Ever since that night, I’d developed a new habit. Looking for Arga. Not on purpose, actually. At least, that’s what I always told myself. Every time I walked into class, my eyes automatically searched for the tall figure who usually sat in the back corner. Whenever I heard a motorcycle stop in front of campus, for some reason, I always wondered who had arrived. And the most annoying part— Arga seemed to know. “Who are you looking for?” The voice came from right behind me. I almost dropped my phone. “Oh my God!” Arga merely raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the surprise?” “You came out of nowhere.” “I’ve been here the whole time.” I glanced at the empty chair beside me. “The whole time?” “Yeah.” “Then why didn’t you say anything?” “You were busy.” “Busy doing what?” “Looking around behind you.” I immediately fell silent. He smiled faintly. Damn. “I wasn’t looking for anyone.” “I never said you were looking for me.” I glared at him. Arga just sat down casually. “You’re annoying.” “I thought you weren’t looking for anyone.” “Different context.” “Hmm.” He opened his laptop as if our conversation had never happened. I tried to focus on my phone screen again. But five minutes later, his voice sounded once more. “What time are you heading home later?” I turned to him. “Why?” “Just answer.” “Five, like usual.” Arga gave a small nod. “Okay.” “Okay what?” “Nothing.” I furrowed my brow. “You’re weird.” “Just figuring that out?” I almost laughed. Almost. But before I could answer, the professor walked in. Our conversation came to an end. It was ten past five when I walked out of the building. I deliberately slowed my pace. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I knew Arga hadn’t left yet. Or maybe because I hoped he hadn’t. As soon as I reached the parking lot, I saw his motorcycle. And sure enough. Arga was standing beside it, playing on his phone. The moment he saw me, he slipped his phone into his pocket. “Took you long enough.” I stopped. “Were you waiting for me?” “No.” “Then what?” “I was playing on my phone.” “In the parking lot?” “Yeah.” “Alone?” “Yeah.” I eyed him suspiciously. Instead, Arga took a helmet from his motorcycle. “Put it on.” I shook my head. “I can get home by myself.” “I know.” “Then?” “I want to take you home.” “Why?” He fell silent for a moment. His gaze shifted toward me. “Because I want to.” Such a simple answer left me unable to respond. I accepted the helmet. “What if people start talking?” “Let them.” “Aren’t you afraid?” “Afraid of what?” “That they’ll think we’re—” “Dating?” I immediately fell silent. Arga looked at me for several seconds. Then he smiled faintly. “Not yet.” My heart seemed to stop for a second. “Not yet what?” “Not dating yet.” He put on his helmet. “Let’s go.” I was still standing there. “Arga.” “Hmm?” “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” “Doing what on purpose?” “Making me all flustered.” He chuckled softly. “What if I say I am?” I stared at him. For the first time, Arga didn’t look like he was joking. And that only made me even more nervous. I finally climbed onto the motorcycle. “Hold on.” I instinctively grabbed the back of the seat. “There?” “Yeah.” The motorcycle started moving. For the first few minutes, we were both silent. Until Arga finally said, “If you fall, don’t blame me.” “I’m holding on back here.” “Exactly.” “Then what am I supposed to do?” He was quiet for a moment. “Hold on to me.” I immediately refused. “No.” “All right then.” The motorcycle sped up again. But when we went over a slightly damaged stretch of road, my body nearly lurched forward. Reflexively, my hand grabbed the edge of Arga’s jacket. He chuckled. “I thought you didn’t want to.” “Shut up.” “I haven’t even said anything.” “I know.” This time, I could feel his smile. And for some reason, the ride home that day felt much shorter than usual. When we reached the front of my house, I got off and took off the helmet. “Thanks.” Arga took the helmet from me. “Yeah.” I was about to go inside when he called out. “Hey.” I turned around. “Don’t head home alone tomorrow.” “Why?” “I’ll pick you up.” I frowned. “Who asked you to?” “I did.” “Why does it have to be you?” Arga looked at me for a moment. Then his answer came in a casual tone. “Because I don’t like it when you go home with someone else.” I fell silent. Arga immediately started his motorcycle. As if he’d just said something completely ordinary. “Tomorrow at five.” “Arga.” He turned to me. I wanted to ask what he meant. But the words never came out. In the end, I only said, “Don’t be late.” His smile appeared again. “Got it.” The motorcycle left the front yard. I stood there for several more seconds. And it wasn’t until I went into my room that I realized one thing. Maybe the problem wasn’t that I’d started looking for Arga. But now— Arga was the one making me get used to looking for him.