Is it terrible that I've been avoiding Ernest since Friday night and it's now Wednesday, and I haven't responded to his texts about when we should plan our next meeting? I realize this is probably very immature on my part, but after the concert, I've just been feeling weird about being around him. It's not him, it's me. When the show was over, I made the excuse to Ernest that I had to wake up early the next day, which was a lie, of course. I couldn't sleep that night and ended up staying in bed until late in the afternoon.

I've been going out to the bar with Don every day this week, and I'm at the bar right now. As I think about Ernest and how I'll eventually have to talk to him, I feel Don put his arm around my shoulder. Smelling the alcohol on his breath, he starts shouting slightly in my ear, "What's wrong with you lately?"

"Nothing," I respond.

"That's bullshit," Don says.

"You've been moping around and it's a real buzzkill," he adds.

"I just have a lot on my mind," I reply.

"Oh? Could it be a girl?" Don asks.

"What?" I say, surprised.

"Wait! Am I right?" Don persists.

"Do you have a girl in your life?" he asks.

I turn my back away from Don. "Ugh, why would it be a girl?" I think to myself. I don't have the time for any kind of relationship, and I don't even want one. All the girls at this university are uptight, and I'm sure I'm not appealing to them.

Don turns the barstool around so that I face him. "If you have girl problems, I can help you," he says.

"I told you, I don't have girl problems," I respond, jokingly pushing his face away from mine.

"Let me help you, Jun! You always act like you have everything together, but I know you've got some problems under that cold shell," Don says.

I look up at Don, trying not to get mad at him because I know he's drunk. I finish my drink and say, "I'm going home."

"Wait, what? I was just kidding!" Don responds.

"I have to wake up early tomorrow, so just text me when you get home," I say.

"Jesus, fine, fine, Mom," Don says with a slight annoyance in his voice.

I grab my coat and head outside, trying to shake off the chill from the cold night air. I reach for my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and check the time. Hmm, it's only 9 PM. I wonder if Ernest is awake. Should I call him? But what if he thinks it's weird? I really need to talk to him, but I don't know how to act around him. I'm not even sure what's going on with me.

I stand outside the bar for a few minutes, staring at Ernest's contact information, weighing the pros and cons of calling him. With hesitation, I press the call button and hold the phone to my ear, listening to it ring. I'm about to hang up before it goes to voicemail when suddenly, I hear a voice on the other end. It's Ernest.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Ernest!" I say, trying to sound casual.

"Hi, Ye-jun," Ernest replies, sounding a little unsure.

"Sorry for calling so late," I say, feeling like an idiot.

"It's okay. Are you okay?" Ernest asks, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wanted to check in, I guess," I reply, trying to think of a better reason for my call.

"So, what are you up to right now?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"Just at home," Ernest says, still sounding a little hesitant.

"Do you want to hang out?" I blurt out before I can think better of it.

"Uh, right now?" Ernest asks, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, I was thinking we could grab something to eat if you're hungry," I suggest, hoping he'll say yes.

"Okay, I guess we can do that," Ernest agrees, and my heart leaps with excitement.

"Really? Great! Do you know the Waverly Diner? They're open 24/7," I say, trying to sound cool and collected.

"I'm not sure, but I can meet you there," Ernest says.

"Perfect. I'm already out, so I'll be there in about 6 minutes. I'll grab us a table," I say, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Okay, I'll probably be there in 15 minutes," Ernest says, sounding a little more confident.

"Cool, I'll see you soon," I say, ending the call and feeling a rush of adrenaline.

I head to the restaurant ahead of Ernest to secure us a table. When I arrive, the restaurant is not crowded, and only a few other people are scattered around talking amongst themselves. I tell the waiter I need a table for two and she seats me at a booth near the middle of the restaurant by a window.

I sit and try to gather my thoughts, but I'm not even hungry. I know I should eat something since I've been drinking, but I don't want Ernest to think that I was drunk when I called him. This is a strange thought as I don't think I've ever drunk dialed anyone before.

After a few more minutes, I hear the bell from the front door ring and I look up to see Ernest standing there awkwardly. I smile to myself and wave him over.

Ernest makes his way over to the booth and slides into the seat across from me. I smile at him and he returns it, though it seems a little forced. We both look at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Finally, I break the silence. "So, uh, have you been here before?" I ask, trying to make small talk.

"No, this is my first time," Ernest replies, looking around the restaurant. "It's nice, not too crowded."

The waiter comes over and takes our orders, and as she leaves, I try to think of something else to talk about. "So, how's your day been?"

"Oh, uh, it's been fine. Just school and then I went home."

"Oh, that's cool. Do you live close by? I mean, close to the school?" My attempt at making small talk is terrible.

"Hmmm, yeah, it's about a 10-minute walk. Uh, what about you?" Ernest asks with some nervousness in his voice.

"Yeah, I live at the Heritage Apartments."

"Oh, wow, those places are pretty nice, right?"

"I guess so. My parents picked them out when I moved here."

"Where are you originally from?"

"Korea."

"Oh! Really? Sorry, I don't mean to sound so surprised, but your English is very good."

I chuckle at this, "No, it's okay. My parents paid a lot of money for me to get a good education, so here we are."

"Hmm, it sounds like you didn't like the education."

"Well, I mean, I appreciate the education and opportunities it has given me, but it was definitely not my choice. My parents had a very specific plan for my life and I just had to go along with it."

"I see, that doesn't seem fair to you," Ernest says.

"Well, if you had Korean parents, then perhaps that would be the case for you," I try not to sound irritable.

"I'm sorry. You're right, I wouldn't understand," Ernest says, lowering his head. Dammit, I didn't mean to sound like an asshole to him.

"No, sorry. I wasn't trying to be defensive. I guess I just don't talk about this kind of stuff with others often..." I trail off, feeling a bit insecure that I might have made him feel uncomfortable.

I'm looking down at my hands, fiddling with them, unsure of what to say to Ernest. Suddenly, he reaches out and places his hand on mine. "It's okay, I'm here if you need to talk about this kind of thing," he says. I look up, surprised by the physical contact. Ernest has a warm smile and his hands are soft with a few paint colors on his skin. I chuckle, thinking he's a typical artist. Ernest notices and looks confused.

"Sorry, Ernest, I'm not laughing at you. I just noticed the paint on your hands."

Ernest takes his hand away, looking bashful. "I tried washing it off, but it's a new paint set I bought."

"You're a true artist, aren't you?" I give him a wide smile.

Ernest mimics my smile, and we both burst into laughter. It's the first time I've heard him laugh, and his unrestrained laughter is infectious.

"Your laugh is adorable!" I exclaim.

"Stop! You're going to make me laugh more," says Ernest, his eyes watering.

"What? I think it's adorable, and your laugh is making me laugh more!"

"We probably look like maniacs right now!"

"And I'm totally okay with that," I reply, laughing.

After calming down a bit from my laughing rage, I take a deep breath, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders. It's been a long time since I've been able to open up to someone like this, and Ernest's kind and understanding demeanor makes it easy.

"Thank you for listening, Ernest. I really appreciate it," I say.

"Of course, anytime," he replies, giving me a soft smile.

We sit in silence for a few moments, both lost in our own thoughts. It's a comfortable silence, and I find myself feeling grateful for Ernest's presence.

"Hey, I was thinking...would you maybe want to come to an art exhibit with me next week?" Ernest asks, breaking the silence.

"An art exhibit?" I repeat, surprised. "I'm not much of an art person, but I'd be down to go."

Ernest's face lights up. "Great! I think you'll really enjoy it. There's this one piece I've been dying to show someone. It's really incredible."

"Well, if you say it's that amazing, then I definitely need to see this painting," I say.

"I'm sure you'll appreciate it," Ernest says in an innocent tone.

We spend the rest of the late night dinner talking and laughing, and I feel my spirits lifted by Ernest's company. I can't help but feel excited for our upcoming art exhibit adventure, and start wondering what I should wear for our next meeting.