not my fault ➛ 1/2
part two
✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader
✦ summary: discovering that a cute girl you saw at your college orientation is your roommate, you become eager to get to know her. however, things quickly go awry when she turns out to be much more difficult to get along with than you could've imagined and abruptly leaves you in the dust. fueled by your terrible experiences with her and rumors about her dating habits, you swear to stay away from her at all costs. will you be able to keep your promise?
✦ genre/au: fluff, my poor attempt at a rom-com, college!au, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, (very slight) roommates to lovers
✦ word count: 11k (im so embarrassed)
✦ warnings: isn't proofread bc this is toooo long. unrealistic portrayal of room-switching in college bc it's never that easy or quick irl. smut in part 2
✦ a/n: part 2 is already finished & will be posted very very soon. so, this is my first time writing a fanfic in like...years. this feels very strange, but i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope someone out there has a lot of fun reading it! also, although this fic doesn't really have anything to do with the lyrics, this song was somewhat inspired by not my fault by renee rapp and megan thee stallion. <3.
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It was the first day of orientation at Seoul University, and you were utterly bored.
You were sitting on a bench outside of the campus auditorium, people-watching as you waited for the opening ceremony to start. It was a hot day with the sun beating down on everyone, prompting an array of glistening foreheads and crinkling water bottles. There was a line of cars in front of you, people getting out with eager smiles and a mischievous glint in their eyes as they stepped onto the concrete, admiring what would be their home for the next four or more years. Your ears were filled with the excited chatter of hundreds of people, meeting new friends and catching up with old ones.
You sat there, the sun warming your skin, looking for something or someone interesting while you waited for orientation to begin.
You watched as a pairing, presumably mother and daughter, pulled up in a sleek car. They got out, and the mother began taking pictures of the daughter. The daughter looked around the campus with a wide grin on her face.
You looked away, taking a sip from your hydroflask. A boy wearing a shirt with your school's mascot. Boring. A congregation of girls who were so obviously here for sorority life, you almost laughed.
A tall, dark-haired woman, with blue highlights, bangs, and thick, black-rimmed glasses, surrounded by a group of people.
You raised an eyebrow. That was interesting.
There were people crowded around her. Guys. Girls. Some, you presumed, were family. They all seemed to have their eyes on her.
You wondered why. As she talked, you studied her.
Her lips were moving, her facial expressions soft and open. Her voice was quiet, though, and you couldn't hear her words. She was pretty, extremely pretty, with luscious lips and a full nose. You liked her eyes the best. They were dark brown, but when the light caught them, they shined.
She had a smile on her face, her head tilted, her hair cascading over her shoulders. It looked like a scene from a movie, her standing there, the wind blowing through her hair, the sun shining on her features.
She was laughing now, at something one of the guys had said. It was nice to watch. It made you feel warm. You smiled.
And then the girl looked at you.
You looked away, trying to pretend like you were not staring. But after a few moments, you stole a glance back. Her eyes were on you, her brow furrowed, a look of confusion on her face.
You blushed, feeling embarrassed. You looked down, staring at your nails.
“Holy shit it’s hot out here. If I pass out, I’m suing the school for child endangerment, because it is absolutely insane that we're still out here. Take your stupid water”
You looked up. Your friend, Lusher, was standing there, her hair frizzy, her makeup done, outstretching her hand to offer you the water bottle you told her to fetch, and dramatically holding her other hand to her forehead.
You laughed, grabbing the water bottle. “Thanks, but I don’t think you can sue them for child endangerment if you’re not a minor, Lush.”
“I may not be a minor, but there are definitely some here. I’m just advocating for them! We need to make sure that children have a voice.”
You laughed, uncapping the bottle and taking a drink.
Lusher plopped down next to you. She looked around, scanning the place as you did. The attractive girl you were previously admiring was still standing there, laughing and chatting with others, people flocking to her like a moth to a flame. So, you did the only logical thing that a woman would do in your position—gossip to your friend about it. You tapped your friend on your shoulder repeatedly. She looked at you, an eyebrow raised.
You nod your head in the direction of the girl, and her eyes follow. You could practically see her mind whirring.
"Well, hello there. Who is that?" Lusher said, wiggling her eyebrow, a smirk on her lips.
"I don't know!" you said, throwing your arms out. "That's what I was gonna ask you."
"Not you already having a crush. It's not even our first day, yet, y/n," Lusher teased.
"Oh shut up," you groaned.
Lusher squinted. "She does actually look a little familiar."
You shifted toward her, excited. "Really? How?"
"Like I've seen her around campus before or something. Or maybe Instagram? I'm not sure."
You nodded, watching as the girl said something, and the group around her laughed. Lusher glanced at you, observing your staring, and laughed.
"What are you even doing you stalker? Go talk to her!" she insisted, nudging your shoulder.
"What!? No. No. Absolutely not. Not happening," you exclaimed, shaking your head and holding your hands up.
"Why not?" Lusher whines.
"Because there are 5,000 people surrounding her, Lush," you said, vaguely pointing at the group of people around her. "I'm not about to compete with that. No, thank you. I'll pass."
"Y/N," she groaned.
"Lusher," you replied, mocking her tone.
She huffed, rolling her eyes. You laughed.
"You're ridiculous," Lusher said.
"Thank you," you responded, a satisfied grin on your face.
You took a final sip of your water and then closed the cap. "Come on. It's almost time to go in."
You grabbed your friend's arm, pulling her up. She grumbled, and you chuckled, walking her toward the auditorium. As you walked away, you felt the gaze of a pair of shiny eyes following you.
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Your mother groans, dropping the last box into the tiny bedroom. "That's the last one. My back is officially fucked."
"Mom, please stop swearing," you say, cringing.
"You swear all the time," she retorts.
"And where do I get that from?" you shoot back.
"You're my child. I can swear in front of you," she responds, ignoring your comment.
"Uh, no. You can't. You're old," you say, picking up one of the boxes and ripping the tape off.
"I prefer the term 'mature'," your mother corrects.
"What about 'ancient?'" you ask, faking seriousness.
She rolls her eyes, grabbing one of your shirts and throwing it at you. You giggle, ducking to the side and letting it fall on the floor. She laughs, and you laugh too, and then you're both giggling uncontrollably. When you're laughing fit is over, you begin taking things out of another box.
The two of you spend the next few hours unpacking and organizing. You are not surprised when your mother decides that she likes her decorating ideas better, and rearranges everything. Finally, the two of you finish, and you step back, admiring the room. Your mom puts her arm around your shoulder.
"I think it looks good. What about you?"
You nod, smiling. "It does."
She sighs, leaning into you, and you wrap your arm around her waist.
"Are you hungry?" she asks, squeezing you tighter.
"Yeah. Starving."
"Good. Because I have some-"
The sound of your door opening cuts her off. You both turn around, and your heart leaps in your throat. Standing in the doorway is the pretty girl from the first day of orientation, wearing cargo pants and a hoodie.
You're too stunned to speak. She's staring at you, and you're staring back. Neither of you says a word.
After what feels like a long time, your mother speaks, her voice filled with curiosity. "Hello? Can we help you?"
The girl's eyes snap to your mother, her eyebrows raising slightly.
"Oh. Uh...hi. I'm sorry. I'm Bada. Your new roommate," the girl, Bada, says, her voice soft and smooth.
"Oh, yes. You are," your mom responds, a wide grin on her face. She extends her arm. "Hi, Bada. I'm Y/N's mom. Nice to meet you."
Bada's eyes widen, and she gives you an almost nervous smile, her gaze flickering between you and your mom. She reaches her hand out and takes your mother's. "Nice to meet you, too, ma'am."
Your mother laughs. "No need to call me ma'am, dear. Please, call me by my name. And please, come in."
Bada hesitates, her gaze shifting to you, as if she's asking for permission. You smile softly, nodding your head, and she returns the gesture, entering the room.
"So, you're Y/N's new roommate. Tell me about yourself," your mother prompts, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.
Bada's eyes flick back to you, her smile turning awkward. "Um, well, I'm from Incheon, and I'm a freshman. I'm majoring in dance," Bada says, her words sounding rehearsed.
Your mother nods. "Cool. Dance, huh? Do you perform?"
"Oh, um, yeah," Bada shuffles her feet a bit. "Sometimes. I was on the dance team back at my high school."
"Very cool. How's move-in day so far?"
"Good. Yours?"
"Great," your mother responds.
Bada's gaze turns back to you, and you shift, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Your mother seems not to notice, or she does not care.
"Are you here with your parents?" your mother asks.
"Uh, no. Just my mom and sister," Bada responds.
"I see. Where are they?"
"Getting dinner," Bada replies, her voice still soft.
"Ah," your mother says. She glances between the two of you, a knowing look in her eyes. "Well, I suppose I'll leave you two to get to know each other. It was nice meeting you, Bada."
"You too, Mrs. Y/L/N."
"Please, dear, call me by my first name," your mother responds, reaching out and touching Bada's shoulder.
Bada smiles, and then your mother exits the room, leaving the two of you alone.
"Nice meeting you," Bada says, her tone polite.
"Nice meeting you too, Bada," you reply.
A moment passes. The tension is palpable. You can tell she's unsure of what to do, or say.
"Do you, uh, need help bringing your stuff in?" you ask, breaking the silence.
"Oh, no. I'm fine," she responds.
"Okay," you reply.
More silence. Bada is still looking at you, her expression guarded. You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.
"Is, um, this okay? Am I, uh, being a nuisance or anything?" you ask, choosing to stare at the wall behind her.
"Huh?"
"I mean, I can leave if I'm making you uncomfortable or anything. I don't want to be a bother," you say, shuffling your feet.
"No. No. Not at all," she replies, shaking her head.
"Oh, okay. Good," you respond, smiling.
She does not return the gesture. Her eyes are still on you, and her body is tense. You wonder if she's afraid of you, or something.
"So," you begin, clasping your hands together. "I guess I'll show you to your side of the room, then."
"Oh, um, okay," she replies, her voice still quiet.
"Here. Let me help you with that," you offer, stepping forward and grabbing one of her suitcases.
"No thank you. I've got it," she says, pulling the bag back.
"Okay. Whatever makes you comfortable," you say, letting go.
She drags the suitcase across the floor and sets it on the empty bed.
"I hope you don't mind. I didn't really get much choice in the furniture department. You're lucky you got the bigger bed," you say, laughing nervously.
"No, it's okay. Thank you," she replies, a tight smile on her lips.
"No problem," you respond, rocking back and forth on your heels.
Another moment of awkward silence passes. Bada begins unzipping the suitcase, taking out folded clothes and laying them on her bed.
"Can I, uh, get you anything? Like, some water or snacks or something?"
"No thank you. That's very kind, though," she says, her back turned to you.
"Okay. Cool. If you need anything, let me know. I'm always here," you respond, smiling.
"I'll keep that in mind," she replies, not looking at you.
"Well, okay. I'll just...leave you to it, then," you say, and then turn around and go sit at your desk, deciding not to push her.
You pull your laptop out, placing it on the desk, and log onto the college's wifi. You lean back in your chair, alternating between reading your syllabi and watching as she unloads her belongings. She has a lot of things. Clothes, books, shoes, accessories, makeup. She even has a large speaker system, which is surprising, considering the small dorm.
After a while, Bada stops, having finally finished unpacking. She stretches her arms above her head, revealing a tiny sliver of her stomach and the waistband of her boxers. Your cheeks burn, and you quickly look away.
"Hey, y/n?"
"Hm?" you ask, spinning around.
"Do you know where the bathroom is?" she asks.
"Oh, yeah. It's just down the hall," you reply, pointing to the door.
"Okay. Thank you," she says, standing up and leaving the room.
You sigh, and then get up, going over and plopping down on your bed. You could not get a read on this woman. When you saw her at orientation, she seemed so open, so friendly, so charismatic. But, right now, it was like you were talking to a wall. You couldn't help but feel a bit peeved. You wanted her to at least like you a little bit, or even tolerate you, but she was barely willing to even talk to you.
You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. Maybe she was just tired, or had a bad day. That's probably it. That had to be it. Which, is fine. You were her roommate. You had a year to become friends. You'd be fine.
You pull out your phone, deciding to scroll through social media. After a few minutes, Bada returns and sits on her bed.
"Did you find it?" you ask, not looking up.
"Yep," she replies.
"That's good," you start, sitting up and scooting toward the edge of your bed. "Hey, I was thinking, since we're gonna be roommates and all, we should get to know each other, ya know?"
Bada turns, a blank expression on her face.
"So, dance," you continue. "What's that like?"
Bada's face changes, the guarded look falling away, replaced with an excited smile. "Dancing? Oh, it's wonderful. I've loved dancing for as long as I can remember," Bada gushes, her eyes lighting up. "I've been doing it my whole life. My mom and sister dance, too, actually."
You grin, her excitement contagious. "That's great. How many of you are dancers?"
"Just the three of us. Me, my mom, and my sister. Well, actually, my mom is retired now, and she's teaching classes at the studio," Bada continues, her smile growing wider.
"That's amazing," you respond, leaning forward. "Do you all perform together?"
"All the time. My mom owns a studio, and she teaches there. We teach classes and choreograph, and then, when we have enough students, we'll have shows," Bada answers, her voice becoming softer, and less animated.
"That sounds really cool. Do you, like, teach little kids and stuff?"
"Oh, no. Not really. I mean, we do, but only if a student's parents ask. Our main audience is teens, and adults," she explains.
"Wow," you say, nodding. "That's awesome. I can't imagine what that's like."
"It's a lot of fun," Bada replies, her eyes sparkling.
"What about your dad? Is he a dancer, too?"
"My father's not in the picture," Bada says, her eyes dimming a bit.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," you mumble, suddenly feeling awkward.
"It's alright," Bada responds, her tone flat.
"Well, anyway, that's cool," you say, changing the subject. "What's the studio like?"
"It's really nice. We have a small space, but it's cozy," she says, her eyes regaining some of their previous luster. "We've got a lot of mirrors and equipment, and the lights are low."
"Really? God, what you do sounds so cool."
"You think so?" Bada asks, her eyebrows raised.
"Totally. I'm kinda jealous," you admit.
"Thanks. It's nice to hear someone say that," she replies, grinning.
"Anytime," you say, returning the gesture.
The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, and you lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Suddenly, your phone pings, and you glance at the screen. It's a text message from Lusher.
Lush: hey u ready for ur first college party???
Y/N: no lol i'm exhausted from setting up.
Lush: oh come on. im trying to meet some cute guys here. dont make me go alone
Y/N: haha i'm gonna stay in tonight. maybe tomorrow or next weekend
Lush: boo. well, the invitation is always open. if u change ur mind, come find me.
Y/N: ok will do. ttyl
"Is that your mom?" Bada asks, interrupting your thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Your phone," she clarifies, motioning to the device in your hand.
"Oh, no, just a friend from high school, Lusher. She goes here," you explain, sliding your phone onto your bedside table. "She was trying to invite me to a party to scout out the scene for boys."
"Ah," Bada replies, turning her attention back to her side of the room.
"But there's no way I'm going tonight. I'm way too tired after all of that packing," you continue, lying down.
"Understandable," Bada replies, not looking at you.
"So, I'm pretty hungry? Wanna go to the dining hall and get some food, or something?" you ask.
"No thank you. I think I'm just going to take a nap," she says, scooting under her covers and turning her body toward the wall.
"Oh, okay. Alright," you say, feeling a bit disappointed.
It seems like you are back to square one. You sigh, and then turn around, facing the wall. This was going to be a long year. You reach for your headphones, plugging them into your phone, and put on a playlist, trying to ignore the slight ache in your chest. You were not sure why, but, for some reason, it hurt. You shake your head, pushing the feeling down. No, you were not upset. You were not going to be upset. Everything was going to be fine with time. You stand up, grabbing your backpack, and then exit the room, closing the door quietly behind you. The least you could do was give her some privacy. Maybe she needed some time to adjust to sharing a room with someone.
You enter the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, and try to clear your head. No. Things would get better. She would warm up. You just needed to be patient. The elevator dings, and the doors open, and you step out, walking toward the cafeteria. You just needed to wait. She would come around. You were sure of it.
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Your alarm blares loudly. You groan, rolling over and snoozing it. The sun is barely up. You feel like a zombie.
You reach over and grab your phone. 7:30 am. Time for a run.
You slowly slide out of bed, wincing at the cold floor. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glance around the room. It looks exactly the same, except for the fact that your roommate is gone.
You yawn, stretching, and then walk over to her bed. The sheets are perfectly tucked, the pillows arranged neatly, and the blanket is smoothed out. She must have made her bed before leaving. You frown.
"I wonder what time she wakes up," you murmur, running a hand over the blanket.
You throw on some clothes, put your earbuds in, and stretch, before leaving the room.
As you walk through the hallway, your thoughts are still hazy with sleep. You have never been a morning person. But, running helps.
You take the elevator down to the lobby, and then exit the building, jogging onto the sidewalk. A cool breeze whips your hair around. You shiver, pulling the drawstrings of your hoodie tight. After a few minutes, you find a nice rhythm, your breathing steadying, the music calming your nerves. You pass the same few people, most of them in a similar state as you. Groggy. Disheveled. Exhausted. After 30 minutes, you start feeling warm. Your heart is pounding, and your chest is heaving. You slow to a walk, and then stop, resting against a tree.
You close your eyes and listen to the birds, the leaves, the wind. It's nice. Calming.
"Y/n?" a familiar voice asks.
Your eyes snap open, and you turn. A woman is standing there, a shocked look on her face.
Oh no, you think, once you realize who it is."Aiki?"
"Woah, I knew it was you," Aiki says, her eyes wide.
"Yeah," you chuckle awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck.
"What are you doing here?" Aiki asks, her mouth hanging open.
"I go here now. I'm a student. I have clases here," you overexplain
"Wow, okay," Aiki says, taking a breath. "So, how have you been? What are you studying? What's been going on with you? God, y/n, it's been forever."
"Yeah, it has. Um, I've been good. Just, ya know, moving and stuff so far. Haven't declared a major yet, though," you respond, feeling taken aback by her excitement.
"I see. Well, I actually have to go, but we should totally hang out. Maybe have coffee sometime, or something. Catch up," Aiki suggests, her eyes sparkling.
"Sure, yeah, that sounds great," you say, nodding.
"Cool, well, I'll see you around," Aiki says, a smirk on her face.
"See ya," you reply, waving as she turns and jogs off.
You stare after her, a strange feeling in your stomach. You had not seen Aiki since junior year of high school, when the two of you were forced to go on a trip with the rest of your class. During that week, the two of you became close, and, by the end, you were basically inseparable. The two of you spent the entire week attached at the hip, going sightseeing, exploring, and, on the last night, you even kissed her. It was a perfect week. And then, after the trip was over, you never spoke again. She transferred schools, and the two of you lost contact. And now, here she is, back in your life.
You shake your head, chuckling softly. It is almost too much. First, your hot roommate, and now, Aiki. The universe is messing with you.
You start walking again, continuing your route. You run for another hour, the sun now fully risen. Your skin is glowing with sweat, and you can't help but smile. You are feeling great.
You stop by the showers, washing up, and then head to the cafeteria. The line is long, and, despite the early hour, it is packed. You grab a tray, loading it with eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and a glass of orange juice.
"Oh my god, save some for the rest of us," a voice exclaims from behind you.
You turn, startled, finding Lusher behind you, grinning.
"Jesus, Lush, you scared me," you say, shaking your head.
"Sorry, didn't mean to, but seriously, I'm starving. Move faster," she complains, her eyes falling to your full plate.
"What are you even doing here so early? It's Saturday. You're never up at this time," you question, raising an eyebrow.
"The beds here suck. Couldn't stay asleep."
"So, you just came here?"
"Duh. They have free breakfast," she responds, her eyes wide.
"Right," you reply, not convinced.
"I'm serious. Besides, it's not like there's anything else to do this early on a Saturday," she adds.
"Okay, whatever," you say, rolling your eyes.
"So, how was the rest of the move-in? Is your roomate cool?" Lusher questions.
"Actually," you begin. "You'd never guess who my roommate is."
"Who?" she prompts.
"The hot girl I saw at orientation."
"No. Shut. Up," she responds, her eyes widening.
"I'm not kidding. Her name is Bada. She's a dance major."
"Holy shit, no wonder she looked familiar when I saw her. I think I've seen her around dance competitions and showcases."
"You have?"
"Yeah, a few times. She's really good. Damn," Lusher says, shaking her head.
"Well, I wish she'd open up more," you say, frowning.
"Why? Is she mean or something?"
"No, I mean, I'm not sure. She's kind of quiet. I'm not really sure how to describe it. She's not super friendly or anything, and we haven't talked a lot," you respond.
"Hmm, that's weird. I have a few dance friends who've interacted with her before. From what I've been told she's super nice."
"I guess. Anyway, she's not really interested in being my friend, which is fine. But, it's weird, 'cause it seems like she's super popular. She knows a ton of people. I don't get why she's so weird around me."
"Maybe she's nervous or something. I mean, you're kinda cute, after all."
"Shut up, no, I'm not," you deny, rolling your eyes.
"Whatever you say, y/n," Lusher smirks.
"You're crazy," you mutter, grabbing a juice box.
"Well, I hope you can change her mind. She's definitely cute."
"Thanks, Lush," you respond, not really meaning it.
The two of you grab seats near the windows. The food is mediocre, but your stomach is full and that's all that matters. You spend the next few hours chatting with Lusher about school, classes, and other things. Deciding you've had enough of the dining hall, you take Lusher to your dorm room, wanting to show her what your side of the room looks like. However, as soon as you open the door, you are met with the sight of Bada's side of the room-empty side of the room. Her bed is still perfectly made, and her closet is shut tight, and the desk is cleared off. Her things are gone, as if she was never there.
"What the hell?" you mutter, your eyes darting around the room.
"What's going on?" Lusher says, peering over your shoulder from the hallway.
"My roommate," you start.
"Bada, right?"
"Yeah. All her stuff is gone. Did she transfer or something?"
"Wait, what? Let me see," Lusher says, squeezing into the room and past you.
She scans the room, her eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure you weren't hallucinating her? Or having a strange wet dream?"
"Shut up. I'm serious. Look. Her bed is still made, and her side of the closet is completely empty," you insist, pointing.
"Well, maybe she's at class or something. Are you sure she's not just hanging out somewhere?"
"Why would she be? Class doesn't start for a couple days. And why would all of her stuff be gone?"
"Maybe she's one of those crazy studious types who starts early. And she has a very meticulous study routine that requires her room to be completely rid of stuff." Lusher suggests, shrugging.
"Who in the world would do all of that?"
"Someone who's organized. Maybe a person with OCD? A really anal-retentive neat freak?"
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"Hey, you asked," Lusher says, throwing her hands up in defense.
You're about to curse at her, when your phone vibrates. It's a text from the college housing office.
"What is it?" Lusher asks.
"It's from the housing office. They want to see me about a roommate complaint," you read aloud, frowning.
"Roomate complaint? That's weird. Why would they call you instead of her?"
"Maybe they're not able to get a hold of her. I don't know. I'm not sure," you say, scrolling through the message.
"Well, whatever, go find out. We can talk more later."
"You're not coming?"
"No, I'm tired. Gotta catch some Z's. Go figure this out."
"Fine. I'll talk to you later, then."
"Later, loser," she responds, before walking away.
You sigh and exit the building, beginning your walk to the housing office.
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"Hello? Anyone here?" you call, stepping inside.
"Ah, hello," a voice responds.
A man walks up, an overly friendly smile on his face. He extends his hand, initiating a handshake.
"Hi. I'm y/n," you start, shaking his hand. "I received a message saying you wanted to talk to me about a roommate complaint?"
He nods. "Yes, yes, of course. Please, follow me."
He gestures to a door, and you follow him into a small office. He motions for you to sit down, and you do, the chair squeaking loudly.
"Now, let's see," he begins, studying a piece of paper. "You're living in the new dorms, correct?"
"Yup," you confirm. "The one with the fancy bathrooms."
"Right, yes. So, your roommate is a Ms. Bada Lee?"
"Yes, that's her."
He sighs, letting the paper fall onto his desk. Clasping his hands together, he asks, "And, is there a problem between the two of you?"
You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable."I mean, not really. I haven't seen her since Friday morning. Why do you ask?"
The man clears his throat. "We received a notice from her this morning, stating that she no longer wanted to reside in her dorm with you. She requested a room transfer and had all her things moved out into another room."
Your heart sank. This had to be a joke
"I'm sorry, but...what? Why? Why would she do that? I barely know her," you protest, shaking your head.
"Unfortunately, the decision has already been made, and the paperwork has been processed," the man replies, a sympathetic look on his face.
"But, this doesn't make any sense," you insist, leaning forward in your seat. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"I'm afraid the reasons are confidential, as is standard practice. All I can tell you is that the decision was made by the student, and we must abide by it."
You fall back in your chair, scowling. "This isn't right."
"I apologize, Ms. y/n, but there's nothing we can do. I'll inform the RA's and staff to expect you for a new room assignment. You likely won't get a new roommate until next semester, though. Otherwise, we're done here. "
"Alright, thank you," you mutter, standing up and heading to the door.
"Thank you for your cooperation," he calls.
You slam the door and storm off, furious. This is complete bullshit. What could you have done yesterday that was so bad that Bada would request a room change and make a complaint?
As you walk back to the dorm, a thousand thoughts race through your head. Were you too loud the first night? Too pushy? Did you say something offensive or insult her?
You rack your brain, trying to remember if you said or did anything wrong, but nothing comes to mind. There was the one moment when you asked about her father, and she seemed a bit upset, but was that really it? Surely she couldn't have built resentment for you after that one, small slip-up. You even apologized to her.
Maybe she just thought you were annoying? You're as confused as ever, and, pissed off. Whatever the issue was, there was no way it was significant enough for her to go directly to the housing office. She could have spoken to you about it, and you could have worked something out but didn't give you the chance. From the moment you met her, she didn't give you a chance. And now you probably have some sort of criminal-esque record with the housing office because of it. Great.
When you arrive back at the dorm, you go straight to your bed, laying down and burying your face into the pillows.
"God damnit," you mumble, your frustration overwhelming.
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The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, with you alternating between fuming, moping, and ranting to Lusher about the incident with Bada. The more you thought about it, the more irritated you felt. Why did such a sexy person have to suck so bad?
Despite the annoyance, you decided not to focus on the issue, opting instead to hang out with Lusher and your other friends. By Sunday night, however, your emotions had shifted back to sadness, and you were once again moping about the incident.
Before you knew it, it was Monday morning, and time for classes. You were excited, yet anxious, about the beginning of the school year. Despite the rocky start, you were determined to make the most of it.
Currently, you're in your last class of the day, bored out of your mind. You're supposed to be taking notes, but your professor lost your attention halfway through the lecture. You fix your gaze on the window, where raindrops are running down the glass. It was cloudy and grey outside, and you could see a flash of lightning in the distance.
"And that concludes our lesson. Don't forget to check your emails because I will be sending you a reading assignment. Class dismissed."
The sound of people packing up their things and moving around causes you to snap out of your trance. You quickly gather your own materials and head out the door.
On the way back to the dorm, the sky opens up, and it starts pouring. You pick up the pace, wanting to avoid getting soaked. As you approach the entrance to your building, you slow down, spotting Bada walking toward you. She looks just as unhappy to be out in the rain as you are, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her hood hanging over her face.
Uh oh, you think, not expecting to see her.
"Um, hi," you stammer, attempting to appear friendly.
She stops in her tracks, eyeing you cautiously. "Uh, hey," she says, her tone cold.
You cross your arms. "So, um, how's your day been?"
"Fine," she replies curtly.
"Cool," you reply. "Enjoying your new room?"
"It's okay," she says, shrugging.
"That's nice," you respond, not sounding sincere.
An uncomfortable, but at this point, familiar, silence follows. You couldn't believe she wasn't taking this as an opportunity to apologize or explain what happened. If she weren't so tall and admittedly intimidating, you'd do something petty, like snatch the hood off of her head. Or pin her down until she fesses up. Or throw something at her pretty face to remind her that—yes, you are hot, but that doesn't mean you can escape consequences! But you're too gracious and realistic to do any of that, so you take the peaceful (though painful) route.
"Well, I should get inside, I don't want to get too wet," you state.
"Okay, yeah," she replies, giving you a curt nod.
"Uh, have a good day," you say, turning around and heading toward the door.
"Thanks, you too," she calls out.
She walks past you, and you can't help but turn around, watching her retreating figure. "What a weirdo," you mutter under your breath, heading up the stairs.
You hurry into the building, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
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Three months into the semester, you begin to hear Bada's name everywhere. Apparently, within the short time period, she's taken your school's dance team far and has gained quite a bit of attention for it. You're not surprised, given her athletic build and seemingly graceful demeanor. However, this has come with a price, and now, wherever you go, she seems to be there, her presence almost a constant. Similarly to when you first saw her at orientation, many people flock to her, and you hear a number of girls gossiping about how cool and attractive she is. With that, you begin to hear the rumors.
You've heard a lot of things about Bada, some good and some not-so-good. For example, you've heard that she's an excellent dancer and extremely talented. She's also very outgoing, sweet, and has a large group of friends. On the other hand, it seems as if she's built up a reputation for herself. You've heard people calling her a player and a flirt. Others have claimed that she sleeps with women just for fun, never sticking with anyone for too long.
You aren't sure what to believe, but you do know that your opinion of her is low. You still have no idea why she changed rooms and never gave you a straight answer, despite the numerous attempts you've made. In the beginning, you'd attempt to strike up conversations and casually ask her about it, but she would either ignore you or give you a short, vague response. You eventually stopped asking, knowing it was futile. Even when the two of you pass each other in the hallway, her eyes never meet yours, and you swear you can feel the disdain radiating from her.
But it's impossible to completely ignore her because, again, she is loved by many. To make matters worse, Lusher joined the dance team. Meaning, every time you visit Lusher during practice, Bada's there. Lusher tells you that she's a great teammate, but you aren't so sure. After all, you've only spoken a handful of words to her, and they haven't been particularly welcoming.
It's one of those days when you find yourself sitting on the bleachers, observing the dance team. You've come to watch Lusher, and you have to admit, the other dancers are amazing. However, your eyes always drift back to Bada. As much as you try to stop it, you can't help it. She's just so...stunning. She's wearing a tank top, showing off her arms, and baggy pants. Her hair is tied back in a bun, accentuating her features, and she has a serious, focused expression on her face.
You bite your lip, watching as she moves across the floor, her body flowing with the music. It's like she's gliding, and it's mesmerizing. You've never seen someone dance with such strength and power. You've been a fan of dance for a while, and you've never seen anything like it.
As the song comes to an end, everyone strikes a final pose. You watch Bada, her chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.
You grab your water bottle, suddenly thirsty, and take a drink. You're still staring at her, and she glances in your direction. Shit.
You look away, hoping she didn't notice you watching her.
Lusher unfreezes herself from her ending pose and immediately comes running up to you.
"So, what did you think? Wasn't that awesome?" she asks, excitement evident on her face.
"Yeah, it was great. You guys were incredible," you compliment.
"Aw, thanks," Lusher beams. "You should come to more of our practices. They're a lot of fun."
"Yeah, maybe," you agree, noncommittally.
"Actually, do you mind coming to the locker room with me? I need to change, and we can grab something to eat afterward."
"Yeah, sure," you agree.
Lusher gives you a big hug, causing you to laugh. "Thanks, y/n," she smiles.
You follow her into the locker room, and she changes out of her sweaty clothes. You lean against the wall, tapping away on your phone.
"You can look, y/n, I'm not shy," Lusher teases, her shirt pulled up and bra strap undone.
"I know, but, I don't want to be a pervert," you giggle.
Lusher laughs. "You already are one, and I've accepted that fact a long time ago."
You pick up one of her spare pants, throwing at her.
"Hey!" she cries, feigning annoyance.
You smirk. "Sorry."
She rolls her eyes. "I forgive you."
You glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. You've never been in here before, and it's kind of fascinating.
"Where's the bathroom in here?" you ask.
"Down the hall, to the left," she informs.
"Alright, I'm gonna go pee," you announce.
"Okay," she says, not looking away from her locker.
"Be right back," you call, exiting the room.
You walk down the hall and open the bathroom door, making your way inside. You go to the first stall, shutting the door behind you. You take care of business, and as you're finishing up, you hear the sound of footsteps, and voices, entering the room.
Not paying them much mind, you flush the toilet, standing up and zipping your pants. Until you here something that freezes you in your spot.
"Lusher's friend is pretty cute. Your type," a voice says.
"I guess," another, deeper, voice responds.
"Don't be so indifferent, Bada, she is pretty hot," the first voice chides.
"She's alright," Bada says, nonchalantly.
"Why not? It's not like she'd say no," the first voice presses.
"I'm not really interested, Tatter. She's good-looking but, I'm not attracted to her. At all. Not worth my time." Bada says.
You're stunned.
"Really?" Tatter asks.
"Yes. Really." Bada says, firmly.
You feel a rush of anger. She has every right to not find you attractive, but you can't help feeling insulted. Did she have to be so adamant about it?
"Well, damn," Tatter chuckles.
"Sorry to burst your bubble," Bada shrugs.
"No, it's cool," Tatter assures.
"Let's head out, the others are waiting for us," Bada suggests.
"Yeah, sure," Tatter agrees.
Their voices fade away, and their footsteps become more distant. You step out of the stall, making your way toward the sink. You glance at your reflection in the mirror. You look tired and upset because, well you are.
The more you think about it, the more things start to make sense. No wonder why Bada has been so aloof and unfriendly with you. She didn't find you attractive, and henceforth decided that you weren't 'worth her time.' But what kind of shallow thinking was that? You had plenty of things to offer. Your personality, wit, intelligence, humor, and a bunch of other things. So, what did it matter if she found you physically attractive?
You splash some water on your face, trying to wash away your frustration.
It's settled. You didn't want anything to do with her. She had no right to dismiss you, and, as a result, you didn't have to treat her nicely, either. Two can play that game.
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You managed to go the rest of the school year without interacting with Bada. You saw her in passing and heard her name plenty of times, but you largely succeeded in your efforts to avoid her. For the most part, you didn't even think about her. Except, of course, when you got your new roommate after winter break, who was much friendlier, but ridiculously messy and, to be quite frank, annoying. Although this turn-out was not directly Bada's fault, throughout your 2nd semester you laid awake at night, cursing the tall sexy mean woman, as your roommate blasted Bhad Bhabie songs into the early hours of the morning.
It's a new year now, though. And luckily, you do not have to worry about roommate troubles, because you you've gotten an apartment with Lusher. It's tiny and run-down, but incredibly close to campus, and after the issues you had your first year, you're just grateful that you're rooming with someone you actually get along with.
Knowing that, you're excited to see what your second year will bring you. You walk to your first class of the day, which is, unfortunately, an 8 a.m. English class.
You make it to the classroom, finding an open seat near the middle. You sit down, pulling out a notebook and pen.
As the seats fill, the professor begins his lecture, and the class starts.
However, about ten minutes into class, the door opens, and someone walks in. You look up, and your heart drops.
Bada is standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"So sorry to interrupt. I'm late," she says.
"It's okay, take a seat. We're just starting," the professor replies.
Bada's eyes scan the room, and when she spots you, she frowns. You look away, pretending like you didn't notice.
She continues to stand there, looking uncomfortable, before she decides to walk further into the classroom. The professor stops talking and looks at her.
"Do you have a seat yet?" he asks.
"Uh, not yet," Bada stutters.
"Take a seat anywhere, we're getting started," the professor responds, continuing his lecture.
You hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and when you look back, Bada is walking towards the empty seat next to you. She sits down, dropping her backpack, and your heart races.
"Can I borrow a pen?" she asks, her voice soft.
"Sure," you mumble, handing her a pen.
"Thanks," she mutters, writing something down.
Your heart is beating out of your chest. She's sitting next to you. Why is she sitting next to you? Is she doing this on purpose? Maybe she has some sort of vendetta against you. You're not sure.
You try your best to focus on the professor, but it's difficult. You can't help but stare at Bada, your eyes drifting down her body. You take in her attire. She's wearing a white t-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and a cap. Despite the simplicity of it, she looks phenomenal. It makes you want to scream.
As the professor goes on, Bada takes notes, seeming completely invested in the lecture, and you almost scoff. Who was she trying to fool?
Once the lecture ends, you quickly pack up your stuff and rush out of the room, eager to put some distance between the two of you.
"Okay," your professor begins, clapping his hands. "If you look at the syllabus, you'll see that a big portion of your grade in this class is determined by your final project. This is a research-based assignment, and will require extensive library work. I've randomly assigned you partners to help you out, so, if you'd like, feel free to move around and meet your partners once I call out your names."
A group project? Great. Those always went well. Who was the sorry excuse for a partner you were going to—
"Y/n y/l/n and Bada Lee."
Fuck.
You feel sick. What the hell is this?
You look around the room, frantically, hoping to see someone who shares the same name. Alas, no such luck.
You see Bada shift in her seat, turning toward you, and you try your best to conceal your irritation.
"Hi," she says, quietly.
"Hey," you reply, coolly.
"I guess we're partners, huh?" she asks, a small smile on her face.
"Yep, looks like it," you respond.
"I'm, um, sorry for being late today. I had a meeting with a counselor," she explains.
"I'm not the professor, Bada. I don't care."
Bada seems taken aback by your harsh response.
"Right, um, okay."
"So, uh, do you have any ideas for the final project? I've thought of a few things," she continues.
"I haven't given it much thought," you lie, knowing that you'd spent the majority of last night planning and organizing your entire project.
"Oh," she says, disappointed. "That's okay, we can talk about it some more."
"Sure," you shrug, standing up and grabbing your stuff. "I've got to get to my next class, so, I'll see you later."
You quickly pack up your items and rush out of the room, eager to put some distance between the two of you.
"Y/n, wait!"
You freeze.
"Your phone number," Bada says, jogging up behind you.
You turn around, eyeing her cautiously. "What?"
"Your phone number, so we can communicate," she clarifies, her tone a little more stern than it was a few seconds ago.
"Right," you mutter, fishing your phone out of your pocket and giving her your number.
"Awesome, thanks. I'll text you," she smiles, and then, to your surprise, she turns around and walks away.
You watch her leave, still confused. What just happened?
The next few days pass uneventfully, and you've been avoiding Bada like the plague. It's not difficult, given that the two of you only share one class together and remain silent the entire time. Truthfully, you weren't expecting to get anything out of Bada for this project. As soon as the professor called her name, you were resigned to the fact that you'd probably have to carry out this project yourself. Between dance and the apparent trail of girls that Bada has to deal with on a daily basis, there was no way she'd make time for it.
As a result, you were shocked when, after a week had passed you received a text message from an unknown number.
Unknown: hi! it's Bada. do you have a chance to meet up sometime? i have a few ideas for the project and wanted to talk to you about it.
You're not sure how to respond. This is the last thing you expected from her.
"Who are you texting?" Lusher asks, suddenly appearing beside you.
"What?" you ask, locking your phone.
"I was asking if you'd be home later, but you're clearly too busy texting someone to listen," Lusher laughs.
"No, I'm listening," you insist.
"Then, who are you texting?" she presses, curiously.
"No one. Just a girl," you reply.
Lusher wiggles her eyebrows. "I knew it," she giggles.
"Shut up," you laugh, smacking her arm. "It's not like that."
"Whatever you say," she teases, grabbing her jacket and slipping on her shoes.
"Are you leaving?" you ask.
"Yeah, I'm gonna go study with a few people. You coming?"
You shake your head. "No, I think I'm just gonna stay here."
"Alright, I'll see you later then," she says, waving and exiting the apartment.
You sigh, flopping down on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. You're not sure how long you lay there, but the sound of your phone vibrating snaps you out of your daze.
You grab your phone, checking your messages.
Unknown: this is y/n, right?
"Shit," you mutter, realizing that you forgot to respond.
You: Hi, sorry, it is. I got busy. Um, yeah, I have time tomorrow if you're free.
Bada: i'm available after 5 tomorrow. meet me at the library? 3rd floor?
You: Okay, sounds good.
Bada: great! see you then.
"Fuck," you whisper, tossing your phone onto the couch.
This is going to be a horrible year.
The next day, you find yourself walking into the library, coffee in hand. You check your phone, noticing that it's already 5:30 p.m.
"Crap," you whisper, picking up your pace.
You finally make it to the third floor, scanning the room for Bada. To your surprise, you spot her immediately, sitting alone at a table in the corner.
"Sorry, I'm late," you apologize, speed-walking over to her.
"It's okay," she smiles.
You pull out a chair and sit down, feeling awkward.
"So," you begin. "How are you?"
"Good," she says, quietly. She glances at your coffee cup, a frown on her face, before looking down at the items scattered across the table.
You furrow your eyebrows, looking at the array of items in front of you. Bada's textbooks, her backpack, her phone. Two coffee cups.
"Wait," you say, realization hitting you.
"Yeah?" she asks, looking up.
"You bought me a coffee?" you state, the words sounding dumb as they come out of your mouth.
She blinks. "No."
"But, there are two coffee cups," you point out, feeling more and more confused.
"It's fine, you already bought one," she rushes out, sliding one of the coffee cups farther away from you.
"Wait, no! It's okay. I'll take it."
She stops. "Really?"
"Yeah," you nod, reaching out and grabbing the cup. "Thank you."
"Of course," she shrugs, looking embarrassed.
You pick up the cup, analyzing it, wondering if she put any poison in it. Unfortunately, you are not a chemist, and cannot decipher the contents of the beverage, so, you opt for the safer route and place the cup back down on the table.
"Did you have an idea for the project?" she asks.
"I did," you nod.
"What is it?"
"I was thinking that we could write an article. One of the prompts that was on the syllabus is an exposé, and I figured that it'd be easy to do a deep dive into the school's athletic program."
"Huh, that's interesting," she replies, a thoughtful look on her face.
"Interesting, good or interesting, bad?"
"Interesting, good. I like the idea. How far did you want to go into detail with it?"
"Well, I was hoping we could focus on the women's athletic department. Have you heard anything about them?" you ask.
"A lot. I hear my friends complain a lot," she says.
"About what?"
"So much. The coaches are demanding and strict and don't give the players don't get enough breaks. They don't get as much funding as the men's athletic program, either."
Disappointing but not surprising. "Is there a particular sport or athlete that stands out to you?"
"Um," she starts, a slight blush covering her cheeks.
"Yes?"
"I know a couple of basketball players. The captain, Doyeon, is really good, and I talk to her a lot. She'd probably be willing to help us out. They have a big game coming up, and their coach is going crazy because the school isn't giving them as much access to facilities as they did for the men's team. The basketball players were forced to practice outside, and the coaches are furious."
You can't hide your shock at this. Although you knew the women's team had it rough, you didn't realize there was so much drama happening behind the scenes. "Wow, that's...a mess. Did you want to talk to her about it? I'd love to meet her and get her perspective."
"Yes, definitely," she nods. "They should be practicing tomorrow. We can go watch them and interview her after. Would that work?"
"Sounds good," you agree, mentally making a note to cancel your plans tomorrow. You raise your coffee cup to your lips, momentarily forgetting about the possible dangers, and take a sip. The moment the liquid touches your tongue, you are hit with a profusion of tastiness. It's sweet and delicious and everything you could have ever dreamed of. It's exactly the type of drink you'd order yourself. You glance over at Bada, seeing her watching you nervously, and decide to speak up.
"This is really good," you praise, taking another sip.
She smiles. "You like caramel lattes, right?" she asks.
"Um, yes," you respond, confused. "How'd you know that?"
"Just, um, a lucky guess," she replies awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
You raise an eyebrow at this. Crap, you think. She must've put some sort of poison in here that mimics the taste of your favorite coffee flavor. You're screwed, but it's too late. You might as well enjoy the coffee. You take one last sip, savoring the flavor, then set it down.
"Alright, well, I have some notes I want to go over, if that's alright," you say, pulling out your laptop.
"Okay," she replies, also taking out her laptop.
The two of you spend the next hour discussing the project, both of you getting lost in your own thoughts. By the time you're done, it's nearly eight o'clock, and the sun is setting.
"We should probably head back now," you state, packing up your items.
"Yeah, we should," she agrees, standing up.
The two of you walk out of the library, the campus quiet and dark.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says, walking toward her car.
"Yep," you reply, waving and heading towards yours.
Once inside, you turn on the car, blasting the air conditioning. You turn on the radio, trying to distract yourself from the heat outside.
"And in other news, the women's basketball team is still having trouble securing proper facilities. According to sources close to the team, the coach is frustrated and the players are exhausted.
"In other sports news, the football team is preparing for its season-opener against their rivals, the..."
You groan, turning off the radio and focusing on the road. Your stomach growls, and you realize that you haven't eaten anything since lunch. You consider stopping somewhere, but decide against it. You'll just eat when you get back to the apartment.
As you drive home, you think about the last few hours you spent with Bada. She was...interesting, to say the least. Today, she seemed more responsive to you than she had previously. In the past, she had mostly ignored you, rarely speaking to you unless necessary. Today, though, she'd been engaging and helpful. Perhaps, it was just because she cared about getting a good grade on this project. Once it's over, she'll probably return to her normal, snide self. That was okay with you, though. As long as she was cooperative while you worked on the project, you couldn't care less what she thinks of you or how she treats you afterward.
You park your car, heading up the stairs to the apartment, your mind wandering. Despite your best efforts, Bada is starting to worm her way into your head. It's stupid. You're being ridiculous.
This was going to be a long semester.
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"I think I'm going to fall asleep."
Bada turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, please. You've never seen the game before. This is just the warm-up."
You glare at her. "It's been two hours," you point out.
"Yes, and the game hasn't even started yet," she says, matter-of-factly.
"I hate you," you grumble, crossing your arms.
"You know you're the one who suggested we research a sports team, right?"
"Shut up," you mutter, glaring at her.
The two of you have been sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs for the past two hours, observing the team's practice as they ran around an outdoor basketball court under the sweltering heat. Bada was not lying about the terrible working conditions these women were put under. You didn't understand how they had the ability to exercise in these circumstances. You were dying.
"I need a break," you declare, standing up and stretching.
"No, no, no, no. Sit," she demands, pulling on your wrist and dragging you back into your seat.
"Let me go!" you yell, struggling against her grip. Why the hell was this woman so strong? For christ's sake, she was a dancer, not a wrestler.
"Not until the end of the game," she states, gripping tighter.
"This isn't fair!"
"Life isn't fair," she retorts.
"You're such a bitch," you seethe, finally ripping your arm from her grasp.
"So, I've been told."
"Why are we here again?" you ask, slumping in your seat.
"Look, just try to pay attention. I'll buy you a smoothie if you stay focused," she offers.
"Deal," you say, straightening your posture and turning to watch the practice.
"And now, the final play," the coach yells, blowing a whistle.
The team scatters, moving to their positions. Doyeon, the captain, dribbles the ball down the court, passing it to another girl, who moves closer to the net. Just as she's about to shoot, the girl trips, sending the ball spiraling out of her hands and in your direction. You gasp, scrambling out of the way, but you're not fast enough. The ball hits you square in the face, causing you to yelp as you fall backward in your chair.
"Fuck," you whine, holding your hand to your face.
"Oh, shit, are you okay?" Bada asks, kneeling down next to you.
"Do I look okay you goofball?!" you shout, removing your hand to reveal a bloodied nose.
"Ooh, ouch," she cringes.
"Are you okay?" a different voice asks, and you look up to see the woman who had tripped approaching the two of you.
"I'm fine," you mumble, feeling embarrassed.
"I'm really sorry," she apologizes, bowing her head.
"It's fine," you shrug, standing up.
"You should come see the nurse," Bada says.
"No, I'll be fine. It's not that bad," you insist, wiping away the blood.
"Are you sure?" the basketball player asks.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's not the first time this has happened," you explain, trying to alleviate her concern.
"What?" Bada chokes.
"Please don't ask," you sigh.
"Okay, well, I should get back," the girl says, gesturing toward the court.
"Of course. Go kick ass," you cheer, smiling.
"Thanks," she grins, running back onto the court.
You and Bada watch the girl's retreating figure. Bada then turns to you, a look of concern on her face.
"Okay, come on. Let's get you cleaned up," Bada instructs, pulling on your wrist and leading you towards to one of the entrances into the building.
"Where are we going?"
"The locker rooms," she states.
"What? No, no, no, no," you protest, planting your feet and resisting her.
"I'm not letting you sit here while your nose bleeds. Besides, the girls have to go in there eventually. We'll interview Doyeon once she comes in." she explains.
"But—"
"Who cares? Come on, let's go," she urges, tugging on your arm.
"Fine," you concede, allowing her to drag you through the building.
Once inside the locker room, Bada leads you to a sink and forces you to stand still.
"Hold still," she commands, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it.
"What are you doing?" you ask.
"Cleaning up the blood," she responds, bringing the towel to your nose.
"Don't!" you hiss, swatting her hand away.
"You have to," she argues.
"No, I don't. I can do it myself," you retort.
"Just let me do it," she whines. "I've had to do stuff like this more times that I can count. I'm basically a professional."
"What? You having to clean up your own bloody noses? Why? Because of the amount of times you've gotten slapped in the face?"
"Hey!" she pouts.
"Well, are you going to answer the question or not?"
"Dance injuries. Now, will you let me help you?"
"Ugh, fine," you groan, rolling your eyes.
She brings the towel to your nose, gently dabbing the blood away. Her hand brushes against your cheek, sending a tingle down your spine. She's standing so close to you, her chest nearly presses into yours. You can smell her perfume, a subtle vanilla scent that seems to surround her. It's intoxicating.
When you glance up, her eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. They're a deep brown. Warm and inviting. You've never noticed how beautiful they are. Or maybe, you just haven't had the opportunity to study them this closely.
Her fingers linger on your skin, the tips grazing over the sensitive flesh.
"There. All better," she says, throwing away the paper towel.
"Thanks," you say, clearing your throat.
"No problem," she grins.
The two of you stand in silence, neither of you wanting to move.
"So," you start, breaking the tension. "Should we, uh, wait for Doyeon here?"
"Sure," she shrugs.
"Okay, um, I'm going to, uh, sit over there," you stutter, pointing to the bench behind her.
"Okay," she says.
You awkwardly make your way to the bench and sit down, keeping a safe distance between the two of you.
"How are you feeling?" she asks.
"A little lightheaded," you admit.
"Hmm, do you want some water?" she suggests.
You think of the possibly poisoned coffee. "No, I think I'm alright," you say.
"Okay," she nods.
Another awkward silence.
"So, you, uh, have a lot of dance injuries?" you ask.
"Yeah, a few," she laughs.
"Like, what kind?"
"Oh, nothing serious. Mostly bruises and sprains. Once, I twisted my ankle, but that was ages ago," she says, waving her hand dismissively.
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm," she nods.
"How many times have you had a bloody nose?" you inquire.
"That's a secret," she grins.
"C'mon," you press.
"Nope, not telling," she shakes her head.
"You're no fun," you huff.
"I'm lots of fun. You're just not asking the right questions," she smirks.
"Like what?"
"Like.."
The locker room door opens, and a group of women walk in, all chattering excitedly. Bada looks over, her smile growing wider.
"Doyeon!" she calls, waving her hand.
You turn, spotting the captain running over to you. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and sweat drips down her face. As worn out as she seemed, she still looked incredible. In a flash, you became hyperaware of your probably still disheveled looks as a result of your recent injury. Way to embarrass yourself in front of a pretty girl.
"Hey, Doyeon," Bada greets, standing up and smiling at her. Doyeon outstretches her arms, enveloping Bada in a lingering, tight, hug.
"Bada! I missed you," Doyeon sighs.
"Missed you too," Bada replies.
"And who's this?" she asks, pulling away from the hug and nodding in your direction.
"Oh, um, this is y/n, she's working with me on the project. I told you about."
"Nice to meet you," you smile, extending a hand.
"Likewise," she replies, shaking it.
"So, are you ready to do this interview?" Bada asks, eagerness dripping in her voice.
"Yeah, let me get changed first," she replies, walking towards the lockers.
"Sure," Bada nods, watching as Doyeon disappears into the showers.
You glance over at her, her eyes still trained on where Doyeon had just disappeared. Something in your stomach sinks.
"Oh my god," you scoff.
"What?" she asks, turning to face you.
"Don't tell me we're interviewing one of your little girlfriends," you grimace.
"She's not my girlfriend," she frowns.
"Whatever," you say, rolling your eyes.
"Seriously, y/n, we're just friends."
"With benefits?" you inquire, raising an eyebrow.
"Why does this matter so much to you, anyway?" she asks, crossing her arms.
"Because, it's my project, and I don't want it ruined because you can't keep your hormones in check," you reply, glaring at her.
"I'm not going to 'ruin' anything, alright? I'm perfectly capable of keeping my personal life separate from my school work."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," you mutter.
"God, you're so frustrating," she huffs.
"So are you," you snap.
"Well, it's a good thing this is just for a project, and you don't have to deal with me outside of class, then."
"But it's a shame I can't get rid of you sooner."
"Believe me, the feeling's mutual," she growls.
You open your mouth, ready to unleash a verbal assault, but you're cut off by the sound of footsteps. Doyeon walks up, her hair still wet, and her bag slung over her shoulder.
"You two ready?" she asks, grinning at the both of you.
"As we'll ever be," Bada sighs.
The three of you sit on the locker room bench, a small space in between each of you. Bada is scribbling something down on a piece of paper while Doyeon waits patiently.
"Alright, um, first question. How have the recent changes affected the team's practices and games?"
"Honestly, it's been pretty tough. We're used to practicing indoors, so the outdoor heat has been brutal. On top of that, we've had less access to facilities, which has made things even more difficult. All of this has taken a toll on our performance, both on and off the court."
"That's unfortunate," Bada frowns. "How have the coaches and other staff members been handling the situation?"
"Not well, honestly. They've been pretty angry and stressed. They haven't taken it out on us, but it's been noticeable. And, honestly, they have every right to be upset. This is a big change for everyone, and it's not something that was anticipated."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Bada sighs.
"Thanks," Doyeon says with a smile, placing her hand on top of Bada's.
The sight of it makes your stomach twist, and a scowl forms on your face.
"Uh, next question," you start. "Do you have any idea when the situation might improve?"
Doyeon tears her eyes away from Bada. "Hopefully soon. We can't keep playing like this. Something needs to change."
"And if nothing does?" you ask.
"Then we'll have to keep fighting. Like always," she shrugs.
"I'm proud of you guys. You've all been handling this whole situation with a lot of grace," Bada compliments.
"Well, I have a great team. Everyone has really stepped up and supported each other. We've got a lot of good people," Doyeon smiles.
"That's wonderful to hear," Bada grins.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes.
"Anyways, let's wrap this up," you say, clapping her hands together. "Last question. Is there anything else you think is worth knowing for our project?"
"Hm, let me think," she hums, placing her finger to her chin. "I don't think there's anything..."
"Well then, I think we're done!" you announce, swiftly standing up.
"Already?" Bada asks, glancing at her watch.
"Yeah, time flies, huh?"
"I guess," she mutters. "Alright, thanks for your time, Doyeon," Bada smiles, reaching across the space and squeezing Doyeon's knee.
"Of course," she beams.
You roll your eyes again.
"Well, I'll see you later, okay?" Bada says, standing up.
"Absolutely," Doyeon agrees.
"Great," she grins.
Bada turns to face you, a forced smile plastered on her face.
"We done?"
"Yep, let's go."
You and Bada make your way out of the locker room, leaving Doyeon behind.
"That went well," Bada sighs, once the door closes.
"Sure did," you mumble, barely able to contain the sarcasm.
"I can't wait to write up the report," she exclaims, her eyes lighting up.
"It'll be nice, yeah," you say.
"Maybe after, we could—"
"I need to go," you blurt out, cutting her off.
"What?" she asks, frowning.
"I'm, uh, late. For class. Sorry."
"Oh. Okay, um, I'll see you around, I guess," she says.
"Bye," you say, rushing past her.
You're not lying. You are late for class. But not nearly as late as you're making out. You speed-walk across campus, a million thoughts racing through your mind. No wonder Bada was so eager to do this project. It was just an excuse to spend time with Doyeon. And, judging by the way the two of them interacted, it wasn't the first time they'd spent time together.
You're not exactly sure why this is bothering you so much. You knew Bada got around. Maybe it's because you're annoyed that Bada didn't tell you the truth. Or maybe it's because you feel stupid for not seeing this coming. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that you're upset, and you have no one to blame but yourself.
You make it to your lecture hall, and as quietly as possible, slip into an empty seat near the back. Your professor drones on and on about the importance of deadlines and punctuality, and you find yourself completely unable to pay attention. Instead, you replay the day's events over and over again. Each time, you cringe at the memory of how oblivious and naive you'd been.
read part two
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