Yeju

“By the way, I’m moving out tomorrow.”

I blink, letting the words sink in. That is not an announcement I expected to hear from my ex-girlfriend. Especially after we just had sex.

Sliding a hand over my face, I croak, “What? Why?”

Yuna casts me an exasperated glance as she jumps into her tight jeans. “Yeju, come on. We broke up almost a year ago.” She searches for her bra in the mess of my room. “And I’ve been trying to move out all this time. You know that.”

I swallow the bitter lump in my throat and dig my head into the pillow. Sure, we did break up, but I did not think much of it given that we still fuck every week. Accidentally. On a whim. Not on purpose, not really. I mean, how do you not fuck your ex when she lives next door in a two-bedroom apartment you rented together?

I guess that’s why Yuna wanted to move out.

My gaze leaves her after she puts on a shirt. “Right. So where’s your new place?”

“Right next door to Gabby and Harvey’s, actually, just three streets down from here. One of their neighbors is moving out, and that landlord is looking for a new person to fill the lease. It’s a three-bedroom, so I’ll be living with two other random girls. They seem cool so far, but I’ll have Gabby and Harvey next door, so it’ll be good no matter what.”

I set my jaw. Knowing that Yuna is moving not too far away somehow hurts a little more. She is still going to be in the same West Los Angeles area, at a similar distance from UCLA, but she’d rather live with a bunch of strangers than with me, her ex-girlfriend of a year. She’d rather live next to her besties that I introduced her to than next to me, the person who showed her around the school and the city when she first arrived.

“Okay, yeah. Have fun.” I do not hide the bitterness in my tone.

Yuna sighs. Her pink hair is all neat and tied up now, a stark contrast to her wild sex hair just a few minutes ago.

“Don’t be like this, Yeju. You know it’s not sustainable to keep living together like this. We’re broken up, but we keep”—she gestures wildly between us—“doing this. We’re never gonna fully move on like this. And I want to move on. I want to find someone else, date other people without them getting scared off by you, or by our history, and- and find… true love. Don’t you too?”

True love. Yuna’s always going on and on about that. But love is not a concept I believe in anymore. Not after I spent the entire summer watching my parents break off their thirty-year relationship.

My eyes flutter as the memories begin to surge. My mother’s tear-stained face. My father’s distraught expression as he tried to explain himself. The three girls, slightly younger than me, sitting at the cafe. One of them crying into the arms of another, while the last girl just stared at me. Just sat there and fucking stared at me with her bright, round eyes, as my parents screamed at each other.

“How could you keep this from me for twenty years?”

I close my eyes and shake my mother’s voice off. I have had enough of this drama. Fuck true love. Nothing lasts forever. There’s nobody out there good enough to have your heart break so much for.

“Not really,” I deadpan. “I just need someone to fuck.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do. And I’m too busy for a relationship anyway. Gotta finish up this Ph.D. program and all.”

“I’m also doing a Ph.D.,” Yuna reminds me.

I sit up on the bed. “Yeah, well, you’re a happy little second-year. Give it a few more years and you’ll understand.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Well, I want you to find someone too. You also deserve someone.”

The look of pity on Yuna’s face sends a bolt of fire to my gut, and I ball my fists over the blanket. “I don’t need someone. And don’t act all that noble, when you’re the one ruining everything, okay? We have a perfect fuck buddy arrangement here, but no, you just have to give that up for a crapshoot like finding true love.”

I spit the last three words out like venom.

Yuna purses her lips. “I’m. Not. Your. Fuck buddy,” she says through clenched teeth before storming out of the room.

Ah shit. I shouldn’t have said all that to Ms. true-love-exists I-don’t-want-sex-I-want-to-make-love Shin Yuna.

Groaning, I quickly put on my pants—they somehow found their way under my bed—and follow her into the living room. Yuna paces about in the space behind the couch, and when I reach for her, she shrugs me off and heads for the kitchen.

“Yuna,” I say, “you know I don’t mean it like that.”

She ignores me as she grabs a packet of chips from the pantry and starts to swallow her anger with snacks. I lean against the counter, the only division between the kitchen and the living room, and sigh. When Yuna gets like this, it is impossible to get her to speak until her anger simmers. And so I wait.

After finishing the packet of chips, Yuna finally speaks. “Anyway, I’ll be out of this place soon. Whatever between us will be permanently over.”

I rub a hand over my face. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’re gonna move out?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past few months?” She twirls her hand around the packed boxes lined against the wall and below the mounted television.

Oh. Is that what the boxes are for? For the past few weeks, cardboard boxes sprouted out from Yuna’s room like spawned creatures in a video game, but I thought they were for donations to Goodwill or something. Yuna has way too many clothes.

“I thought you were just tidying up,” I admit.

“With boxes?” Yuna rolls her eyes. “Anyway, the movers are coming tomorrow morning to take these away. Oh, and the new person will be here in the afternoon. Be nice.”

“New person? You already found someone to take over your room?” My voice raises in annoyance. I know her room is her part of the lease agreement, but I can’t believe Yuna did all this without discussing it with me. I guess there wasn’t a good time to discuss; we’ve been spending all our limited time together either quarreling or having sex—not a good combination.

“Well, of course! I’m not going to pay for the rent of two rooms. I can’t afford that with my Ph.D. stipend. But don’t worry, you’re not gonna room with someone dodgy. This new person is like a friend of a friend, and she seems really sweet in all my interactions with her so far. I’ve told the landlord and transferred my lease to her already. Yeju, please be nice to her and take better care of the common living area and stuff, alright?”

Begrudgingly, I nod. In this economy and with L.A.’s atrocious housing market, I’ll settle for a friend of a friend…

A thought strikes me. Yuna’s friends are mostly queer—and mostly single. And I’ve seen the type of people she hangs out with: extroverted, wild, and beautiful. Just like her. Curiosity grows and my lips curl.

“So, a friend of a friend, huh?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Is she a friend of one of your lesbian friends?”

Yuna frowns, but her expression changes to exasperation when she realizes my intention.

“Uh, Yeju, if you’re thinking of possibly getting with this new apartment mate of yours, just know that… she is a college student.”

My mouth drops. “What? Fucking hell, Yuna, you mean I’m gonna be living with a baby?”

“I think she’s only a few years younger than me.”

“And you’re younger than me! Can she even legally drink?”

“I’m not sure.” Yuna shrugs, a small smirk creeping up her lips. “I didn’t check that.”

“Oh my god…” My body slumps onto the table. “I can’t believe I’ll be living next to a dumb college kid.”

Yuna scoffs. “She’s definitely not dumb.” She trashes the empty bag of chips before leaning towards me on the counter. “Remember how I told you my ex from Singapore recently got into UCLA for college?”

I nod. Yuna grew up in Singapore before moving to the US at the young age of fifteen, skipping all of high school and going straight into college. Yeah, Yuna is that smart. And so, as she is doing her Ph.D., her ex is just beginning college—in the same school. Talk about coincidence.

“So anyway,” Yuna says, “I was talking to her one day, and she mentioned she knows someone from UCLA who needs a place to live for the new school year. So I thought, anybody who’s a friend of RJ’s must be a great person. And yeah, I got in touch with her. She sounds very sweet over the phone. She’s a year below RJ, and a biochemistry major. Oh, she’ll be a great apartment mate! You’ll love her!”

“Like I said, I don’t need love. I need sex.”

Yuna slaps me on the arm. “You’re unbearable. Be nice to her!” she instructs again as she skips back to her room, her usual cheerful mood restored.

As her door slams behind me, I bury my head in my arms.

Yuna is moving out, and the new apartment mate is probably too young for me. If I want any action this semester, I might really need to start talking to people and—I shudder at the thought—going out.

Or maybe I should just stay in my room. Maybe my pent-up, no-sex-for-weeks energy can get me to work doubly hard and finally finish up my Ph.D..

The idea lasts for less than a millisecond before I snort. Who am I kidding? I whip out my phone and open the App Store.

Time to re-download Tinder.