Top five reasons I might possibly have a potential thing for Jihoon.
That face.
That body.
Don’t be shallow. He’s sweet.
Authentic.
Sensitive, good listener, great cook. Technically this brings the list to seven.
Top five reasons I should not have a crush on Jihoon.
Are you twelve? Adults have relationships, not crushes.
Work. #makingpartner
He lives in Korea.
Hana’s cousin. (Better star this one. Might be reason number one.)
Don’t be the rebound from his breakup. (Could be number one. Or living in Korea is number one. It’s a three-way tie because those are all solid reasons.)
Jihoon is out when I wake up on Monday, and I experience a dip of dissatisfaction. I’m used to his morning routine—coffee, chatter, and filling me in on what’s going on in the Korean news cycle—and it’s irritating to shift back to my usual habit of moving straight to work emails.
I flip on the news to fill the space up with some sound. Wars, trade deals. Sadness, negativity. Some Asian singer is supposedly missing, but it’s not thought to be foul play. Sam Yao’s new action movie trailer is out. I turn it back off because it’s time to get going.
At work, I take two Tylenols and drink some water to get rid of my eternal headache, then stay until the lights start to power down all over the office. When I finally leave, it’s to a dark rainy chill that slides through my wool blazer.
The phone rings on the streetcar, and I answer without looking. “Hello.”
“Hi, Ari.”
It’s Phoebe, and I seriously consider lying and saying I’m about to go into the subway to buy some time. The only reason I don’t is that it means I’ll have to deal with it later when I have even less energy. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Who said anything had to be wrong?” Her voice is tight.
“Phoebe, I haven’t had the best day.” The unspoken order is there: tell me what you want because I am far from being in the mood to deal with you.
She sniffs. “Mom wants you to come for dinner tomorrow.”
“Why are you calling me and not her?” I glare at the phone, wondering if this is Mom’s way of trying to get us to reconcile.
“Mom is busy trying to get Dad to eat a carrot to kick-start his heart health and hiding his laptop so he can’t work.”
Phoebe’s delivery is so dry and her words ring so true, I can’t help it. I laugh. “I’m busy with work.”
“So?”
“So…” I stop. Too busy to see the Dad I might have lost? “Nothing. I’ll be there.” I’ll have to work even longer tonight if I have to waste three hours at my parents’ house, but there’s nothing to be done about it.
Waste. I roll that around. I don’t like that it was the first word that came to mind when I thought of spending time with my family.
I grab some flowers at the corner store to cheer myself up and head upstairs, where Jihoon is on the phone. His back is to me, so he doesn’t hear the door open or me putting away my things.
He also doesn’t hear me because lovely, kind Jihoon is in a rage. I stop with one shoe off. I’ve never heard his voice so loud or harsh. His shoulders are hunched forward as he paces and speaks faster. Then he stops and listens, one hand against the wall and his head bowed, the phone pressed to his ear.
Shit, this has big ex energy all over it, and I’m torn between tiptoeing to my room or standing there like a creepy eavesdropper because he’s talking to someone who can clearly generate a lot of passion, and I want to know more.
