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As night falls, the sea wind grows stronger. All the grownups have disappeared to their rooms by now, and soon I find myself surrounded by Chan's and Felix' siblings and all the boys down by the beach, a flaming fire in front of us.
A fire on the beach smells differently than a normal bonfire. Saltier and more tangy, leaving an earthy note in the back of my throat. 
I sit on a towel near the flames, Hanna and Rachel to each of my sides, and hold a marshmallow on a stick into the fire.
"I swear, something about the pretzels on the airplane just hits differently," Hannah says now as she gingerly pulls the marshmallow of her own stick with her teeth.
Rachel chuckles. "Maybe it's the altitude," she nibbles on a cracker, "It's the same reason that some people like tomato juice on the plane but not when they're on the ground. I guess it tastes different in the air." 
Across from us, Chan sits with Lucas and Hyunjin. I try not to stare at him through the flames, try not to make it obvious that I can't keep my eyes off of him.
Hannah nudges me.
"Girl, your marshmallow is burning!"
"Oh! Oh, no, no, no!" I pull the stick out and blow on the marshmallow. It's outside is crusty black and I pick at the scabby parts. "Ugh, damnit. I ruined it."
Rachel hands me her stick.
"Here," she says, "You can have mine. It's the least I can do."
I take the stick and place the marshmallow on a cracker. I take a bite and the marshmallow dissolves on my tongue, sticky sweet and hot, before my tongue slips out between my lips and carefully drives over them. 
My eyes wander to Chan.
When my eyes land on him, he's already looking at me, his dark eyes illuminated by the golden shine of the fire, glowing like embers.

For a moment, we lock eyes.
My heart beats fast and heat rises in my cheeks that has absolutely nothing to do with the fire.
I can feel the jab of an elbow in my side and Hannah says, "You're a lot quieter than I thought you'd be."My attention snaps back to her and I give her a shaky smile. "What? Why?"
"I don't know, you're kind of quiet." She shrugs and grins.
"I think I'm just tired," I apologize, "Its been a pretty long day. You can ask the boys, I'm usually a lot louder and have more energy."
I try a chuckle but it sounds fake. And it's halfway true: I am exhausted.
But I also really want to be alone with Chan. Or at the least, take his hand in mine. Lean on his shoulder. Place my head on his chest.
My legs beg me to get up and go to him, but I stay put between Hannah and Rachel.
I don't think Hannah would enjoy seeing her brother, who she hadn't seen in years, cuddle with a girl she barely even knows. I don't want to be disrespectful. I want Chan's family to like me.

So for a little more than an hour, I sit at the fire and listen with one ear to the chatter around me, laugh at the jokes, and roast one marshmallow after another.
I roast so many marshmallows, I could build a cake out of them.
I don't eat them all by myself, I share most of them with Chan's and Felix' siblings, but my stomach still hurts when the bag is finally empty.
I don't usually eat much sugar and all that sweetness must be upsetting my insides. I can feel the twists and knots when I swallow the last marshmallow.
I know I'm being unfair.
They're trying to get to know me. But I just really don't feel like talking right now, and so the stomach pain is a welcome excuse. At least this way, I don't have to lie to get away.
"Guys," I start, "I think I'm going to bed. I've had too much sugar and my stomach does not agree."
I chuckle, placing one hand on my stomach.
"Do you need help?" Felix asks and gets up from his spot next to his younger sister, but I shake my head and wrap my arms around his waist to hug him goodnight.
Then I wave to the rest of the group and say, "Goodnight! I'll see you all at breakfast tomorrow."
Then I turn and go back to the house, where I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head to my room.

It's not even 10 p.m. when I take my third shower of the day. The heat and steam loosen the knots in my stomach and when I crawl into bed, I already feel a lot better.
My body is exhausted.
My brain, however, is wide awake.
I open my window and turn on the TV on the opposite side of the room across the bed, turning the volume down. Usually, the dull sounds and noises make me tired and lull me to sleep, it doesn't work today.
I plug my phone off the charger and open my messages. For a while, I exchange messages with Hana and Binna, before the clock strikes eleven and they go to bed.
I aimlessly scroll through my social media, like a few posts I'm tagged in, and take notes for upcoming projects.

Outside, the noise has long died down, and I listen carefully as different pairs of feet walk the halls outside my room.
Someone runs into a vase. Probably Hyunjin.
Someone shushes him. Probably Minho.
A light gets switched on. Hushed voices. The light gets switches off again.
Then everything goes hauntingly silent.
For some reason, it hasn't occurred to me before that a house with so many people in it could be this quiet.
Just when my eyes slowly close and my mind finally slows down, my phone vibrates.
I grab for it and read the message.

From Channie:
Are you still awake?

I text him back and watch as the three dots appear on my screen, showing me he is typing.

Can I come to your room?

My fingers hover over the keyboard.
What do I say?
Do I say yes? Do I say no?
What is the right thing to do?
I want him here, want to feel him close, but do I trust myself not to melt into his touch? And how much will it hurt having to see him sneak out of my room before the rest of the house wakes up?
It wouldn't be a problem if it was only me and the boys here, but with parents, managers, siblings... he can't slip up. Holding my hand in front of everyone is not the same. Holding my hand is innocent. It could mean nothing. But being seen leaving my room in the morning?
No, it would open up room for too many questions.
We can't slip up.

I know I should say no. I should say I'm tired. That I'll see him tomorrow.
But I am not so strong, and sneaking around is worth it. Because it's him. Because I know what it feels like to fall asleep in his arms, to feel the warmth of his embrace around me, to drive my fingertips over the edges of his face.
Chan is a drug I can't refuse.
And so I count my heartbeats, as my fingers type, "Yes, please."

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