#femteam

you've never been particularly lucky in love.

your family knew it, your friends knew it— it was like a flashing sign had been dangling over your head your entire life, prompting the weirdest, most socially and emotionally stunted people to invite you for drinks. maybe there was money involved, like you were the subject of a television show and whoever made the largest dent in your hope for humanity would make out like a bandit. that's the only thing that could have began to excuse the calamity that was your love life, because even you would sneeze on a stranger for a large sum; even you would sabotage a first date by ranking your exes for a new car. but the reality was that there were no cameras, no briefcases lined with stacks of cash hidden under a table somewhere. your dates were just bad, and you were just unlucky.

tonight was no different.

you should have known from the start that the date was doomed, but it took you much too long to realize that there was no point in seeing it through. for almost an hour, you had sat in a worn plastic restaurant booth, mortified by the turn the conversation had taken. the person across from you transformed on a dime into one of the top five worst conversationalists you had ever encountered. what started as lighthearted banter had quickly turned to a heated, one-sided argument about how people with your particular opinions on several, unrelated topics are the worst. you didn't know that someone could be so passionate about e-books and sprinkle varieties, especially enough to tank an entire first date.

you forked your food, silently, stomach turning inside out as your date waved their hands to grab your server's attention and then demanded that you pay the bill for both of your meals. the only thing worse than being walked on, insulted, and humiliated was letting it happen, which you did.

of course, you did. you weren't the confrontational type, a trait that usually meant you were screwed over in most situations; you took the middle seat in the car when your friends carpooled even though you felt trapped, lurked in the background at parties because you couldn't risk disappointing everyone by saying you were tired from work, and you've accidentally worked more volunteer events than you had ever wanted to because your small talk sounded a lot like interest. it wasn't even that you were a people pleaser— you just hated being perceived as the "bad guy," even if it meant sacrificing your own sanity.

even if it meant walking home alone in the rain, your wallet noticeably lighter after paying for your paperback-passionate date's eggplant risotto and coat weighing on your shoulders from absorbing most of the summer storm. the floor of your building's elevator was slick as you stepped out onto your floor, onto the worn and faded carpet that stretched the endless length of your hall. everything was heavy. your eyes, your heart, and your tongue in your mouth as you approached your apartment door and saw her standing anxiously outside of her own directly beside yours. your neighbor was an enigma to you, tall and elusive, like if bigfoot had fluffy, blonde hair and the softest voice ever recorded. you moved slowly as if any sudden movements would cause her to evaporate into a cloud of fog, as if she weren't physically stranded outside of her place until she found her key.

you finally reached your apartment and stood firmly in place, just in case your rain-soaked coat tried to take you to the ground when your knees inevitably gave out. she towered over you, even standing three feet apart, shoulders aligned like a step-ladder. your eyes began to hurt, strained from glancing sideways, careful not to let her see that you were in fact watching her every move. every shrill, metallic jingle, every plastic charm grating against the metal loop of her key ring— you caught it all, committed it to the part of your memory where you stored the few random facts you knew about her. and there were few.

first, there was the obvious; you knew her name: jo. sweet and brief, like a first, chaste kiss. jo moved into your apartment building five months ago, which you noticed not only because of the spontaneous, midnight ruckus that first night— who moves into a new place at two in the morning, anyway?— but because she knocked on your door the next morning and personally apologized for any inconvenience her settling in might have caused. and all you could do was slouch in the doorway, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, while she took up your entire doorway with a soft and radiant warmth. she was a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, and you had been left on the counter for at least a week.

and, then, there was the not-so-obvious, things only you would know from your unique experience as her neighbor: she was a guitarist. she was a bassist, to be exact. her apartment's previous tenet was a musician, too, only his passion was the recorder, and he only played at dawn. it was worse than sleeping in a chicken coop, the sharp timbre of the instrument more excruciating than if you had just impaled yourself with the blunt end of it. jo, however, was pleasantly proficient. wherever she went from dawn to dusk meant that she was only able to play in the dwindling hours of the night. full and smooth, the sound had pulsed through the shared wall as the sun tucked itself into the skyline. those first few nights were sleepless; it seemed like jo was playing just to keep busy. it was nothing new, just the same melody over and over, plucking the same progression until you imagined her slumped over with the bass guitar in her lap.

now, she practiced; she experimented and learned, and when she fucked it up, she tried again. and you awaited it every night like a television premiere. so, you knew a third thing, too: she was good with her hands.

you pushed that thought deep, deep down, but you could feel it bubbling back up as you watched her nimble, slender fingers flip through her keys like stiff pages of a freshly pressed novel. you inhaled deeply as you did the same, with much less elegance, of course.

"do you not own an umbrella?"

her voice was low, rumbling through your already pounding chest like she had just plucked the thickest string of her bass. it was a good question, since you were dripping warm rain water all over your welcome mat; your hair was plastered to the top of your head, and any aspect of your appearance that looked halfway decent for your date had been washed away, reduced to smudges and smears. you looked the way you felt, though, which made your answer all the more pathetic. you breathed an awkward laugh, "i do."

"are you, like," jo started, finally pushing her key into the lock, "afraid to use it?"

you never knew how much conversation was appropriate between acquaintances, especially when a part of you wanted to be much, much, much more. at what point was she no longer dissolving uncomfortable tension between two kinda-strangers and attempting authentic conversation? you had no idea. growing up, you were reserved and shy, although it felt less like introversion and more like fear; fear of saying the wrong thing, fear of making a fool of yourself, fear of being known and, thus, the potential for being misunderstood.

you kept it simple, if a little bit dishonest. you gulped and threw one quick glance jo's way, where she was slowly turning the key to await your answer. you debated actually giving her the full answer, that it wasn't raining when your walked to the restaurant and you had hoped to maybe catch a ride back to your dates place if everything finally went your way. obviously, from the fabric clinging to your arms, that didn't happen. you said, "i am." you felt like a robot, programmed to only say the most humiliating and boring phrases.

but jo didn't seem to mind. you could feel her eyes on the side of your face as you navigated your own key into the lock on your door. she was soft and sincere in an oversized sweatshirt, blonde hair falling in messy tufts over her shoulders. a small smile, barely different from her resting face, curved her lips upward, taut like tuned strings. she pushed her door open and started to step inside but hesitated, long legs stuttering in the threshold.

for a second, she looked like she were going to say something. maybe something funny, maybe something to turn your whole night around. instead, she gave you one final, polite smile and disappeared with the creak of a hinge.

saturday morning sunlight evaded you behind dark clouds; you would have done the same. nothing sounded more appealing following the previous night's disaster than staying in bed with the curtains drawn, keeping your eyes closed despite your mind's racing. the rain painted your windows in a glossy and disorienting sheen, hypnotic, convincing you with every swirling droplet to shove your feet back under the blankets.

but yuma would have killed you if you missed your weekly coffee date. again.

she was hunkered in her usual corner table when you arrived, sulking into the steam rising from her mug. she looked as though she had been abandoned, kicked to the curb and left to find her own way, despite euijoo sitting right next to her. although, euijoo was so obliviously invested in something on her phone that she didn't even notice you'd walked in. or that you'd ordered your favorite and pulled out a chair across from the two of them. her fingers swiped aimlessly, her hair tied neatly behind her in a contrastingly precise knot.

yuma, however, did notice you. she followed your path from the cafe's entrace, to the pastry counter, and all the way to the back of the chair where your fingers wrapped around the smooth wooden panel. she huffed, her breath puffing the hair that had fallen into her face up and away, "you know, it's courteous to send a text when you're gonna be late." she couldn't have been there for more than 15 minutes; her coffee was still hot.

"it's also courteous to cut me a little slack," you argued, tucking your umbrella into the space between your chair and the wall, "i had a rough night."

"yeah, you look like shit," yuma let the grin she had been suppressing since you sat down break loose in a mischievous curl. and just as quickly as you registered what she'd said, euijoo elbowed her deep in the ribs.

"yu," she scolded her, and yuma palmed at her now sensitive side with an exagerrated, pained expression. euijoo turned a kind eye toward you, "you look great… ish."

"wow, thanks," you scoffed, taking a cautious sip from your mug, "what would i do without you guys, seriously?"

for starters, you'd save a lot of money. you treasured your coffee dates, but yuma's favorite cafe was a bit pricey. it was delicious, but it was for that reason that she took every suggestion to try a different place so personally. she was intense, but you'd learned to predict her like the weather. only, you were better at predicting yuma's reactions than the actual weather, as demonstrated by last night's casual stroll in a downpour.

in many ways, yuma and euijoo learned how to predict you, too. you'd shared so much of yourself with them throughout your many years of being friends that they knew you like no one else; they knew you inside and out and something else in the middle. this also meant that they knew every detail of your life. every detail.

"i meant 'shit,' like, in a good way," yuma smoothed over her insult, like holding an ice pack on a severed limb, and she smirked, "like you had a really long night." and she winked, several times and in rapid succession. it really just looked like she was blinking.

euijoo clicked her phone off and placed it face down on the table between you, leaning into the conversation. she winked, too, "yeah, how 'rough' was it?"

and with the two of your closest friends staring at you, kind of, tucked into the corner of the overpriced and crowded cafe, you realized you had a choice; at first, the ritualistic meeting and bonding over your terrible dates was fun. it was good stress relief to laugh off some of the bizarre encounters you'd suffered through. your friends were very good at reassuring you, too, that you weren't the problem, that you were a freak magnet and not the freak. but, at some point, it became something you dreaded, like you'd forever be the weekend's entertainment. you felt like a spectacle: the single friend. so, you tossed the idea around in your head.

what if, just this once, you lied?

what if, just this once, you let them believe you went on a date that didn't end in you staring blankly at yourself in your bathroom mirror for three hours?

you gulped, and then you leapt.

"it wasn't rough at all, actually," you smoothed your hands down the front of your shirt, as if eliminating the wrinkles would make you seem more credible, "she was very sweet, and we had a great time."

euijoo and yuma's winking halted, both of their eyes blown as wide as they could go with their eyebrows pinched together, furrowed. they stared at you like that for what felt like a full minute, waiting for you to drop the hat. just kidding, you might have said, it fucking sucked! but you didn't— you held their uneasy gaze, even though every second was another penny tossed into the pit in the bottom of your stomach.

"so, it went well?" euijoo was the first to break the silence, with her tone genuinely bewildered, "nobody, like, made a scene? or insulted you? or- i don't know- died?"

if she only knew the truth, that all but one of those actually did happen, that you were left to pay the bill at a restaurant you didn't even like only to be stranded in the rain. if either of them knew the truth, it would've been the same routine as every saturday; you'd reenact the worst of it with euijoo as your understudy, and yuma would watch, astounded, like the camera in a mockumentary sitcom; you'd stalk the date's social media profiles and make assumptions about their life and friends and family just to make yourself feel better; you'd go home feeling worse than before.

so, you smiled, teeth bared like a caged animal, "it was the perfect date."

yuma leaned back in her chair, suspicion unfolding over her face. the crease in her brow ran deep and was obscured only faintly by the pillar of fading steam from her coffee. the air felt thick, only in the space between you, and damp, the sweat threatening to bead on the back of your neck. you never were a good liar. she sucked her teeth, "perfect, huh?"

"mhm."

"well, tell us about it!" euijoo urged and situated both of her elbows on the table, dropping her chin into her hands. her eyes were glazed over, expectant. yuma's were still hesitant. "please, spare no detail— i wanna know everything."

you hoped, in that moment, that all the nights spent dreaming about the perfect date would finally pay off. you spun a marvelous tale, one of flowers and shy glances, of pinkies brushing on the sidewalk. reservations were made and fell through, an error on your date's part, of course. you would never have been so careless, but you thought it was endearing that she was. you painted your date as disorganized but sweet, babbling on and off about hobbies and family. the conversation was enjoyable, and you made sure to note that your meal was unexpectedly delicious, since yuma knew you hated the restaurant you ended up at, that everything you'd ever ordered there was undercooked or absolutely charred. you wrapped it up in what you hoped was a neat, mostly true bow, "i paid for our overpriced meal, and we got totally soaked from the rain on the walk home."

euijoo's posture had melted into a slumped lean, turning her essentially into a lovesick puddle on the tabletop. she clapped her hands together in quiet, tiny bursts. "that sounds like a great time," she squealed, hushed in the quiet bustle of the cafe, "i'm so happy for you, and that's, like, the bare minimum of what a date should be, by the way."

but, yuma didn't seem convinced. her arms braced her chest, her brows still knitted tightly together, like everything would click if they touched. she had always been like this, skeptical and cautious. she never let a good thing pass by without asking a thousand questions first. gifting her anything came with an interview under a flourescent lamp, handcuffed to a chair. you felt the same burn, now, of harsh, white light as yuma stared into your eyes. she basically stared behind them, into your mind. she asked, "then what happened?"

"what?" you mentally tracked your story, re-weaving all the imaginary threads that you very well could have crossed and had no idea, "nothing else happened. we went home— that was it."

"there you go again," yuma pointed a finger, "home… singular."

shit, you thought. in your effort to remain somewhat honest, you had neglected the part of the fictional retelling where you walked your date home, where you ran into a convenience store and bought a cheap umbrella just to keep them dry. instead, you were too honest, revealing that you walked home alone, but, to yuma, it sounded like you brought someone with you. you knew what she was thinking, of course. you look like you had a really long night, she had said. and it would make sense for her to think that, regardless of how desperate it made you out to be that you would hook up with the only person to treat you like a human being in many, many months.

agreeing would only create more lies, more guilt, and, once again, you were never a good liar. the second yuma would ask for more details, you'd flounder and have to confess everything.

your thoughts jumped quickly— restaurant, rain, elevator, keys —and landed on one image from that morning: the umbrella, unfamiliar but well-loved, propped up on the wall beside your door as you hurried out, your own in your hand.

your thoughts jumped again, this time even quicker, and landed on one person.

"oh, yeah," you laughed, awkwardly, bouncing your palm off the side of your head to really show that you forgot an important detail, "she lives in my building. we're neighbors, actually."

yuma and euijoo sat up straight in their seats, gasping before exclaiming, in staggering harmony, "you went on a date with hot neighbor?"

"i thought that was rule number one of having a hot neighbor," yuma leaned in, clearing her throat and bringing her voice down to the previous volume, "not dating them. 'cause then it's awkward when you have to see them every day."

"wait," confused, euijoo glanced between the two of you, "i thought we didn't know anything about hot neighbor. i didn't know she even had a name, and you're going on dates with her?"

your friends had thankfully never met or even seen jo, thanks to her mysterious schedule. the three of them had never even been in the elevator together, and you'd kept a lot of what you'd gathered on her to yourself. she was your little secret, in some not-at-all creepy ways. 'hot neighbor' was good enough for you, as far as updating the group chat on why you were awake at three in the morning went. hot neighbor's being loud again, you would type, not nearly as inconvenienced as you sounded by jo's efforts to perfect a new bassline.

"oh, i thought i told you guys," you feigned ignorance, even shrugging it off before it became too obvious that you were spinning a very intricate, veyr fragile web of lies, "i found out her name is jo."

euijoo's confusion didn't dissipate as you expected, instead twisting into something else. she chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes wandering aimlessly as she filtered through her brain. yuma glanced with concern between the two of you. you wished that everybody's eyebrows would unfurrow. somehow, your "perfect" date had become more puzzling than dates that actually required some brainpower, like the one where your date had to have their arm greased by zoo staff after getting it trapped in the enclosure bars. this was so mundane, so normal, by comparison, that even your eyebrows were knitted closely by the amount of questioning.

"jo…" euijoo rolled the name around on her tongue before meeting your gaze again, "do you have a photo?"

you had essentially tried to remain invisible to jo since she moved in. and for your own sanity, you'd tried to pretend she was invisible, too. for the first time, you opened instagram and typed in her name, unsure if she even had social media. it would fit the disappearing act she'd perfected in the months she'd been your neighbor. as you scrolled through the dozens of search results, your finger stilled over an account that was undeniably hers and flipped your phone around to show euijoo the results. her photos were messily curated, snapshots of things she loves, surely, and all of her selfies were hidden in the back halves of photo dumps, eclipsed by sunsets and birds at the park and freshly baked sweets.

"holy shit," euijoo breathed a laugh as she scrolled, carefully, through jo's pictures. one swipe, then another, until she met your eyes with a smirk tugging at her lips, "i know jo."

it would have been easier to tell the truth— every liar eventually came to this same conclusion. you had briefly weighed the possible consequences of your dishonesty, and none of them involved you standing outside jo's apartment. none of them were as humiliating, as humbling, as the way your wrist trembled when you lifted it, rearing your knuckles back to rap at the door. jo had went to sleep way later than you did; your body remembered the vibrations through the wall as your eyes fluttered closed for the last time, the tuned strings of her guitar humming well into midnight. was she even up? your face felt hot just thinking about her, hair tousled from sleep and shirt slipping off her shoulder. had she bothered to set an alarm, instead planning to be gently roused by the sun's warmth through the window you knew sat at just the right height to glare off any and every surface? it no longer mattered; you knocked three times.

three knocks for three lies. the first being that the date was good. it wasnt. the second being that the date was with jo. it wasnt. and the third being that the jo you supposedly went out with and the jo euijoo knew were two different people who looked very, very similar.

they weren't.

in fact, they were horrifically the same— the same fluffy blonde hair, soft and welcoming smile, and talent that you weren't exactly aware wasn't just a hobby.

"she plays bass in nico's band," euijoo had smiled, handing your phone back to you over the table, "you all remember nico, right?"

of course, you didn't remember nico. euijoo seemed to know everybody in ways you couldn't comprehend. you only knew her and yuma. and, now, jo, whose band was playing a show at a local venue later tonight. jo, whose show you'd made a big deal about at the table, looking offended when yuma had asked if you were going. "jo mentioned it last night," you had said, even thought jo didn't, and scoffed, "im obviously going."

you were obviously screwed.

standing, now, in front of jo's door, the wait felt almost as long as the dreary walk home the night before. you rarely felt as hopeless as you did then. every step as punctuated with a sinking pit in your chest, desperate to be filled. like a tomb. the fabricated version was, as expected, much more enjoyable, riddled with brushes of the hand when the sidewalk narrowed and ducking under awnings to avoid as much of the rain as possible and stolen glances in the elevator. you didn't realize how long you'd been waiting for something like that. anything like that. was it too much to ask for subtle romance? could the bar go any lower than a glance and a smile?

you also didn't realize how long you'd wished for the courage to knock on jo's door until the knob was twisting in its socket, the door creaking on its old hinges. the wooden frame captured her confused expression like a painting, trapping her in a moment that, unfortunately, revealed to you that you didn't wish hard enough for that courage. there weren't enough wishes in the world to give you the guts to stand tall, although she was much taller, in jo's doorway in the much-too-early hours of a saturday morning.

but here you were.

and here she was, pajama pants slung low on her hips and a t-shirt twisted sideways across her torso. her face was soft and slightly puffy from the sleep you had just pulled her from with your three obnoxiously entitled knocks. the crease that adorned her brow smoothed when she saw you, however, her expression quickly twisting from confused to concerned. jo flattened her palm over her sleep-wrecked blonde hair and adjusted the hem of her shirt with the other.

"is everything okay?" jo's voice was hoarse as she asked and not-so-subtly looked past you, shooting a glance down the corridor before meeting your shifty gaze. it took everything you had to keep eye contact, to not flicker your attention anywhere else but her. you looked like a lost puppy, even though your home was merely two steps to the left. "do you need something?"

"everything's fine," you laughed awkwardly, "kind of." your umbrella suddenly felt heavy in your grip. you'd rolled the panels flat and fastened it closed, but you couldn't help but feel like the constant blow of the ac down the hall would force it open and carry you away, like mary poppins. only mary poppins had a magical bag she could crawl into and disappear. you just had to stand there, shift your weight between your feet, and confess to jo that you messed up in a really, really, really embarrassing way. perhaps more embarrassing than anything you'd ever done before, and you had found yourself in some particularly horrifying situations. you cleared your throat, but your voice still came out lilted, like you were asking a question instead of proposing an idea, "i need a favor?"

"i can turn my amp down," jo offered, immediately, pointing her thumb behind her, "if its a noise issue. i thought it was kind of loud last night, anyway."

"no, no," you held up both hands, even the one holding the umbrella, "it's not that at all. i mean, it is kind of loud, but i don't mind."

in the same moment you realized that you had said too much at once, jo noticed it, too. she smirked, just a slight tug of her lips, and crossed her arms over her chest. her concern fizzled away, leaving only intrigue to ghost over her features. her eyebrows raised, "how can i help you, then?"

you debated lying again. you debated asking her to trade umbrellas, using the one she left out for you, which you couldn't think too hard about or you'd be much worse off, as a scapegoat. it sat idly in the corner of your vision, clouded now by jo's amused stature. she was quickly becoming less soft, the effects of her interrupted sleep wearing off and replacing every curve with a more familiar, sharp feature. her nose was elegantly angled, her eyes narrowing in on you as you turned your options over in your head, rotated them and analyzed every corner and edge.

no more lies. you decided this as you told her everything in more detail than necessary. you started with your history— how you had a pretty impressive streak of terrible dates, how you have two nosy friends who look forward to hearing about your terrible dates, how you had grown tired of being the punchline of every joke, how she was the last person you spoke to, how you panicked. and you told jo everything without stumbling once on your words, taking accountability for every choice, explaining your reasoning.

more shocking than any of the confidence you mustered up out of seemingly nowhere, jo didn't care. not in the way you expected, at least.

"and i wouldn't have said your name at all if i had known that euijoo knew you," you clarified, almost breathless from your extensive retelling of events but mostly from the way jo's eyes never left you as you spoke, "because now it's just a big mess, and i'm going to your show tonight, and i'm not really sure what to do with all of it."

jo, with her arms still crossed over her chest and the faint muscles shifting under her skin, leaned onto her doorframe. you anticipated anger or disbelief. you had played out this scenario on the walk home from the cafe, and jo was much more upset about this in your head. she had slammed the door in your face, broken her lease, and moved out the next day just so she didn't have to see you anymore. because who lies about something like that?

but jo didn't do any of that. instead, the other side of her lips tilted up, pulling her smirk into a full smile. she asked, "you're coming to the show?"

your stomach flipped; once when she smiled and twice when she ignored everything that you were sure would incite some kind of life-ruining guilt. you scrunched your brows together, "did you… hear what i said before that?"

jo nodded, "mhm."

"and you're not upset that i dragged you into my lie?"

"i feel really bad that you had to in the first place," she admitted, her smile faltering, "but i'm not upset. not at all." jo stood up straight, once again adjusting her shirt on her frame, this time pinching the shoulders and aligning the collar closer to her neck, which was slightly flushed. not unlike your own, only you felt your entire body burning, blood rushing to every exposed sliver of skin. she added, "i think it's kind of cute, actually."

"oh," you gulped, "thanks."

"i'll see you tonight, then?" jo quickly said, intercepting whatever awkwardness you were about to bring to the interaction. and when you nodded, jo slipped back inside, sparing you one last amused glance before pushing the door closed.

you released a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. the cool air swirled around your still burning skin, settling on your cheeks like post-rain fog. the umbrella was a bit lighter in your hand; you felt like, still, you might float away, if not for the anchoring weight of your heart low in your chest, beating heavy, reverberating.

if she hadn't moved in right next door, maybe you would have seen her, spared a fleeting glance that would've turned into several lingering ones, at the record store on the corner, flipping through albums in their crates with calloused fingers. maybe you would have bumped shoulders at the farmer's market and laughed as the peaches you'd been cradling bounced across the ground, bruising more and more the further they strayed from the two of you. or, maybe, she'd have been nursing a drink at your favorite karaoke bar, judging you for your poor sense of rhythm and off-key rendition of her favorite song. she'd have judged you until she couldn't anymore, until it became admiration of your (mostly sober) confidence to butcher any song that came your way.

one thing you knew for certain, however, was that you would have seen her here. in every timeline, every fateful turn of the earth, you would have been standing in the front of the crowd, watching through the settling, artifical fog and flashing, blazing hues of purple as jo did what she was made to do. her fingers slotted, more naturally than anything, between the frets. her guitar pressed against her hip, the strap nestled in the flat of her shoulder. her skin glinted like new stars, beads of sweat rolling down her neck and disappearing behind the collar of her shirt and leaving behind comet trails, glowing purple in the light. it was almost impossible to tell where jo ended and the instrument began; she was blurring with every phrase, every note change.

jo didn't just play the bass. she wielded it like a weapon. she was bass; she was sturdy, essential, constant. she was the most interesting person in the room, even as she swayed behind her bandmates and shook her hair from her eyes. and maybe, if you didn't know her, you would have been more distracted by nico's vocals or the drummer's twinkling hi-hats floating above the melody; you knew deep down that there was no possible way you'd have left without wanting to know her if you didn't.

you gripped your cup like it would fall out of your hands as the last song of the night started and a groovy, familiar sequence pulsed into the floor and up your legs. it was that same note progression that had been keeping you up for the last few weeks, the one jo played over and over every night until it became part of your dreams. you couldn't have imagined how perfect she looked playing it in front of you, how perfect she looked playing it flawlessly.

all the practice paid off, evidently, no matter how much sleep it costed you.

euijoo and yuma cheered and whooped next to you, and you must have looked like you really did go on a date with jo. you looked like you went on several dates with her, eyes glossy and a grin growing wider over your lips the longer she melted into the song. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yuma jab euijoo with her elbow, nodding toward you with that shit-eating grin you knew so well. she muttered something, also shit-eating, and clinked her half-empty beer can against euijoo's. a toast, just for you. you felt your smile waiver at the thought of how this might have been your final moments of peace. your final moments being perceived as honest, as well as a person capable of dating. it was nice to wear that mask for a while, but you were coming to terms with the possibility of having to take it off. your peace ended just as the final song was dwindling to a close and the only thing left was the low, lingering vibrations of jo's guitar.

how poetic, you thought, that the soundtrack to your humiliation was the same song that got you here in the first place.

the air felt thick around you as the crowd began to clear. many attendees flocked to the bar, more left the venue entirely in clusters, but you, euijoo, and yuma stood close to the stage, still. euijoo flipped through photos she took of nico on her digital camera, boasting about how cool her friend looked and patting herself on the back for the lighting settings she was experimenting with. yuma kept her attention on you, though, watching as you rocked anxiously on your heels. there wasn't a crowd to hide in anymore, no curtain to pull in front of you to shield your feelings from yuma, who had learned to read you like an open book over your years of friendship. you hoped that your nerves could be mistaken for jitters, for the anticipation of meeting your "date" and introducing her to your friends. you hoped that you could make that differentiation yourself; jo wasnt your date.

"there you are," jo's voice, unusually rough, pulled your attention from the floor, where you were committing every scuff to memory. she sauntered to your side in long, effortless strides— the kind of bravado only a rockstar could have. her eyes scanned yours, questioning in a way only you could recognize, as she got closer, begging you to trust her without knowing you already did. she extended her arms, stretching them out on either side of her chest: a hug. no, an embrace; a lover's embrace, warm, familiar. you mirrored her smile and slid your arms around her torso, exhaling a shaky breath as she caged you in, squeezing you close. you felt her voice before you heard it, felt it against your cheek on her chest, "my good luck charm, what'd you think?"

you couldn't help but giggle a little at the nickname. she was good at this. but so were you, pulling back to face her and realizing you didn't even have to pretend anymore. you smiled, "you were… incredible, jo. i've never seen anything quite like that before."

"like what?" she smirked, leaning down to meet your stare. her cheeks were flushed, still simmering from the adrenaline and the heat. you could feel it, standing so close to her, closer than you'd ever been. usually, your interactions with jo spanned a couple feet as you both unlocked your doors or were physically divided by a wall, barely interactions at all. so this, having your feet slotted between hers with your laces tangling, having her hands sliding down your arms in tantalizing strokes— it was making your face burn, too.

"impressive," you said, definitively. even though you'd heard the songs before, you'd only heard one strand of them. it was actually very cool to hear every element instead of just the one, and it was even cooler to see jo in her element. she was magnetic, addictive, even more so up close. she quirked her eyebrows up, as if she were genuinely surprised to hear the compliment.

she smiled and asked, only for you, "you really think so?"

"mhm," you nodded. then, you swallowed the nerves you'd been carrying all evening, the weight on your tongue, in a gulp that had to have been audible. your fingers trembled a bit as you lifted your hand and smoothed her hair behind her ear. her eyes scanned your face with an unspoken encouragement. your voice was soft, low, "i couldn't take my eyes off of you."

for a moment, the two of you were alone; everyone else had cleared the room, her bandmates had packed up their equipment, and the bartenders had put away every glass. for a moment, not even yuma or euijoo were watching as jo brought her fingertips from your side and straight to your chin, tilting your head up like she might kiss you. and for a moment, you wanted her to, even if it was just for show.

"jo!" euijoo exclaimed, startling the both of you as she finally pulled her face out of her camera. she skipped over and threw herself into her friend's arms and, consequently, shoved you out. jo spared you an apologetic glance, but you were laughing, entertained by your friend's unusually affectionate nature. the can in her hand was nearly empty. her voice was too sincere for the situation, "we are your biggest fans. dont ever forget that." she patted jo affirmingly on the shoulder, "or me. when you're super mega famous and stuff."

jo laughed, "understood, juju. you'll be the first i thank at any award show, okay?"

"that's what i like to hear," euijoo pulled back and held her chest, performatively moved by jo's promise. she wiped a fake tear from her cheek before dissolving into a fit of laughter, and jo wasn't too far behind. euijoo sighed, swirling the last swallow of liquid in her can as she felt for her camera in her pocket, "i'm gonna find nico, but it was great to see you." and euijoo spared you an obvious, painful-looking wink as she skipped away.

you suddenly felt the weight return, settling on your tongue, cementing your feet to the floor. yuma's eyes jumped from you to jo and back to you, searching, scanning. she collected information and filed it away, all behind a usually stoic expression. this time, however, she wore a smile, a glint of something satisfied wavering in her eyes.

"so," yuma's voice was lilted, carrying like treble, "jo, how'd you two meet?"

it was a test, of course. you knew this would happen, planned for it, even. yuma hadn't believed you in the cafe, and you knew she wouldn't stop until she could confirm or deny your story for herself. luckily, you told jo everything, in almost identical detail to what you told euijoo and yuma, which was a humiliating consequence of having daydreamed so much about what you wanted from a date. the flaw in your story was that you failed to account for jo living in your building. it was the weakest thread. you prayed that jo remembered her lines. just say we met at the bookstore, you had told her, i'm always there, so it won't be unbelievable.

jo smiled to herself, "well, we're neighbors," she slung her arm over your shoulder, pulling you into her side, "but it was funny that we ran into each other at the little bookshop— what's it called? Booked n' Busy?"

"Booked n' Busy," you confirmed, relief washing over you.

but jo kept going beyond what you had told her to say.

"she was holding two books, and i asked if she wanted some help choosing which to buy," jo breathed a laugh, as if she had actually been there. she smiled as if it had happened at all. "and i'm no bookworm, but she was buried inside the covers, reading the first few pages of each like she wasn't standing in the middle of the aisle."

yuma crossed her arms again, watching the way jo's eyes never flickered from your face as she spoke. she asked, "which book did you pick for her?"

"neither," jo squeezed your shoulder, "she had already read both of them."

it was your turn to laugh. if you'd have scripted that, you would have added something quippy about limited edition covers or how books deserve to be read more than once, but you were so caught off guard by the way jo had improvised such a sweet anecdote. you were surprised by how real it seemed, how endearing she had made you, how enamored she sounded as she relived it. you wondered if jo had spent her nights dreaming of the perfect date, too. part of you wondered if you were a stand-in or if you had been the main character of that story all along. it was so natural to cover your face, to hide your burning cheeks as you laughed softly.

"typical," yuma rolled her eyes, "she likes what she likes."

"i really do," you confirmed, leaning your head against jo. the implication made your heart jump, and you let it. for realism, you thought. she wasn't just your hot neighbor anymore, but you recognized that she hadn't been just anything for a while. you admired her passion, her kindness, her humor. and, now, you admired her willingness to stick out a potentially uncomfortable situation to help a near-stranger out. she was selfless, and it made your stomach flip.

yuma paused a beat, watching the way jo smiled down at you and you didn't even know it. she sighed, obviously exhausted by the show and from watching you and jo fawn over each other a little too convincingly, "i'm gonna find euijoo and head out. you coming?"

you stood up straight, smoothing your palms over your clothes, "oh, yeah. i'll-"

"i can take you," jo offered, her arm still draped behind you, "i live pretty close by."

she was being serious. if nothing else, jo was genuinely kind. you lied, roped her into it, and, now, she was offering you a ride home. and instead of heading back with your two closest friends, you accepted her offer, nodding and slinking back into her while yuma scrambled to find euijoo backstage. you lingered around for the next half hour, merely observing as jo unplugged amps and pushed equipment around. you had offered to help, but she insisted that you sit and look pretty while she packed everything away with her bandmates.

it surprised you that it didn't feel awkward. all around, jo was taking this very well. even when you told her about the lie and how you needed her help, all she seemed to care about was that you were coming to the show. was it a numbers thing? did they have a quota to meet to be able to continue to play at the venue, like a set number of attendees that you personally helped them reach?

you expected some kind of debt to pay. it would only be right for you to help jo out in some way in the future, and you would without a second thought. if she needed furniture moved, you were right next door and pretty skilled with a set of sliders. if she needed groceries, you went every week; you'd even buy her produce for the next month or more if she asked. there were few things jo could ask of you that, in the moment, you wouldn't do.

"what are you doing tomorrow?" jo's voice jolted you from your trance. and the timing was perfect! tomorrow, you were free for a plethora of favor-related activities. it was the ideal time to move a couch or pick the ripest avocados.

"nothing," you answered, "why?"

when you looked up, jo was swimming in an oversized zip-up. her hair was fully dried, no longer damp from the performance. she looked impossibly cute while towering over you as you sat on the stage steps. her guitar case was strapped to her back, and she fidgeted with the band across her chest. jo was… nervous? she didn't show it otherwise, her voice still strong, feet planted firmly before you. but her fingers, calloused and adept, wandered down the case's strap as she worked up what you thought was an endless supply of courage.

"i'm gonna take you on a date," jo said, smiling. she was no longer mysterious, no longer unattainable. you worried for a second that she pitied you, that voice in your head that kept you reserved urging you to deny her before it was too late. but then she reached forward and grabbed your wrist with a shaking, vulnerable hand, "a real date." she lined your fingers up and slotted hers between yours, the fit so natural that it almost took your breath away. "and then we can tell yuma and euijoo how perfect it was."

maybe you could be lucky in love, after all.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@jocochipcookie @girleuijoo @bubbletsworld @7yataki @xionvlog

@luv4jaeyun @minhosimthings @eunyih @euijooswife @doyoueverthinkofrose

@kp0pst4rr @cherryydab @heesoulnotes @nctspersonaltherapist @yuversi

@s3ungh4nsgf @luperque @pytlune @d3adg1rlie @strawberory

@bloomedberry @lunenet @yuyuppie @euijooswife @yuyudai