Sei
I Don't Like Your Girlfriend - Remix
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I feel Suyeon climb into bed with me. I roll over toward her, wrap my arms around her and say “Good night, baby.” But my eyes fly open when I hear Lucy — not Suyeon! — say “Oops! Wrong bed!”
“Lucy? What the hell?” This was about the last thing I expected.
“I thought I was getting into Lua’s bed,” Lucy says. “She said I could climb in bed with her whenever I have a nightmare.” I can see her well enough to see that she’s trying to looking around in the near-complete darkness. “Oh. I guess my eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark. I see now.”
She starts to climb out of my bed, but I grab her arm and stopped her. “Wait,’ I say. “Before you go, I want to talk to you for a second.”
She rolls over to face me. We can just barely see each other, but I can tell she’s looking into my eyes. “Sure,” she says. “What’s up? Something wrong?”
“I just. . . I was. . .” I have trouble finding words in tense situations like this sometimes. When we were together, Lucy used to help me out when I’d get stuck like this, but I guess she’s not doing that anymore. “I. . . How are you doing?”
“I told,” she said. “I just had a nightmare. I was being chased, and I’d try to run but my legs wouldn’t work right—”
“No, not right this second,” I say, cutting her off before she really gets going on telling me about her dream. “I meant, how are you doing for the last couple of days, since we. . . that is, since I. . . you know. . .”
“Since you dumped me?” she asks. I nod, chagrined — she finally decides to help me when I can’t find the words and that’s where she helps. She’s not wrong, though. . . I can see her looking up at the ceiling, like she does when she’s trying to compose her thought. “I’m doing okay,” she says. “I’ve been doing some reading whenever I get spare time.” She turns to look at me again. “Speaking of which, can I ask you a question? Something I read doesn’t sound right, and I wanted to get an unnie’s perspective.”
This sets alarm bells going off in my head. Because she’s the youngest member, Lucy always complains about the age-based stratification of Korean life. I’ve lost track of how many times I had to listen to her rant that just because someone was older it didn’t mean they were wiser or smarter. And now all of a sudden she’s deliberately seeking an unnie’s input? This feels like a trap, but there’s nothing I can do but step into it and see where she’s going with this. “Sure,” I say. “You can always ask me anything.”
“Well,” she begins, propping her head up on her hand and getting comfortable, “I was reading something yesterday, and there was a second toward the end where it talked about the
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