The Reason Her Heart Was Pounding
Yeoncheong, with a suspiciously docile Suyeon in tow, stepped into the arcade.
The moment they were inside, Suyeon let go of her hand and began sizing up the games.
A punching machine, claw machines, air hockey. Among all of them, the first thing to catch Yeoncheong's eye was the basketball game.
Suyeon sidled up beside her with a grin.
"Wow. Not as bad as Nayun, but you really do love basketball, huh?"
"It's less that I love it and more that... I'm just best at it."
Basketball and badminton over soccer or kickball. She had always been better at sports that used hands rather than feet, so it was only natural.
Suyeon, who had apparently never touched an arcade basketball machine in her life, stretched an arm out toward the hoop and tilted her head, gauging the distance. Then she issued a challenge.
"Bet on the score?"
It wasn't even real basketball — she must have figured she had a decent shot at winning this.
Yeoncheong gave a faint, amused snort at the audacity.
"What's the wager?"
"Loser buys drinks at the café later?"
Yeoncheong nodded her agreement. They fed bills into the machines side by side, pressed the start buttons at the same time, and the balls came tumbling down.
Yeoncheong leaned forward with practiced ease, snagged a ball, and fired off the first shot before Suyeon had even gotten her bearings.
The ball rattled through the chained net with a clang of metal.
"Hey! Who grabs from that far up front?!"
Suyeon hurriedly hurled a ball with both hands. While her shot bounced off the rim and dropped through, Yeoncheong was already sinking two more, clean as anything.
Even in the moment Suyeon was yelling about why her shots wouldn't go in, Yeoncheong racked up points without missing a beat.
Then the music signaling the end of the first round played out. Suyeon barely scraped past stage one, while Yeoncheong advanced with a comfortable lead.
"Go easy on me, will you!"
At Suyeon's grumbling, Yeoncheong just smirked.
"You're the one who called it a bet. Can't do that."
A short breather, then the next round began. Suyeon had shifted to a throw-everything-and-pray strategy when a single ball dropped with a thud right in front of her — one of Yeoncheong's shots had clipped the hoop, which had started moving, and caromed off to the side.
Yeoncheong kept firing the balls in her hands, but her lips flickered uncertainly.
"Suyeon, one of your balls came over. Toss me one, would you?"
Silence. Total, pointed silence.
At first, Yeoncheong assumed she was just too absorbed in the game to hear.
But even after another ball bounced off the moving hoop and rolled aside, there was still no reaction — and with her own supply dwindling by the second, something fishy began to dawn on her.
Down to her last ball or two, Yeoncheong turned to eye the machine on her right — and her jaw dropped.
"Hey! That's not how this game works!"
Because there was her dear friend Suyeon, hoarding a mountain of balls and firing away.
Having judged she couldn't win by honest means, she had simply decided to cheat.
"They rolled over to my side. That makes them my balls."
She clearly felt a twinge of guilt too — she wouldn't even look at Yeoncheong while she said it.
A glance at the scoreboard showed that with their throwing rates now so lopsided, Suyeon had closed the gap considerably.
"Ah, come on! That's so unfair!"
Suyeon burst out laughing at her flustered friend — but she didn't let her focus slip for a second, hot on Yeoncheong's heels to the very end.
In the end, though, the gap in raw skill, combined with the large head start Yeoncheong had already built, was more than the remaining time could overcome.
Thanks in large part to her stockpiled balls, Yeoncheong scraped out a nail-biter of a victory.
Having claimed the win, she shot Suyeon a withering look.
"Got anything to say for yourself?"
Defeated despite her foul play, Suyeon rolled her eyes every which way and deflected.
"Sheesh~ arcade basketball really is no joke, huh."
"Baek Suyeon."
At the sound of her friend calling her full name, stiff as a judge, Suyeon flinched. Yeoncheong had her arms crossed and was glaring straight at her.
Suyeon could understand the teasing at the beach, where everyone ganged up on her — that was all in good fun. But fouls were a different matter, and the scolding stung.
"Ah... um, sorry. I just really wanted to beat you once. It won't happen again..."
Suyeon's tail curled meekly between her legs. Only then did Yeoncheong let out a light sigh and soften.
"As long as you get it."
Next they played air hockey, Suyeon's claimed area of expertise, then moved on to a claw machine whose grip kept slicking open — Yeoncheong hollering that the thing had to be rigged. The two of them whiled away a thoroughly enjoyable stretch of time in the arcade.
***
The pair came out to a nearby café to settle the wager.
Despite Yeoncheong's protests, Suyeon added a small slice of cake to the order — the price of her foul, she insisted.
"You really didn't have to go that far..."
Settling in with their drinks and cake, Suyeon gave a derisive little snort.
"Hmph. Says the person who glared at me like I'd committed a mortal sin over one little foul?"
"I mean... you're the one who cheated."
"Don't care. I'm hurt."
Suyeon turned her head away as if she couldn't stand the sight of her, leaving Yeoncheong at a complete loss. She set the cake between them, popped a straw into Suyeon's drink, and slid it over.
"Come on, let it go. We had fun today — it'd be a shame to end it on a sour note."
When Suyeon opened her mouth with an ahh, Yeoncheong took the hint, lifted the drink, and held the straw out to her lips. Suyeon sipped, then opened her mouth again. This time her eyes flicked meaningfully toward the cake. With a sigh too quiet to catch, Yeoncheong picked up the fork and fed her a bite.
Only then did Suyeon crack a satisfied grin, as if her mood had finally lifted a little.
"Mmm. I approve of this new attitude."
At her friend's smug, sulky expression, Yeoncheong's eyes narrowed.
"You weren't actually mad, were you? You've been messing with me this whole time, haven't you?"
Something about it nagged at her — she'd been played, and hadn't even noticed until now. She pressed for answers, but Suyeon just stirred her drink with her straw, wearing a picture of perfect innocence.
Yeoncheong took a sip of her strawberry smoothie — the exact same order as last time — and muttered under her breath.
"That's so mean. I was genuinely mad that once..."
Better leave it there...
If she kept poking at her, Yeoncheong would probably sulk for real, so Suyeon changed the subject.
"Anyway — we did pick a date, remember?"
There was exactly one promise on the books between the two of them: the birthday party planning for Suyeon and Hasol.
"What about it?"
Apparently even Suyeon couldn't keep sulking through this particular topic, because Yeoncheong's voice softened considerably. Her redirect a success, Suyeon pressed on.
"Hasol and Nayun are scouting out the venue, and Seoha said she'd handle the cake."
"Then what about me?"
Suyeon raised an index finger, as if to say worry not.
"You get to just sit pretty. I've got something really important I'll need you for later."
"Something important? Can't you tell me now?"
"Not yet."
Figuring her friend had a plan, Yeoncheong nodded along and agreed. All without the faintest idea what this "important favor" might be.
***
Tap. Pitter-patter.
There had no doubt been impressive advances in technology since the old days, but weather forecasts remained stubbornly short of one hundred percent reliable. Especially in summer, when rain would come pouring down the moment you tried to do anything.
Chattering away as they waited out the rain in the café, Suyeon couldn't hide the worry in her eyes.
"Think it's ever gonna let up...?"
The other patrons around them, just like the two of them, were gazing out at the downpour, waiting without much hope.
Yeoncheong checked the updated forecast and murmured,
"Says it'll keep raining until tonight."
"Forecasts get things wrong all the time."
Sorry, Meteorological Administration — but it might clear up early, right? So went the optimistic read. Yeoncheong looked out at the mass of clouds rolling in from the distance.
"Those clouds don't look like they'd agree with you."
The approaching sky was a brooding, leaden gray — those were rain clouds, no question. Suyeon followed her gaze out the window and sighed.
"Then I guess we should head out now, while it's coming down a little lighter?"
A grumble slipped out as her friend looked down at the clothes she'd worn out.
"I wore my favorite outfit today, too..."
Even to Yeoncheong it had looked like she'd put real effort into her outfit — apparently that was exactly what had happened. Suyeon agonized over how big a soaking she'd take sprinting to the bus stop, until Yeoncheong remembered a convenience store nearby and pressed her back into her seat.
"Wait here a second."
"Huh? Why?"
But having said her piece, Yeoncheong was already out the door without waiting for an answer.
"There she goes again."
Suyeon's mouth twisted into a pout at the strange sense of déjà vu. She was mentally lining up the lecture she'd unleash on her return — until she actually saw Yeoncheong come back, and changed her mind.
"Suyeon, let's go."
Rain already dampening her hair, umbrella in hand, Yeoncheong held out her free hand with a bright, beaming face. Who could possibly stay angry at that?
Suyeon gathered up their things, quietly shelved the prepared lecture for later, and rose from her seat without a word.
Perhaps because the rain had come on so suddenly, some people were just running through it and getting soaked, while others, like Yeoncheong, had bought cheap plastic umbrellas and carried on.
Two silhouettes beneath a single umbrella.
Suyeon fought down the awkward air between them and worked up the nerve to speak.
"It didn't occur to you to buy two?"
"This was the last one. I barely got it at all."
Yeoncheong laughed, saying she'd almost ended up both soaked and umbrella-less.
Suyeon shot her a faintly disgruntled look.
"Why do you keep running off without saying anything?"
Her question, aimed at a friend who'd gotten rained on for her sake, wasn't nearly as sharp as the one she'd originally rehearsed — but a thorn still pricked at the edge of it. Things were different now from back when Yeoncheong had been at her most anxious and fragile. Yeoncheong, who understood exactly what she was getting at, scratched her head, at a loss.
"I was worried they'd sell out."
She paused to gather herself, then went on.
"You dressed up all pretty today. It'd be awful if you got soaked."
Suyeon froze mid-step — and Yeoncheong, umbrella still raised, hurriedly stopped alongside her.
"What? Something get in your shoe?"
Suyeon was staring down at the ground. She had no desire to let her friend — uselessly perceptive in precisely these matters — see how red her face had gone.
A beat late, she insisted it was nothing and started walking again.
"Besides, you said those were your favorite clothes. Getting them wet would be sad."
At those words, Suyeon's gaze drifted up to the umbrella.
It was nowhere near big enough for two people — and yet not a single drop of rain was reaching her.
The umbrella was tilted heavily toward her side. Yeoncheong was the one holding it, yet its center hovered close over Suyeon.
Her eyes drifted, quite naturally, toward Yeoncheong.
Because only her friend's head was under the umbrella — and her shoulders were getting steadily drenched.
Her body moved before her mind caught up.
She leaned herself against Yeoncheong, umbrella and all.
Their hair brushed together, and her own heartbeat — pounding away, oblivious to the moment — was surely carrying down their touching arms. Suyeon didn't care. It was a far sight better than her friend catching the rain.
All she had to do was drop her gaze in embarrassment and avoid eye contact, and ignore the arm pressed against her chest. That was all.
Yeoncheong, caught completely off guard by Suyeon suddenly plastering herself against her side, didn't even seem to register it.
"Hey, you'll get wet like that."
Even now, she was shifting the umbrella because her friend's precious outfit might get damp. Suyeon put a hand out to stop her, lips pursing.
"If we're pressed together like this, it's fine. So hold still. If you step out from under this umbrella, I'll kill you. For real."
Faced with a warning delivered in dead earnest, Yeoncheong finally, at long last, behaved herself.
A great, thunderous heartbeat — whose, exactly, was anyone's guess — was spreading down their touching arms. Desperate to cover it, Suyeon raised her voice.
"If I hadn't noticed, were you just not going to say anything?"
"Wouldn't you have gotten mad if I brought it up?"
"You knew that and you did it anyway?"
When Suyeon whirled and glared at her, Yeoncheong averted her eyes and stared off at some distant patch of sky.
The two of them only folded the umbrella once they'd reached the bus stop.
Yeoncheong changed the subject.
"Next time we'll all get to see each other again, huh."
"Right? Feels like we've been meeting up constantly lately."
Yeoncheong nodded along with real feeling.
"Exactly. So let's pace ourselves a little."
"Look who's talking."
Just then, Yeoncheong's bus and Suyeon's bus pulled up one right after the other. Yeoncheong shot a quick, sidelong glance at Suyeon's face, then spoke up.
"Suyeon. You're still mad, aren't you?"
"Why do you ask?"
Suyeon looked at her with a sullen expression. Waiting until the line for her own bus had vanished, Yeoncheong forcibly pressed the umbrella into her hands.
"Because I'd honestly be relieved if you were still mad."
With that cheeky grin, she hopped onto her bus at the last moment. Suyeon's eyes darted between her own bus and Yeoncheong's retreating one — and then she broke into a helpless little laugh.
"I was... never mad in the first place. You dummy."
***
Back home, Suyeon headed straight for her room.
The room was cleaner than when she'd left it — Siyeon had apparently done some tidying.
"Hey, I cleaned half of it because Mom was on my case. The rest is on you—huh?"
Siyeon, who had been buried in her blankets, sat up at the sight of her twin returning.
"What's with you? Did you get caught in the rain?"
"No."
"Your shoulder's soaked, though?"
"I didn't get wet."
Compared to Yeoncheong — who seemed so oblivious one minute and so perceptive the next—
Siyeon cocked her head, studying her twin's face.
"That's not true at all. Your face is all red. Are you coming down with something?"
"No."
"Then why is it red?"
Pressed for a proper explanation, with Siyeon growing visibly exasperated, Suyeon murmured, barely above a whisper.
"There is... such a thing, you know."