How many dates will it take to find The One?
Jisu’s traditional South Korean parents are concerned by what they see as her lack of attention to her schoolwork and her future. Working with Seoul’s premiere matchmaker to find the right boyfriend is one step toward ensuring Jisu’s success, and going on the recommended dates is Jisu’s compromise to please her parents while finding space to figure out her own dreams. But when she flubs a test then skips out on a date to spend time with friends, her fed-up parents shock her by shipping her off to a private school in San Francisco. Where she’ll have the opportunity to shine academically—and be set up on more dates!
Navigating her host family, her new city and school, and more dates, Jisu finds comfort in taking the photographs that populate her ever-growing social media account. Soon attention from two very different boys sends Jisu into a tailspin of soul-searching. As her passion for photography lights her on fire, does she even want to find The One? And what if her One isn’t parent and matchmaker approved?
Books by Melissa de la Cruz available from Harlequin TEEN and Inkyard Press
Something in Between
Someone to Love
29 Dates
#1 New York Times Bestselling Author
Melissa de la Cruz
29 DATES
With so much love, this book is dedicated to the Korean side of my family:
Francis de la Cruz and Ji Young (Christina) Hwang, Sebastian Francis Hyunhu Hwang de la Cruz and Marie Christina Huyoung Hwang de la Cruz
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
July 7, Summer Break
Chapter 2
July 9, Summer Break
Chapter 3
July 10, Summer Break
Chapter 4
July 13, Summer Break
Chapter 5
July 16, Summer Break
Chapter 6
July 18, Summer Break
Chapter 7
July 22, Summer Break
Chapter 8
July 27, Summer Break
Chapter 9
July 30, Summer Break
Chapter 10
August 1, Summer Break
August 2, Summer Break
Chapter 11
August 7, Summer Break
Chapter 12
August 12, Summer Break
Chapter 13
August 16, Summer Break
Chapter 14
August 20
Chapter 15
November 11, San Francisco
Chapter 16
November 21, San Francisco
Chapter 17
December 16, San Francisco
Chapter 18
December 20, San Francisco
Chapter 19
January 7, San Francisco
Chapter 20
January 13, San Francisco
Chapter 21
January 24, San Francisco
Chapter 22
February 15, San Francisco
Chapter 23
February 20, San Francisco
Chapter 24
March 5, San Francisco
Chapter 25
March 16, San Francisco
Chapter 26
March 23, San Francisco
Chapter 27
March 25, San Francisco
Chapter 28
March 28, San Francisco
Chapter 29
March 28, San Francisco
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Someone to Love by Melissa de la Cruz
In Korean culture, there is a common belief that any number that ends in nine, or “plus nine” as it’s called there, is bad luck and leads to more hardship and problems than usual.
PROLOGUE
DATE NO. 29
NAME: Kang Daehyun
* * *
INTERESTS:
Debate, Environmental Science, Lacrosse, Soccer
* * *
ACCOMPLISHMENTS:
Soccer Team Captain,
Early Acceptance to Harvard
* * *
Jisu: Hey, I’m Jisu.
DaehYUN: I’m Daehyun.
Jisu: Korean name! But you’re born and raised here?
DaehYUN: Yup, and you moved from Seoul not that long ago?
Jisu: Yeah, my parents decided it would be a good idea for me to become a last-minute international student and sent me across the Pacific to San Francisco. And here we are now.
DaehYUN: I’m not even going to try to relate. I can’t imagine moving to a whole new country.
Jisu: It hasn’t been the easiest. But I’ve met people along the way who’ve made it worth it.
DaehYUN: This is gonna sound silly, but I actually feel a little nervous right now.
Jisu: For real? It’s like we’re just hanging out!
DaehYUN: I know, but it’s my first seon. Even just saying that makes it sound official and formal. And you’re making me nervous. I even asked some friends for dating tips.
Jisu: And what did they tell you?
DaehYUN: That kindness is underrated. And common likes and dislikes are key. Heavy emphasis on the common dislikes. So, you’ve been on a lot of seons, both here and in Seoul?
Jisu: Yeah, but none of them have worked out...clearly. I did meet some cool guys and I’m actually friends with some of them. But there was never really that chemistry with anyone, you know? I love meeting new people, but I’m kind of over seons, to be honest.
DaehYUN: I bet the right guy could be the end of all seons for you. You seem to know what you want.
Jisu: What do you want? What are you trying to get out of these seons?
DaehYUN: Actually, I have a girlfriend, which might really screw me up in the long run if I keep sneaking out. I’m only going on these dates to appease my mother. She kinda hates my girlfriend.
Jisu: Oh, that’s too bad. I actually thought this might go somewhere.
DaehYUN: Well, it was nice knowing ya, Jees.
Jisu: Did you just call me Jees? I hate nicknames. Especially when someone you just met assigns you one.
1
The big red 79 percent circled at the top of Kim Jisu’s history exam wasn’t what worried her. It wasn’t the fact that she had actually studied hard. It wasn’t Mrs. Han’s look of concern that made her anxious either. No, it was the disappointment on her parents’ faces that Jisu could so clearly imagine that made her want to crumple up the exam, crawl under her desk and curl into a ball. She didn’t want to let them down.
So, this is how you’re going to start the school year? Don’t you know how important senior year of high school is? How do you plan on getting accepted into a top school here, or any university in America for that matter? Even if you want to move halfway across the world, your grades still have to be strong. Jisu could practically hear her parents’ endless nagging, their jansori.
There it was in bloodred, mocking her. Only 79 percent. A solid C+! Couldn’t Mrs. Han have bumped her over by just one point so that she could squeak by with a B-? The number nine was truly the worst. Anything ending in nine for her was the height of unlucky. Close, but no cigar—almost there, but not good enough. She would’ve felt equally miserable if she’d gotten 59 percent, 69 percent or even 89 percent. Actually if I got 89 percent, I would be really happy, Jisu thought. Except that it’s just one point shy of getting a 90 percent. And anything in the nineties is close e
nough to 100 percent, but still not perfect! Ugh.
Her parents were the type to question even a 100 percent grade by asking why she didn’t get 110 percent—wasn’t there extra credit?
“Dae-bak!” Park Minjung exclaimed, smiling as she looked at her exam. “I didn’t even study,” she bragged.
Jisu peered at Min’s test. An 86 percent—a solid B. You didn’t need perfect scores to become a pop star, which was Min’s dream. How could Jisu have done worse than a girl whose life was dedicated to selfies and singing classes?
Jisu slid her exam into her notebook so that no one could see. If only she could retake the exam, restart the year and redo all of high school.
“Jisu, don’t tell me you failed the first exam of the year,” Min said as she reapplied her lip gloss.
“I didn’t fail,” Jisu muttered. And technically she hadn’t. One could even argue that she’d scored several points above passing. This argument, of course, would never fly with her parents.
“Then how did you do? Why won’t you say what you got?” Min never did know when to shut up.
“Oh, Min, mind your own business,” Euni chimed from behind them.
For as long as Jisu could remember, Hong Eunice had always had her back. Euni was born seven days before Jisu and, aside from that one week, the two girls had always been in each other’s lives, growing up on the same street in Daechi-dong, taking the same classes at Daewon Foreign Language High School and enduring every extracurricular activity that their parents pushed onto them. Painting, archery, French, ballet—they were privileged to be exposed to an array of arts and cultures, but more often than not, it felt too deliberate, like they were being groomed to replace their parents in society. Like a boot camp for the upper class. Academics came naturally for Euni, but not so much for Jisu. Still, every time Jisu fell behind, Euni was there to help her catch up. She was also there for her whenever Min got a little too out of hand, which was often.
“This test was actually really hard,” Euni said. “I didn’t think I would even finish in time.” She was lying through her teeth. All three of them knew that she’d gotten the highest score in the class, as she always did. Euni was a great student but a terrible liar, and Jisu loved her for it.
Jisu thought about the weekend she had wasted sitting at hagwon like a prisoner, doing her school homework and then chipping away at all the additional readings and exercises from her hagwon tutors. She could’ve walked around Gangnam alongside the Han River and taken photos on her brand new DSLR. But no, this would’ve disappointed her parents. If you spent the same amount of time studying as you do with your camera, your class ranking would be much higher. If Jisu knew anything about herself, it was that she was definitely not the academic type.
“Euni, you’re lucky I don’t actually try,” Min said as she checked her reflection in her compact. “You would have serious competition if I ever opened one of these books.”
“No one would want you to.” Jisu pushed the eraser end of her pencil into Min’s contoured forehead. “You might grow wrinkles from thinking too much. Then you’d look like Euni and me, and no record label would ever sign you.”
Euni laughed and even Min couldn’t help cracking a smile. Jisu felt better immediately. Wasn’t this how you were supposed to spend your time in high school? Enjoying time with your friends, instead of getting caught up in your anxious thoughts about the future?
“Class, settle down.” Mrs. Han’s booming voice cut through the chatter. “This exam was a tough one, but I don’t want you to be discouraged. Senior year is the most important year. I cannot emphasize this enough. College, your career, your future—the beginning of a great new chapter is about to start. Isn’t that exciting?”
It was not exciting.
It was absolutely terrifying. Jisu looked at her classmates and could imagine everyone’s future but hers. As annoying as Min could be, she was talented. Eventually her perfectly symmetrical face, with her expressive eyes and natural pout, would be plastered over every bus and subway stop in Seoul as part of a major ad campaign for her hit album. It was only a matter of time. Euni’s perfect grades meant Harvard or Seoul National University for sure. Then there was the rest of them—there were rumors that Lee Taeyang would follow his brothers’ footsteps to Oxford. Choi Sungmi was a shoo-in for Yonsei, one of the top universities in Seoul, while Kang Joowon had spent the last three summers playing cello at the prestigious Interlochen Arts Program, making strides with his fellow camp members in securing admission to Juilliard. And everyone knew Kim Heechan was flunking, but he was from a chaebol family, so a generous donation would get him into Seoul National University and he’d eventually take over the family business.
But Jisu? What was next for her?
Her phone buzzed, alerting her to an email from Ms. Moon, the Matchmaker. Aka the Matseon Queen. Ms. Moon came from a family of matchmakers. It could easily be argued that Ms. Moon, her mother and her aunt were collectively responsible for the social infrastructure of Seoul’s upper class.
Ms. Moon was well into her sixties, but her excellent psychological profiling skills, along with the consistent pulse she had on pop culture and trending topics, had made her successful in pairing off couples in their late twenties and thirties left and right, for several decades and counting.
After a long streak of success, Ms. Moon had recently turned her attention to a slightly younger crowd. Rumor had it that a certain matriarchal head of a chaebol family was behind this additional business venture. Ms. Moon had found the perfect match for her son, a fairly easy task given that he was one of the most eligible bachelors of Seoul: handsome, charming and heir to the lucrative family business. But the concern was with the beautiful but painfully shy and introverted daughter. She was a senior in high school, the baby of the family and a target for suitors whose sole intention was to seduce their way into the family business.
If you asked her, Ms. Moon would probably agree that the end of high school and start of college was too early a time to look for a life partner, but she’d also tell you that it was never too late to get yourself acquainted with the right crowd, which really translated to the crowd approved by socialite and social-climbing parents.
As long as the status-obsessed parents of Seoul were willing to pay for someone to keep tabs on their children’s social lives, Ms. Moon was willing to provide that service.
Dear Jisu,
This is a courtesy reminder of your seon with Lee Taemin tonight at 7:00 p.m. at the 10 Corso Como Café. Taemin’s one-sheet is attached again for your review. Please confirm receipt of this email. I hope the two of you have a wonderful time.
Warm wishes,
Ms. Moon
Ughhhh. Another seon.
Earlier in the year Mrs. Kim had heard whisperings from her friends about Ms. Moon expanding her clientele. Mrs. Kim was unlike the other mothers in that she was still working full-time even though, as her socialite peers would say, their family didn’t necessarily have to be a two-income household. Working as a head data analyst at the Han Group wasn’t quite the same as taking three-hour lunches and planning elaborate charity functions, but she loved her job and that was reason enough to stay. Still, Mrs. Kim subscribed to all the other rules of society, especially ones that concerned the raising of her only child, and signed Jisu up for Ms. Moon’s matchmaking service.
Sure, it was icky to so blatantly climb up and maintain your place in society, especially through your own child, but no one was above such gestures if they worked. Even Jisu’s lifelong friendship with Euni had started with each of their parents cautiously eyeing and inquiring about the others. This was the world that they lived in. And so Mrs. Kim sent Jisu on seons all summer in the hopes that she might snatch a promising boyfriend who would fit in with her promising friends, who would turn into a promising fiancé, who would then become a promising husband and complete every Korean mother’s idea o
f a picture-perfect life for her daughter.
But summer had come to an end and Jisu had not made a love match. Another flop.
Socializing with the right people is just as important as getting into a top university. Her mother’s nagging jansori was inescapable. Her parents’ voices were like buzzing mosquitos that wouldn’t leave her alone. But she had no choice other than to comply. The Matseon Matchmaker was highly selective about which clients she took on and certainly not cheap. With Jisu’s not-so-promising high school transcript, her parents likely had pulled some strings to get her on the exclusive client list. Jisu hadn’t asked for any of this; her parents were doing it all for her. And if she did want anything, it was to be a good daughter. To make all their efforts worth it.
“You have another date?” Euni asked. “I thought your mom said the seons were just for the summer.”
“Yeah, but none of them turned into anything, which was definitely not my mother’s plan.” Jisu opened the email attachment.
LEE TAEMIN. Occupation: Studio art student with focus in sculpture. Education: Seoul Institute of the Arts (full scholarship; first solo art exhibit to happen early next year).
It was impressive, like the others, and went on and on with a list of his accomplishments. Jisu cringed at the thought of whatever overload of information her mother had sent to Ms. Moon so she could put together her profile.
Kim Jisu. Average student. Pretty enough (Min’s makeup lessons helped). No real accomplishments (she is seventeen—give her a break).
The truth was she was just an ordinary, average teen. She liked all the things many girls her age liked—selfies, slime videos on Instagram, rom-coms, candy. And disliked the same things everyone disliked—acne, rude people, Instagram ads for ugly clothes emblazoned with “empowering” statements. (Seriously, who were they kidding with the $800 The Future is Female T-shirts?)
Cute boys were in the plus column for sure, but some of the seon guys she met were so serious that, even if they were cute, it almost didn’t matter. Her father liked to joke that any guy with an expensive car was handsome, after which her mother would quip that it wasn’t so much about a guy with an expensive car as it was about a guy who could afford a car as expensive as yours.
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