One Thing to Another

The front door opened. Haewon walked through, tossing her bag on the counter and kicking her shoes off. 

“You’re back early,” you said, not looking up from your phone.

“I skipped my last class.” She shrugged. “I’m not sitting through stat on a Friday.”

“Fair enough.”

She opened the fridge, stared into it for a few seconds, then closed it.

“So,” she said, leaning against the counter. “There’s a party tonight.”

“I heard.” 

“Good.” She joined you on the couch. “So?”

“Am I carrying you home again?”

Haewon grinned. “Who knows? But I’m not the one who passed out in our bathroom last time.”

“Hey. I cleaned up after myself afterward.”

“The bar is in hell,” she said. “So we’re going?”

“Yeah. I’m down.”

You never really met Haewon; she just kind of appeared.

Freshman year, her door was directly across from yours. On the first morning of classes, you opened your door to see her doing the same thing as you. You’d exchange a quick nod, only to end up walking the same path to the same class. The next day, the same. On the third day, she spoke up, saying it’d be weirder if you didn’t walk to class together.

So, you started walking to class together. Eventually, you started waiting at her door whenever she’d run late, which ended up being quite often. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she’d say, still tying her hair up as she stumbled out. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Your alarm doesn’t go off every day.”

“Whatever. Let’s go. We’re late.”

“We’re late because of you.”

"Details." She'd wave you off and start walking ahead.

It took about four days for her to get comfortable with you. At first, she was reserved. Small talk as you walked to class, still figuring each other out. By the end of the first week, the filter had come off. Her sense of humor could only be described as the worst type of unhinged, and even she knew it. Sometimes, you’d match her. You’d play into whatever bit she had going, making it even worse. Other times, you’d look at her and say nothing, letting her sit with the embarrassment of whatever cringe joke she’d spat out. 

To you, that was Haewon. Weird, off-putting humor from whatever depths of the internet she was on. One night, she texted you at 3 AM saying she hadn’t even started on the presentation she was supposed to give in six hours. You woke up to the message and almost felt bad for her. She was quieter than usual on the walk over, which you figured meant she was screwed. She gave the best presentation of everyone, then sat back down next to you like it was nothing.

By sophomore year, things had gotten too comfortable. She had figured out that you never locked your door, a fact she exploited often. You’d come back from class to find her on your couch, shoes off, rummaging through your snacks. She’d show up at midnight to complain about an assignment, lock in to finish her work, then annoy you while you were trying to focus on yours. For junior year, getting a place together just made sense. You'd been through everything together—you’d blown up on her during an all-nighter on finals week, she’d cried in your arms after the worst night of her life. You’d seen every side of each other, and none of it changed a thing.

One of Haewon's friends asked you once, a few months after you’d moved in together. 

“So… like, why aren’t you two dating?”

“Hm? Why would we be?”

“You literally live together. And she’s hot. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I’m not looking for anything. And besides, we’ve been good for three years now.”

She raised an eyebrow at that.

“Sounds like you’re just deflecting.”

She wasn’t wrong, you knew that. But you weren’t going to make a move on your best friend and risk your friendship because she was attractive. Things were already good the way they were. If something happened, fine, but you weren’t going to force it.

Haewon was next to you on the couch, knee against yours, scrolling on her phone.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you said, pushing yourself up off the couch. “Before you take forever in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand at you. “Whatever. Go get ready.”

You showered and got dressed in about twenty minutes. Black jeans, a linen overshirt over a clean white tee, a watch, and chain. You stepped out, and she was still on her phone.

“So, how do I look?”

She put her phone down, and looked you up and down.

She whistled.

“Okay. I see you,” she said, nodding. “What a fuckboy you are.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Go get ready. We don’t have all day.”

“Mhm.” She got up. “You better not have used all of the hot water.”

She took forty-five minutes, which was faster than you’d expected.

She came down the hallway still putting in an earring. A fitted button-up tucked into a black skirt, with knee high boots.

“How’s this?” she asked.

You looked for a second longer than you needed.

You clicked your tongue and gave her the okay sign. “Pretty good.”

You stood up off the couch. “Okay, are we going right away? Or should we pregame a bit?”

“Dumb ass question,” she said, opening the cabinet where you kept your liquor. “Who’s walking into a party sober?”

After two shots each, the two of you started heading out. The walk was about fifteen minutes. Haewon talked the whole time.