“Kelly is two syllables,” I point out.
“Not the point, Monroe!”
I’m biting back a laugh when there’s another tap at the door.
We both look up, half expecting Mr. Noh again, only to discover we’re wrong. My heart does a little flip as we do.
Jin stands in the doorway, dressed in his usual plain black T-shirt and dark denim, looking distinctly out of place against the colorful alphabet posters and construction paper art decorating my classroom walls. But in the best way imaginable.
His hair is windswept and messy, half across his brow and borderline falling into his eyes.
…his eyes which are decidedly on me. Which are penetrating enough that heat creeps up my cheeks.
“Jin?” I say in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you to dinner,” he answers casually, the left side of his mouth tugging up only slightly. “Is that allowed, Miss Teacher, or am I breaking all the rules?”
Kelly’s brows shoot toward her hairline. She turns her head toward me and mouths, “Oh my god! Sooo hot!”
I’m unable to contain my smile as I ignore her and answer, “I’ll allow it. But I might have to give you detention if you don’t learn to behave yourself.”
Our flirtation lingers in the air as I slide my tote over my shoulder and meet him at the door. Kelly hops off my desk with her binder still pressed against her chest.
“Have fun, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Jin takes me to one of my favorite restaurants in all of Busan.
It’s a cozy little place hidden away on a side street in Nampo-dong that has tables with built-in grills and potted plants for decor.
The menu is simple, comprised of various cuts of meat you cook yourself, served alongside what’s known as banchan—Korean side dishes like a spicy cucumber salad or steamed eggplant meant to be paired with the grilled meat.
Jin handles the grilling, laying strips of marinated beef across the hot surface and flipping them at exactly the right moment. The meat sizzles and pops, filling the air with the amazing aroma of seasoned beef and chicken.
I watch him work, my chin propped in my hand. “So,” I say, “are you going to tell me why you picked me up from school? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not exactly your usual style. You tend to avoid stuffy establishments like schools.”
Jin shrugs, using the tongs to transfer a cooked piece of beef onto my plate. “Sometimes I don’t like you walking too many blocks. Or taking the subway.”
“I’ve been taking the subway for two years. Since before I met you.”
“I’ve never liked it,” he says, adding another piece to my plate then a third. “I’d prefer it if you let me arrange a driver for you.”
I stare at him. “A driver? Jin, it takes me fifteen minutes to get from home to work. By foot and subway. That seems a little excessive.”
“It would put my mind at ease.”
“Why?” I press. “Is there something I should be worried about?”
The muscle in his jaw twitches almost imperceptibly. “No.”
“You sure? Because you say it’s nothing, but then you also don’t want me riding the subway. So which is it?” I reach over and touch his wrist, meeting his gaze directly. “All I’m asking for is honesty. If you think it’s too dangerous for me to walk around on my own, I’d like you to say so. I want to know about it.”
A moment passes where he doesn’t answer and his expression remains maddeningly neutral.
But I do know him well enough to pick up on the tensionin the set of his shoulders. His tight grip on the tongs is another telltale sign.
“It’s okay,” he says finally. “I’m just being extra cautious, Tokki-ya. Get to and from work how you wish.”
I’m on the verge of pushing harder. Demanding answers and making him tell me what’sreallygoing on that has him so concerned.
