out a groan. “I’m never gonna pass this midterm.”

“Yes, you are. But I think you need a break from this studying. At least to get some food into you. And a shower. A little

sunshine wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“Knock-knock.”

We both turn around to see our resident advisor, Allison, standing at the door. “It’s a Brighton tradition. Midterm stress-relief

kickball tournament between all the freshmen dorms. Let’s go kick some ass. Meet me at the entrance in ten minutes.” She points

directly at Jeannette. “No one is exempt!”

Normally, any kind of organized team activity would sound like the worst idea ever to me. But I look at my bestie-roommate

and her worn-down state and I wonder if these Brighton traditions are exactly what students need, and they know it. Maybe

there’s something to this kickball thing.

“The worst timing,” I say. “But not a bad idea to let off some steam. Let’s go!” I try to put on my most excited voice. It sounds a little manic, but I don’t do excited that often. Today I play the cheerleader for Jeannette and do what’s best for her.

“I don’t think I can. I’m so far behind,” she says. She looks back over at her notes and laptop on her desk, brow furrowed.

I put my hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze to get her attention back on me.

“You heard Allison. ‘No’ isn’t an option. I’m pretty sure they’ve made this a tradition because all the poor freshmen who

have come before us have also fallen prey to midterm anxieties. C’mon, we won’t stay long, I promise. You know how I am with

sportsball stuff.” She forces a smile and I take that as I win. I hold out my hand and wiggle my fingers to get her attention,

trying to coax her to take hold of it so I can pull her up and finally get her out of that desk chair. I wonder if she’s left

a stain.

She takes the hint and grabs my hand, flopping her way out of the chair. I push her to sit on her bed and grab some socks

and her sneakers from her side of the closet. “Here, put these on,” I say as I go do the same.

“Kickball, yay,” she says drolly.

I grab both her shoulders and look her in the eye. I can, since she’s still seated on her bed, which puts us at almost the same height. “Hey, missy. We’re going to go out there and relieve some stress and kick some balls and... stuff. And then we’re going to eat. And you’re going to shower and put on fresh clothes. And THEN you can get back to studying. Agreed?”

She sighs heavily, but then, as if a light has been turned on inside, she smiles. “You’re right. Okay, I’m with you. Let’s

go kick some balls!”

I laugh, and we link arms as we head out to meet the rest of our dormmates.

“Okay, Irene. Just keep your eyes on the ball all the way until it hits your foot and then kick it as hard as you can. You’ve

got this,” Allison coaches me.

I already whiffed twice in our first game. Including once when we had people on all the bases and all I had to do, according

to everyone, was get the ball in play. I did not, however, get the ball in play. I swung my leg and missed it... many times.

This has not relieved any of my stress, by the way. Just gotta put it out there.

“She’s a sleeper, everyone. I wouldn’t put it past her to kick it out of the infield,” a voice says from in front of me. It’s

Aiden, standing at the pitcher’s hill (mound? heap of dirt?) and smiling like I’m the funniest thing he’s ever seen. If I

could just kick the ball right where his face is, I’d consider this day a win. Please, kickball gods, be with me.

I stand and wait as he pulls his arm back and then throws the ball toward me. If he were any kind of gentleman, he’d take it easy on me and not throw it so hard. But nope. Not Aiden Jeon. Figures.

I keep my eye on the ball as I’ve been told to, but as it comes rolling down toward me, and as if karma is on its (and Aiden’s)

side, it hits a small patch of weedy grass, catapulting it into the air and changing its angle... so it’s coming right

for my face. I tell myself to put my hands up. But I’m such a bad listener. And I watch as the red rubber ball arcs through

the air and, on the downward trajectory, hits me square on the zit on the tip of my nose.

“Oh, shit,” I hear Aiden say at the exact same time as I scream, “Ow, motherfucker, that hurt,” and grab my face with both

my hands.

I fall to my butt and sit there on the dirt, too afraid to pull my hands back to see if there’s any blood.

Aiden is there immediately, and he gently takes my face into both his hands. I try to pull away. “Irene, stop,” he says quietly.

“Let me take a look.”

I open my eyes, not realizing I had them squeezed shut the entire time.

“I’m gonna pull your hands back so I can see, okay?” he asks. His voice is gentle, and he moves slowly.

People are standing circled around me, all looking down at me with concern. Jeannette is here now, and she drops down next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders. Charles shows up, too, and kneels at my side, rubbing my back. I have all these people here who care about me, who are worried if I’m okay or not. A lump forms in my throat and my eyes fill.

“Oh, shit, she’s gonna cry,” Charles says.

“Everyone get out of the way and let me take a look,” another voice enters the mayhem. A young Asian guy who looks oddly familiar,

though I just got pounded in the face right on my zit by a kickball, so I could just be hallucinating, pushes his way through

and kneels in front of me next to Aiden. He reaches forward, grabs one of my hands, and pushes it away from my face.

“I’m pre-med,” he says, like it’s an explanation for crowding my space.

“You’ve been in classes for all of six weeks, Taejin,” Aiden says. “And stop being so rough. Get out of the way. You’re freaking

Irene out.”

They both turn to look at me, and I look at Aiden and then at Taejin. Taejin. The name is familiar. And I’m not wrong—so is

the face. I know him from somewhere...

“Irene? Irene Park?”

Taejin Im. We were friends in middle school. We went to the same church.

“I didn’t know you went to Brighton,” I say, my nose sounding worrisomely stuffed.

“Yeah, I’m pre-med,” he says.

“You said that already,” Aiden says.

“Taejin and I went to church together when we were kids. The two of us played the three wise men in the Christmas play,” I

tell him.

Aiden’s eyes crinkle at the sides as he tries to suppress his smile. “I know there’s an explanation for that, right?”

I nod. But my face is sore, and I don’t really want to exert the energy to tell it.

“Tell me about it later, okay?” Aiden takes pity on me. God, why is his voice so sexy when he’s making fun of me?

Taejin pulls a stethoscope from the back pocket of his shorts and wraps it around his neck, letting it hang there.

“Why the fuck did you bring that to the kickball game?” Aiden asks.

“I have to always be prepared,” Taejin explains. His voice is comically serious, and I would laugh if I wasn’t certain it

would hurt too much. Aiden rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed, and that makes me want to laugh even more.

“It looks like it could be broken,” Taejin says, nodding his head assuredly.

“You didn’t even examine it,” Aiden argues.

“Still, that’s my assessment.” Taejin grabs both my hands and jerks me forward onto my feet as he shifts his body to put his back right in front of me. With the forward momentum, I’m suddenly draped over his back as he stands and starts walking away from the crowd. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on for dear life. “Gotta get you to the med center to get this checked out.” He grabs my legs, and with me piggyback, he starts jogging toward one of the buildings.

Straight out of a K-drama. And let me tell you, this is way more uncomfortable than they make it seem on those shows.

I want to tell him to put me down, explain to him that I can walk myself. But he’s got a tight grip on me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Aiden says, running up beside us.

“Get out of the way, Jeon. I’m getting her to safety.”

“You are such a moron. Just let her down.”

But Taejin is on a mission. He’s pre-med, after all. You’d think this is what he’s been training for his whole life. So he

continues to run, with me awkwardly bouncing around his back, each movement making my already sore face feel like it’s going

to explode.

I feel Aiden looking my way as he keeps up running beside us. “I’m gonna kick the shit out of him,” Aiden says under his breath.

I might have been hit harder than I thought because I feel a sense of relief, safety with Aiden here.

“Then that’ll leave me as the only wise man,” I say, eyes getting heavy despite being bounced around on Taejin’s back.

“I’ll play the three wise men with you any day,” Aiden says.

I must really be hurt, because my only thought is how that’s possibly the most romantic thing anyone has said to me ever.

And even with a possibly broken nose, and at the very least a seriously damaged zit, I know me and this heart of mine are in some big trouble.

“I told you it wasn’t broken,” Aiden says, clearly annoyed at this whole thing. I want to tell him to go back to the game,

if they’re all still playing. But he’s standing in the corner of the examination room, arms crossed over his chest, brooding.

Cute.

That’s the pain meds talking.

“I didn’t get a chance to make a thorough examination. It was a best-guess assessment based on limited information. And without

the proper equipment for triage,” Taejin tries to explain.

“Whatever,” Aiden grumbles. “Let’s check out and I’ll walk you back to the dorm, Irene. Jeannette and Charles are waiting

for us outside.” He holds me by the back of the head and looks into my eyes as if searching for a sign he might have missed

that I’m not okay to leave.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I whisper.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” he asks, still holding my gaze.

“Because you want to distract me, keep me off-balance.” It’s the only reason I can think of.

“Is it working?” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and a small part of me deflates.

Maybe this is just all about the game to him. Unfortunately, I’m not so sure I want to play anymore. My head hurts too much to think about it right now.

“Let’s just go home,” I say.

I stand up to follow Aiden. Guess we’re done here. I have a Band-Aid over the new bruise over the old zit over my nose and

over my pride. I sway a little when I get off the bed and Aiden’s arm is quickly around my waist, steadying me. I may have

let out a sigh.

“Hey, Irene, wait up,” Taejin says, following us.

He stands in the doorway, blocking our way out. The unnecessary stethoscope still hangs around his neck.

“I can’t believe it’s you. It’s really good to see you,” he says.

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for helping me out back there. I appreciate you using all your pre-med know-how to patch me up.”

I hear Aiden clear his throat to cover up his laugh.

But Taejin doesn’t listen. Instead, if I’m not mistaken, he puffs out his chest a bit. “No problem. Look, now that we know

that we’re both at Brighton, we should go out sometime.” He laughs. “Did I ever tell you that you were my first crush back

when we were kids?”

Oh, well, this is awkward. I just remember him calling me names and telling everyone that I couldn’t memorize the lines of

our Nativity play. I had one line. I memorized it just fine.

And weird timing, if you ask me, but okay. I don’t think this is pre-med curriculum approved.

My brain thinks about my tropes list and how Pre-med Taejin could fill in my blank freebie spot with a second-chance romance.

It’s a stretch, but it could work.

But we’re on an agreed-upon break from the competition because of midterms. And honestly, I’m way too tired and clearly too

drugged to be thinking about this now.

“That’s all really sweet, but sorry, buddy, Irene is way too busy with midterms and shit right now,” Aiden says confidently.

Apparently, he’s never seen my very open social calendar. “Contact her in a few weeks when things have died down. Actually,

make it a few months, maybe after the holidays, or in the new semester, even. You must know how tough college classes are,

being pre-med and all.”

I want to protest Aiden speaking for me as if I can’t do it on my own. But I’m too groggy and tired to move my lips, so maybe

he’s doing me a favor. Aiden wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in, leading me toward the exit and away from Taejin.

Even after a day of kickball and some hours in the medical center during a stressful midterms week, he smells so good. How

does he do that?

“Oh, yeah, well, I totally get it. I have to get back to studying, too. Pre-med midterms are a beast. Irene, I’ll contact

you later, maybe after the holidays,” Taejin calls out to me as we walk away.

I nod, but the movement causes a zinger in my head. I wince.

“You okay?” Aiden asks.

“I’m just tired and my face is sore,” I say, barely able to keep my eyes open. I lean farther into Aiden’s hold.

For a second, I have this ghost feeling that his lips touch the top of my head. But I know I’m just delirious.

“We should have played a drinking game for every time he said ‘pre-med,’” Aiden says.

I think I let out a giggle, but I don’t remember. In fact, when I wake up hours later in my dorm room, I can’t quite pull

myself through the fuzziness enough to remember most of what happened that afternoon.

I check through sleepy eyes once to make sure Jeannette is okay. She’s sitting at her desk, headphones back on, hair back

in a bun, studying. So I close my heavy eyelids, ignoring the large shoes on the floor next to my bed and what feels like

a leg draped over mine. I just fall back into a deep sleep as lips gently touch my head and I’m wrapped safely in the arms

of the best-smelling dream I’ve ever had.