Allegro

A week had passed since we’d made our deal. It came as quite the surprise to many, though a few people claimed they “had a feeling.” All that mattered was that no one doubted it — for now.

When we got back to my dormitory after narrowly surviving traffic the night of hotpot, we sat down to hash out the details, per Minho’s insistence. He was sprawled out on his stomach across my bed, while I sat at my desk.

“Well,” he began, propping himself up on his elbows, “we have to at least look like a couple. Sit together in class, eat lunch together, the works.”

“For someone who swore off dating, you seem pretty well-versed in the art of relationships,” I teased, poking his arm.

He swatted at my hand without looking up. “We’ll hold hands when we’re walking around campus, go to social events together, you know — standard couple stuff.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my face neutral. These were things I’d secretly hoped we’d do for real, not just as part of some ploy to make Kitty jealous. My thoughts drifted, but a new question pulled me back. “If you’re going to be glued to me, how do you plan on spending time with Kitty?”

Minho tapped his chin thoughtfully. “She’s around the dorms a lot. Plus, I can bump into her at parties —strategic timing.”

“Wow. What a romantic,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Minho smirked, but his tone shifted when he spoke again. “Michelle, we’re also going to need to show some… PDA.”

I tilted my head. “You already said we’d hold hands. What else is there?”

He winced, avoiding my gaze. “Not just hand-holding. You know my reputation. If we want people to believe this, we might need to… do more.”

Realization dawned on me, and my eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you mean make out?”

He nodded sheepishly. “Maybe.”

I shrugged, masking the heat creeping up my neck, attempting to stay nonchalant. “Whatever. If it’s part of the plan.”

He grinned, hopping off the bed and giving my arm a squeeze. “Thanks, Mischa. I’ll head back — don’t want Lee breathing down my neck.”

“Goodnight, fake boyfriend,” I called as he left.

“Goodnight, fake girlfriend,” he replied with a smirk.

. . .

I barely made it through Professor Reiko’s lecture later into the week without nodding off, saved only by the sharp nudge of my desk partner. I turned to see unfamiliar, icy blue eyes studying me. “Thanks,” I mumbled. 

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t know my partner was a burnout. Too bad — you’re cute.”

I blinked, unsure if I should be offended or flattered. I decided to ignore the backhanded compliment, and narrowed my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

He ignored my glare, his attention shifting back to the board, clearly amused. The professor began writing a long string of hiragana on the board, and the boy leaned in again. “Need me to translate, love?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to indulge him with a response. When class ended, I slammed my textbook shut and bolted for the door, but he easily kept pace despite my long legs.

“What’s your name, partner?” he asked, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

“Don’t worry about it,” I snapped, speeding up.

“Wow. Long name,” he quipped, clearly amused. “Your parents must’ve hated you or something.”

I groaned, biting back a retort.

“William,” he said suddenly, extending a hand as he walked backward in front of me. “Will, if you’re into brevity.”

I eyed his hand warily before giving it a brief, cautious shake. “Michelle.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said smoothly. “You doing anything tonight, Michelle?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Minho’s voice interrupted.

“Hey, Mishy,” he called, slinging an arm over my shoulder. His eyes flicked to William, eyeing him up and down lazily. “Everything okay here?”

“Fine,” I said innocently. “William was just asking about my plans tonight.”

Minho let out a low chuckle. “Well, William, my girlfriend and I are going out. Problem?”

William’s smirk didn’t falter, his confidence unwavering. “Nah. I’ll just see her tomorrow.” He walked off, but not before adding, “See you around, Mishy.”

I glared after him, muttering, “What a dick.”

“What was his deal?” Minho asked, amused.

“I have no idea, but he seemed really eager to get to know me,” I said, shaking my head.

“Well, you are a catch,” Minho teased, steering me toward the main hall.

Unfortunately, William’s statement held true. I walked into Japanese III the following afternoon and saw the blue-eyed equivalent of a devil waiting patiently for me at our joint desk, his hands crossed in front of him on the table. He smiled angelically at me.

Something about his very essence rubbed me the wrong way. Reluctantly, I took my seat beside him, narrowing my eyes slightly and scrunching my nose as I looked him over. He merely smirked. “I know, I know, I’m stunning.”

“Not the term I would use,” I replied sweetly before rolling my eyes and pulling out my textbook.

The professor announced that today’s class would involve partner conversations, reading from a provided skit. We would be graded before the end of the period. I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to say anything to William. He’d probably enjoy my irritation too much.

When the skit landed on our desk, I turned to him. “So, which person do you want to be?”

He didn’t even glance at the paper. “Person A,” he said simply, his eyes fixed on mine.

I held his gaze for a moment before clearing my throat and looking down at the paper. “Alright, I’ll be Person B.”

Scanning the dialogue, I sighed. It was a mundane conversation about taking Japanese transit — the professor’s ploy to practice proper grammar.

“You know, we could skip the Japanese and do something else,” William mused, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

My nose scrunched in annoyance of his idea. “I don’t want to fail this assignment.”

“It’s basic speech,” he said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “We’ll be fine.”

“So, what do you propose we do instead?” I asked, my tone sharp.

“Calm down, Michelle,” he chuckled. “Tell me something about yourself.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. Yesterday, he’d been throwing insults, and today he wanted to play nice? Against my better judgment, unable to think of a better alternative, I decided to humor him. “What do you want to know?”

“Where are you from?”

“Can’t you tell from my accent?” I deadpanned.

“America?” he guessed, tilting his head as his eyes studied me. “But there are Latin undertones when you speak.”

I snorted. “Okay, now you’re just making stuff up.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful smile on his lips. “Maybe. Your turn — ask me something.”

“Why are you so obnoxio—”

“A real question,” he interrupted, arching an eyebrow.

I sighed in frustration. “Fine. What’s your full name?”

“William Ricci,” he replied without hesitation.

“Italian,” I murmured, feeling a flicker of unexpected connection. I hadn’t expected to have anything in common with this boy.

He nodded. “You?”

“Huang.”

“Chinese.” It wasn’t a question, moreso a statement.

I shrugged. “Sort of. My Asian side is a mix of Chinese, Vietnamese, and Thai Lao — all mountain people. My family eventually settled in the Thai highlands. My dad’s side is Italian, though.”

“You fascinate me, Huang,” William said with an unexpectedly genuine smile. “I’m pure Italian Sicilian, though I’ve been told there’s a bit of German somewhere.”

I didn’t want to bond with him, but I couldn’t help the smile that had etched onto my face in return. Pulling out my phone, I found pictures from my holiday. “I was in Cinque Terre over the break. It was gorgeous — I’ve been a few times, but this was my first time exploring on my own.”

“Something tells me you’re starting to enjoy this conversation, Huang,” William teased, leaning closer. “Maybe even starting to enjoy me.”

Heat rose to my neck as I shut off my phone and pocketed it. I crossed my arms, my guard flying back up. “I was until you reminded me who exactly I was talking to.”

“You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “You barely know me. How could I be that bad?”

“Have you met yourself?” I shot back, exasperated.

We scowled at each other as Professor Reiko approached to grade our skit. Not that I would admit it, but William was right — the speech was basic. We passed with ease. As soon as the professor moved on, William fired more questions at me.

“Favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“Favorite artist?”

“Music or physical art?”

“How about both?” he smiled.

I thought about it for a moment. “Monet, easily. For music… I don’t really have a favorite, but I’ve been listening to a lot of Frank Ocean lately.”

“Bad Religion is pretty good,” he agreed.

“I’m more of a Pink Matter girl myself,” I shrugged.

He laughed, then continued to rapid-fire questions. I answered each one, surprising myself by laughing along the way. By the time the period ended, I felt almost disappointed that the conversation was nearing its end.

“No fair,” I said as I packed up my materials. “You didn’t let me ask you anything.”

He tapped his temple with a smug grin. “Not how psychology works, Huang. If I keep asking questions, you’ll think I’m a good listener and want to keep talking to me.”

“Desperate much?” I teased.

He walked with me to the door. “I just want you to like me, Michelle.”

“You’re moving up in the ranks,” I admitted with a small smile.

When we stepped into the hallway, Minho stood leaning against the wall, eyes glued to his phone. William nudged me. “Boyfriend sure seems busy.”

I narrowed my eyes at him but kept the trace of a smile on my face. “Hey, maybe he’s doing something important.”

At that moment, Minho chuckled at something on his screen. William gave me a questioning look. I sighed and cleared my throat. Minho glanced up, and his smile faltered when he saw William. He quickly recovered, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “William, isn’t it?”

“See you later, William,” I said, almost smiling as Minho led me away.

“Will,” he called after me.

“William,” I corrected without turning back. As we rounded the corner, I swore I heard him laugh.

Minho looked down at me, his expression annoyed. My smile faded. “What?”

“You know, having another boyfriend wasn’t part of this pact, Mischa,” he said pointedly.

I poked his shoulder playfully, hoping to lighten the suddenly dim mood. “Jealous, Moon?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s just not a good look for my supposed girlfriend to be flirting with other guys in public, love.”

“Good thing we weren’t flirting,” I said, startled by the edge in his tone.

Silence fell between us as we walked. Maybe he had a point. If I was going to help him, I’d have to stay focused on this scheme of ours—and winning him over. As we reached the courtyard, I laced my fingers with his, determined to keep us on track.

. . .

Minho and I arrived at a small party at a local club the following Saturday. This time, it was hosted in a private room with a bar, ensuring it wouldn’t get raided by KISS staff like the fiasco last semester. To my amusement, Minho had planned both of our outfits.

“I like you in this skirt,” he complained when I hesitated to accept his styling choices. “Come on, people would eat it up if we matched — especially Kitty. She loves sappy things like that, darling.”

I held up the brown ruffled skirt and long pink tank top he’d picked out of my closet, sucking my teeth before sighing. “I suppose I can make this work,” I said, offering him a small smile.

And I did. I paired the outfit with small, thick gold hoop earrings, brown floral sandals, and a small black crossbody purse. As we entered the private space, I unhooked the bag from my body and placed it in the bag check. Glancing back at Minho in his dark brown sweater — one that hugged his toned torso just right, making my heart flutter — and baggy khaki pants held up by a simple black belt, I couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly put together he looked.

I took his hand, and he twirled me once as we made our way to the bar, his arm snug around my waist. I fought for my life to resist the sudden urge of leaning into his touch as he ordered us two virgin pina coladas, tipping the bartender handsomely.

He tapped his fingers on the bar while we waited, flashing me that effortless grin. “You look great, Michelle. As do I. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

I felt the blush creeping up my ears but pushed it down, clearing my throat before smiling. “We do work quite well together,” I said softly. Then, with more confidence, I added, “It almost makes me understand why people weren’t surprised by our ‘relationship.’”

He tilted his head curiously. “And why’s that?”

“What you just said,” I laughed, gesturing at him. “We look perfect together, don’t we?”

Minho’s expression shifted, growing unreadable. My stomach tightened, and I bit my lip, wishing I’d kept my comment to myself. The bartender returned with our drinks, and Minho ushered us to a booth near the dancefloor. He sipped his drink in silence, removing his arm from around me.

Wanting to fill the growing tension, I glanced around the room, spotting Kitty dancing with a girl I recognized from math class. Quickly, I shifted my gaze before Minho could notice. My eyes landed on Stella, the girl’s roommate, who was glaring at Minho with a mix of annoyance and longing. Her gaze shifted to me, and the longing vanished.

Stella had been icy toward me since we’d met, which I chalked up to my public “relationship” with Minho. It didn’t take a genius to see how obsessed she was with him — rivaling that of the koreaboo that was Madison Miller.

I shut my eyes and leaned back against the booth, wishing I was at home in bed, curled up with Serendipity and a bowl of popcorn. The music thumped on, and just as I was about to break the silence, Minho beat me to it.

His gaze had landed on Kitty, now standing alone with a sullen expression. “I’ll be right back,” he said abruptly, sliding out of the booth.

“Minho, wait—” I started, but he was already gone. I stared after him in disbelief. He had just lectured me days ago about our public image, yet here he was abandoning me to talk to a girl everyone knew he loved. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but disappointment still settled in my chest.

A familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Shouldn’t he be over here with you?” William slid into the booth, his tone casual but his expression anything but. I could practically hear the frown in his voice.

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered, my jaw tightening as I turned to him.

He rested a hand lightly on my shoulder, his touch warm and comforting. “Hey,” he said gently, offering a small smile. “His loss, right?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, nodding reluctantly. “I guess. I just hate how pathetic I must look sitting here alone.”

William’s eyes lit up, and he stood, extending a hand toward me with exaggerated flair. “Then let’s change that. Come on, Huang. Let’s dance.” I arched an eyebrow at him, but his playful grin was infectious. Before I could argue, he tugged me to my feet.

A Tame Impala track filled the room as we made our way to the dancefloor. I raised my hands, dancing to the song. William crossed his arms, then grabbed my hands, spinning me around until we were both laughing so hard we could barely breathe. As the song faded into Steve Lacy, our laughter died down. Catching our breath, we instinctively placed our hands on each other — his on my back, mine on his shoulders. I couldn’t help but smile at how respective he was with his placement.

“You know,” he teased, his eyes glinting, “you’re pretty fun when you get your head out of your ass, Huang.”

I rolled my eyes, suppressing a smile and ignoring his playful slight. “Not so bad yourself, Will.”

His smile widened as if he was about to say something else, but suddenly, a firm hand yanked me away.

Minho.

“Babe, I think it’s best we return to our seats,” he said, his tone clipped.

William raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling. “She’s all yours, man.” He melted back into the crowd, a lingering smile on his face.

I smiled to myself before facing Minho. His stern expression made it fall into a pale frown. “Min, what’s wrong?” I asked as he dragged me toward the exit.

“We’re leaving,” he growled, his strides so long I had to jog to keep up.

I barely had time to grab my purse as we exited the club. Outside, the night air was cool against my flushed cheeks. Minho stood rigid, his hands shoved into his pockets as we waited for the car. Bent over, hands on my thighs, I struggled to catch my breath. “Minho… can you at least tell me… what’s going on?” I asked between gulps of air.

“No,” he replied sharply, staring straight ahead.

The silence between us was heavy, thicker than it had been in a long time. When the car pulled up, we slid into the backseat, but instead of leaning back in comfort, I curled into a ball against the door, the tension eating away at me.

“Please, Minho,” I murmured, glancing at him pleadingly. “Talk to me. I’m your best friend.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Apparently, it’s just too damn complicated,” he said, his tone biting.

I hesitated, unsure of how to approach this. I knew I had to be truthful with him. “Minho… this is something you already knew.” And he did, the girl had told him the same thing the moment he confessed his love for her.

His head dropped, his posture sagging. “I know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I just… I held out so much hope, Michelle. And now, on top of the Dae situation, she wants to ‘explore her sexuality,’ whatever the bloody hell that means.”

“Minho, you can’t fault her for that,” I said gently but firmly. “Kitty will never be good for you and you’ll never truly know her, if she doesn’t know herself.”

He glanced at me, and the sadness in his eyes broke my heart. He looked like he was on the verge of crumpling, but we both knew he’d only let himself do that in private. “What do I do, Michelle?” he asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. Honesty was all I could offer, even if it hurt. “What you do is move on, Min,” I said softly.

He nodded, though the action was slow and defeated. “You’re right, Mich. You’re always right.”

The silence returned, but this time it felt more natural. Finally, Minho spoke again, his tone quieter. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this whole mess… This whole thing is probably holding you back from that William guy, anyway.”

I frowned, my eyebrows knitted with confusion. “What? No, Minho, you’re my first priority. Will is just… a friend.”

“Still,” he muttered, staring out the window. “We don’t have to do this dating thing anymore. It was a stupid idea.”

Panic flared in my chest. I didn’t want this to end — not yet. “Wait,” I said quickly, a plan forming in my mind. “Maybe Kitty isn’t coming around because she thinks you’re in love with her. If we show her you’re over her, maybe it’ll make her realize what she lost.”

I was grasping at whatever I could, but fortunate for me, so was Minho. He latched quickly onto the idea. “Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding as if convincing himself. “Yeah, that’s a good point. She thinks I’m easy or something… I need her to want to chase me.”

“Exactly!” I said, feigning enthusiasm. In truth, I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea at all.

He smiled for the first time since we left the club, squeezing my shoulder. “Thanks, Mishy. You’re the best.”

I forced a smile in return, sinking deeper into my seat. Now I had to help him win over Kitty and try to dissipate my own feelings in the process. Fantastic.