Page 39 of Lethal in Pink

I stare at the screen for a moment before my thumbs spring into action.

Me: 그리고... 걔는 정말이지 골 때리는 애야. 머리는 비상하게 좋으면서, 성격은 진짜 짜증 나거든. 첫날부터 자리 문제로 나랑 티격태격하더니 지금까지도 그러고 있어. 필기할 때 색깔별로 구분하는 건 기본이고, 핑크색에 엄청 집착하지만 자기 몫은 확실히 해내는 애지. 뭐랄까... 꽤 흥미로운 구석이 있어. (And…she's a piece of work. Smart as hell. Annoying as fuck. She argued with me about a seat on the first day and hasn't stopped since. She literally color codes her notes. Obsessed with pink, but can handle her own. It’s kind of…interesting.)

I hit send.

There is a pause.

Kiho: 형, 설마 '픽미걸' 같은 애랑 자고 다니는 건 아니지? (Hyung, tell me you aren’t fucking some pick me girl.)

I stare at the screen.

Me: 무슨 얘기를 하는 건가요? (What are you talking about?)

Kiho: 미국 여자애들 있잖아. 남자들의 관심을 끌려고 특별한 척하는 그런 애들 말이야. (American girls. You know, the ones who act special to get guys to like them.)

I actually laugh.

Absolutely not. Well…actually there was this other girl I hooked up with my first week here, but that’s beside the point. Amiyah is different.

Keep telling yourself that.

What’s that supposed to mean?

It means that if she knew who you really are, she would be just like the rest of them.

The muscle in my job twitches when I read the last part.

Bro, you don’t even know her.

And you think you do?

Kiho: [image: man laughing diabolically while pointing] 거기 간 지 벌써 4주나 됐구나. 오래갈 수 없는 사이라는 걸 알면서 미국 여자애한테 마음을 주지는 마라. 학기는 딱 세 번 남았고, 그게 끝나면 넌 다시 서울로 돌아와야 하니까. (You’ve been there for four weeks. Don’t go getting yourself attached to some American girl when you know it can’t be permanent. You only have three semesters—then you’re back in Seoul.)

I frown.

Me: 그래서? (So?)

Kiho: 그러니 굳이 왜 그러는 걸까요? (So why bother?)

My thumbs are instantly at war with the screen, tapping at a rapid speed only for me to delete my two paragraph reply where I get petty when two more messages come through.

Kiho: 진짜, 형. 언제까지 평범한 사람인 척할 거야? (Seriously, Hyung, how much longer are you going to keep pretending to be a normal person?)

My thumbs go still.

Kiho:정말로 자아를 찾으려고 여기 온 건가요, 아니면 그저 부모님 속을 뒤집어놓으려고 큰돈을 쓰고 있는 건가요? (Are you actually here because you're trying to find yourself or are you just spending a lot of money to piss off your parents?)

I read them twice.

Something hot coils under my ribs—a tight, angry heat that spreads through my chest and into my clench jaw. My best friend just reduced the most meaningful stretch of my adult life to a rebellion phase like I’m a fucking teenager. As if it’s just a performance art designed to upset my parents and not the fact that I actually felt like I was literally suffocating to death in my own skin. As if wanting to be something other than a brand isn’t a real enough reason to exist. As if wanting a life where I’m helping others rather than just being their entertainment isn’t something worth fighting for.

I could say a lot.

I don’t.

Rather, I type a short clipped message.

Me: 당신은 정말 저를 잘 모르시네요. 그게 다 드러나요. (You really don’t know me and it shows.)