After taking a long, hot shower, I text Jaewoo on the way back to my room. Sorry for leaving like that. I had a great time with you today.
Jaewoo responds immediately. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for texting me that you got back safe.
For the next few weeks, Jaewoo is more attentive than usual, constantly checking in, sending me his schedule every morning, and calling me at night. I try to put the conversation I had with Sun out of my head, but it worries me to think Jaewoo is messing up his own opportunities because of me. I know that I’ve canceled practice sessions to be with him. It’s just that with the showcase and Jaewoo’s packed schedule, I feel like I’m having to choose between Jaewoo and my future more and more and I feel . . . overwhelmed.
Since my cello instructor at school has to spread her time between students, I schedule a private lesson with Eunbi over video. After playing my solo for her—“Vocalise” by the Russian composer Sergei Rachmaninoff—I listen as she makes corrections and tells me which parts need a bit more finessing.
As our lesson is finishing up, she says, “Before I let you go, I wanted to tell you about an email I got this morning. The LA Philharmonic is interested in featuring soloists from the local high schools. It’s by invitation only and was sent out to all the teachers in the area. The audition is the last Saturday of June.”
That’s a week after the showcase.
“I was hoping to enter you,” Eunbi says, her enthusiasm evident through the screen. “I really think you should come. It’s a great opportunity. Jenny, is something the matter?”
“No, I—” I paste a smile on my face. “Thank you for telling me. Can I have some time to think about it?”
That night at dinner, Sori and Angela notice my lack of appetite.
“What’s wrong, Jenny?” Angela asks. “Tteok-bokki’s your favorite.”
We’re back at the Korean restaurant outside SAA’s main gate, sharing a hot plate of the spicy cylinder rice cakes.
When I tell them what Eunbi said, they’re quiet for a few seconds.
Then Sori asks, “Are going to do it?”
“I’d have to leave Seoul a month early.”
“But it’s, like, the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“I don’t have to do the Philharmonic as long as the showcase goes well.” Though it’s not the same. A solo performance at the showcase will be great for my resume, but a spot on the LA Philharmonic for the entire summer? That is an opportunity of a lifetime.
“Is it ’cause of Jaewoo?” Angela asks softly.
And I know what she’s asking. Is it because I don’t want to leave him?
Only a few weeks ago, I told him I didn’t want him to pass up on opportunities because of me. Shouldn’t I say the same for myself?
Sighing, I reach for my wallet to pay.
“What’s that?” Angela asks.
I follow her finger to where she’s pointing at a small corner of plastic peeking out from one of the wallet’s inner pockets.
I pull out the sticker photo, the one Jaewoo and I took in the booth back in November. I place it at the center of the table and Angela and Sori crowd around it.
“Oh my God, it’s you and Jaewoo!” Angela exclaims.
“Where was this taken?” Sori asks.
“In LA.”
“And you keep it in your wallet?” Angela beams. “How cute!”
“Emo!” a loud voice shouts from behind us, calling the restaurant worker. Startled, I look up to see Jina and a friend of hers sitting two tables down. I’d been so caught up in my own head, I hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings.
But if Jina heard any of our conversation, she doesn’t show it, ordering a plate of tteok-bokki for her table.
“Does Jaewoo have this same photograph?” Angela asks. “Don’t sticker photos get printed in pairs?”
“The printer of the machine broke when printing our photos so I’m the only one with a physical copy. Which reminds me, I should send it to him again.”
I hover the camera over the sticker photo. As I press capture, a text message appears.
Are you free? I’m parked behind the library.
“It’s Jaewoo,” I say, grabbing the photo from the table and stuffing it into my pocket. “I wasn’t expecting to see him this week. He’s been so busy . . .”
“Did you forget?” Sori asks. “I booked one of the practice rooms for our rehearsal.”
Dammit. I forgot. “Can we reschedule?”
“Are you serious? You know how difficult it is to secure practice rooms.”
“Don’t be mad, Sori-yah,” Angela attempts to intercede. “Jenny hardly ever gets to spend time with Jaewoo.”
“God, this is reminding so much like how it was with Nathaniel. You’re not his beck and call girl, you know? You don’t have to drop everything just because he comes around.”
“He’s the one with the schedule,” I say defensively.
“You have a schedule too. We need to practice or we won’t be ready for the showcase. I thought you said you needed something unique to stand out in your portfolio. Are you really going to blow your chances of a future, a long-term one, for a guy who can never, and I mean never, put you first?”
Sori’s voice breaks on the last sentence, her eyes never leaving mine. I know part of her frustration comes from her concern for me, but also a part of it is stems from her history with Nathaniel.
“It’s okay,” Angela says softly. “When’s the next time you’ll get this chance? You should go, yeah? Every moment is precious.” I give Sori an apologetic look and then get up from the table.
Guilt gnaws at me for abandoning Sori as I run through the school gates and across the lawn toward the library. She’s not wrong. I should be practicing for the showcase, since a great performance will help my portfolio stand out from all the others applying to music schools next year. That’s what I should be thinking about, next year, my future, not this moment, running toward a boy who I know can never truly be mine. But I can’t help myself, we hardly get to see each other as it is, and after the showcase, I’ll only have a month left in Seoul. I need to take advantage of every moment we can grab together.
Jaewoo’s car is parked where he said it was, right at the curb of the street behind the library. The passenger door is unlocked and I jump inside. He’s already facing me, a warm smile on his face. I fling myself across the console and kiss him soundly on the lips.
He laughs when I release him. “It’s good to see you too.”
“How long do you have?”
He grimaces. “Not long. We’re filming an episode of Catch Me If You Can this weekend. We already filmed the Seoul portion, but we’re leaving soon to film the rest. If I head out in a half hour, I should make it in time.”
A delivery van drives close by us down the street, honking at a few jaywalking students.
“Do you think we’re too exposed here?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He shifts the gear into drive. We take a few side roads to a small parking garage where Jaewoo leaves his car, grabbing a ball cap out of the backseat.
The street outside the parking garage is empty, the few open businesses a chicken shop, a beauty store, and three karaoke places with bright neon signs.
Jaewoo and I look at each other, clearly having the same idea.
We pick one at random and go down a flight of stairs into the basement of the building. It’s about half the size as Uncle Jay’s place, with six small rooms on either side of a poorly lit hall, overseen by a crone-like woman sitting on a low stool watching a K-drama.
She gives us a narrow-eyed once-over as Jaewoo hands over cash, paying for an hour in the room even though we have less than thirty minutes.
Once in our room Jaewoo takes off his baseball cap and picks up the controller to queue in a few songs. I glance at the door, where there’s a small window, glazed over from age and debris. Then the first of the songs begins, and I don’t know who moves first but we’re suddenly in each other’s arms, kissing like we can’t get enough of each other. The backs of my knees hit the edge of the seat and we break apart only for me to scoot onto the faux leather, with Jaewoo climbing over me.
Slowly he lowers his body, watching me closely, to make sure this is okay.
I nod, almost imperceptibly, bending my arm to wrap my hand around his forearm. His muscles are taut as he holds the majority of his weight off me. I close my eyes just as his lips reach mine, and they’re soft, and gentle, and achingly sweet. Everything that was rigid and nervous inside me melts with the touch of his lips.
The music he’d queued up earlier transitions into another song as I kiss him back, a bit more aggressively, moving my arms to circle his neck, my legs gripping his waist. His hands tremble as he unbuttons my shirt, while I pull his shirt from his waistband.
When his fingers brush against my rib cage, I gasp, and his eyes immediately flit to mine. “Are you all right?” he asks. “Is this okay?”
This is the farthest we’ve ever gone, and though I’m nervous, the answer is “Yes,” as I reach for him. “Yes.”
We don’t stop until we realize it’s silent in the room, the songs on the queue having run out.
I look to the monitor to see the timer displays 29:00 minutes.
“We should go,” I say, sitting up. My whole face is flushed. He’s no better.
“I could be late,” he says with a groan. “I’ll just be late.”
I edge off the seat and stand. “I don’t want you to be late. And also . . .” I blush, “I want more time, for this, for us.”
“Yeah.” He joins me, a crooked smile on his lips. “I do too.”
We each tidy up the other person. He buttons my shirt and I smooth down his hair and put on his cap, flipping it forward so that the bill shadows his eyes.
Outside, the karaoke room owner inspects us closely, but we must pass the test because she doesn’t say anything.
Five minutes later, Jaewoo drops me off outside my dorm.
In my room, Sori’s not back yet. I try to do my history homework, but it’s hard to concentrate, replaying those moments with Jaewoo over and over again.
When Sori does finally show up, she doesn’t say a word to me, sitting at her desk and putting in her earbuds.
I really want to talk to her, to process what happened, but she’s giving off scary vibes. At ten, she leaves her desk and shuts off the light. Facing the wall, she goes to sleep.
