by Maurene Goo
I squirmed as I waited for his response, wanting to hurl myself off the boat into the water with every second that passed.
“Nope, not anymore,” he said, eyes staring off into the dark water.
“Oh, okay.” Not anymore?
He looked down. “I’m not into the whole dating thing.”
My heart deflated with a slow squeak. I tried to make a joke out of it. “Ah, saving yourself for marriage?”
He threw his head back and laughed that dorky laugh of his. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. When he calmed down he looked over at me, the distance between us mere inches. Our hands almost brushed on the edge of the bench.
“Is your dad going to kill you for this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual to cover up the guilt that had been creeping in ever since the coast guard arrived.
He shrugged. “Maybe. I couldn’t care less.”
Luckily the awkward moment was interrupted by a strong wind that kicked up noisily around us and I rubbed my arms for warmth.
“Are you cold or something?” he asked. I realized I was basically clutching myself under the thin blanket. Too bad Luca didn’t have a suit jacket he could drape over me while complaining about what a dimwit I was for not being properly dressed for the cold evening. Perfect K drama moment wasted.
“A little bit, yeah. I’m wearing a short lace dress by the ocean. At night. Like a genius.”
Luca smiled and his eyes swept over me, very quickly, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. “You look good.”
I had no sass at the ready for this genuine compliment. Just a meek, “Um, thanks.” Luca was doing too good a job of the K drama hot-dude mixed signals. I looked anxiously toward the marina, wondering if my friends were there yet. I had texted them once the coast guard arrived.
I needed to dissect the hell out of this night with Fiona and Wes.
Suddenly, I felt Luca shoving something onto my head. “What are you doing?” I felt around my head and realized it was his beanie.
“To keep you warm,” he said casually, hands already tucked back under his blanket.
I adjusted it so that it wasn’t shoved into my eyes, its wool still warm from Luca’s own head. “Thank you?”
He shook his head with a tsk. “Aren’t you a science nerd? Everyone knows if you keep your head warm, you’ll warm up the rest of your body.”
I scoffed. “Okay, that’s, like, if I’m also wearing a sweater. Heat doesn’t transfer that quickly from your head to your body if the temperature difference is that drastic.”
He shook his head. “Seriously, what is it like on your home planet of Vulcan? Just wear the beanie. Jesus!”
Hmph. I kept my mouth shut and let the beanie work its magic. And I couldn’t be sure if it was the beanie or the idea of wearing Luca’s beanie that kept me warm the entire ride back.
When we reached the pier, I looked for Wes, hoping that he hadn’t ditched me and left with some other girl, which wouldn’t be beyond the scope of normal Wes behavior.
“Desi!” Fiona was walking toward me with Leslie at her heels. “What happened? Wes is freaking out—” She stopped short when she noticed Luca.
“Oh, hey Wo—uh, Luca, right?” she asked. Smooth.
That face-punch smile slowly spread across his face. “Yeah, and you’re…?”
I stepped between them. “That’s Fiona and her girlfriend, Leslie.” Just call me Smooth Jr.
I spotted Wes then, carrying my jacket. “Wes!” I waved him over. His expression switched from worry to annoyance, but when he noticed Luca next to me, he smiled smugly. I could almost hear his self-satisfied voice saying Nice.
“You must have been so worried,” I said, throwing my arms around Wes’s neck. I whispered, “Play along or die.”
He wrapped his arms around me, too, almost crushing me. “So worried, babe.” A little bit of barf rose in my throat.
When we pulled apart, Luca was openly staring at us. Before I could plan my next move, some people from the coast guard approached Luca. “We’ve got a few questions for you, son. Your father will be arriving soon.”
“Whatever,” he muttered. He looked so dejected that I quickly moved away from Wes and walked toward him.
“Hey, do you want me to stay?”
“Des! Your dad said midnight, yo!” Wes yelled. Argh.
Luca looked over at Wes and his mouth formed a straight, unamused line. “Nah, it’s cool.” He forced a smile. “Thanks, though. And hey, see you after break.”
Oh no. I had completely forgotten that we had the next two weeks off for the holidays. That meant no Luca, no K drama steps time!
I tried to keep my face from looking crestfallen. “Oh yeah. Um, you, too. Bye,” I said lamely, feeling myself deflate at the anticlimactic ending to the night. I held up my hand for a wave, but Luca grabbed it midair.
He stepped in closer. My breath caught in my throat. He slowly lowered our hands, then dropped mine. “Sorry, just wanted to say something,” he said quietly.
“Hm? Do you want your beanie back?” I managed to squeak, reaching for it.
He shook his head and furrowed his brow again, eyebrows and lashes almost touching. “I just—be careful. That guy Wes seems sleazy as hell, dude.”
Hot and perceptive. Won Bin was proving to be worthy of his code name.
STEP 10:
Find Out the Guy’s Big Secret, Preferably through Excruciatingly Repetitive Flashbacks
Despite hating every day that passed without seeing Luca (and worrying about whether his dad really did kill him for the boat incident) and putting my K drama steps on hold, the holiday break passed by quickly in a blur of finishing up my college applications, a couple of snowboarding trips with Fiona and Wes, and K dramas with my dad.
The night before school started up again, I was watching another drama with my dad in the living room. A law-themed one that was basically a Dramaland version of Legally Blonde called Prosecutor Princess.
“Did Mom also like dramas?”
My dad dropped down from the pull-up bar in the dining room doorway. His Anaheim Ducks sweatshirt was soaking wet and his hair was pulled away from his face by a sweatband that was probably older than I was.
“Your mom?”
I nodded from my bundled-up position on the sofa, the drama paused on the TV. “Yeah, did she like them as much as you do?”
My dad stood with his hands on his hips. “No-o-o, ha-ha. Your mom, she was … snob.” He said snob slowly, as if testing it in his mouth. “Yeah, snob. Snobby about telebee. She only watched news or animal channel. Always make fun of Appa for Korean telebee.” Good ol’ telebee. “Just like you. But now you love them like Appa.”
I scoffed but couldn’t help but smile. It was true, I was a certified K drama–obsessed fanatic. I mean, my dad’s Christmas gifts to me this year were imported box sets of drama DVDs and sound tracks.
But something my dad had just said made me ask, “I’m a lot like Mom, right?”
My dad jumped back up and grabbed the pull-up bar. He lifted himself to the bar with a grunt. On his way down, he exhaled and said, “Yes, in all ways. Study hard, like Mom.” He lifted himself back up, and while his chin was hovering above the bar, he said, “Always have to be best, like Mom.” Another pull-up, then, “Impatient, like Mom.” He dropped down again, bending over to catch his breath. “Not romantic, like Mom.”
“What! What do you mean?”
He took a swig of water and sat down on the carpet by my feet. I pushed my foot into his back so that his festering sweatshirt didn’t touch the sofa. He heaved all his weight against my big toe and I finally gave in and let him collapse onto the sofa.
“What I mean is, you don’t like boys because too busy studying. Good. But, no good for Appa when he went to school with Mom.” My parents had been high school sweethearts in Korea—my mom the top of her class, my dad the tough punk with a heart of gold. He had followed her to the U.S. when she got into Stanford med school. They got marrie
d soon after and moved to Orange County when my mom started her residency in Irvine.
It was a real once-in-a-lifetime romance. Good girl falls for bad boy. They stayed together against all odds. It was only as I grew older and listened to my dad talk about her that I realized they had the real thing, what K dramas are constantly dreaming up. And that sort of thing doesn’t just disappear because one of you dies.
“Appa, it’s not that I’m not romantic. I’m just … focused on other things,” I lied through my teeth.
He hit my foot. “Ya, Miss Focus, what are you doing watching this? You have school tomorrow. Go to bed.”
“Fine, but don’t watch any more Prosecutor Princess without me!” I reluctantly went into my room and looked around. My bed was immaculately made—soft gray linen duvet cover accented by lavender pillows. A fluffy cream quilt folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Floor-to-ceiling shelves built by my dad were filled with books, trophies, photos, and awards. Everything arranged by color, size, and subject. My white lacquer desk sat under a window, completely cleared off except for a cup filled with mechanical pencils, highlighters, and red pens.
Everything just right. Yet. I pulled the list out from my wallet and looked at step 10: Find Out the Guy’s Big Secret, Preferably through Excruciatingly Repetitive Flashbacks. I knew he was an artist and he’d told me about his arrest. What I still couldn’t understand was why he didn’t want to date anyone. I plopped down on my bed and carefully wrote these notes down in the notebook.
Then I opened my laptop to do some good old-fashioned stalking. Even though I had already done it several times during break, I typed Luca Drakos girlfriend. But still, nothing. I just knew there had to be more to his story.
I went to his Facebook page. A page I had been to a billion times before. But this time I scrolled through all the photos he was tagged in, to find any signs of a girlfriend. I clicked through so many photos. So many. To the point where I felt a little sick at the amount of time I was spending, not to mention my horror at the idea of him somehow knowing that I was doing this, that the little spy that lived in my computer was reporting all of this to Luca at this very moment.
And then. There it was. Some two-year-old photo hidden deep in the far recesses of his photo album. It was him and a girl tangled up in each other’s laps, sitting on a blanket in a park or somewhere else with lots of grass. Luca’s face was absolutely glowing, and he wasn’t wearing a beanie.
And the girl … well, the girl looked like someone who should be Luca’s girlfriend. Someone who was every guy’s dream girlfriend. Effortlessly gorgeous—glowing light brown skin, Naomi Campbell bone structure, a wide, laughing mouth, and arched eyebrows paired with huge green eyes. Wearing cutoffs that showed enough lean muscle to make my legs feel like elephant trunks. A loose-fitting white tank with thin straps showing zero tan lines on sculpted yet delicate shoulders. An obscene amount of thick, wavy bleached-blond hair parted deeply to the side, pushed there so casually, so cool. She looked like California: a sunny mix of so many different beautiful things.
My stomach clenched. These were the girls who had boyfriends. Not girls with keratosis on their upper arms, or morning breath, or who spent an inordinate number of evenings watching K dramas with their dads, or … girls who at the age of seventeen still hadn’t had boyfriends.
I clicked on the name tagged in the photo: Emily Scout Fairchild. That name, unreal. It brought me to her profile—a veritable treasure trove of stalkery laid at my fingertips. But before I could click through her photos, I noticed her latest post.
Last breath of bOjai air before heading down south to tie up some loose ends … peace & love.
Down south?! Like, Orange County south? Also, didn’t she have school tomorrow? Did Ojai schools have a longer holiday break than us?? I scrolled down her profile page to see the occasional drawing posted—a lot of abstract stuff with shapes and colors and inspirational or cryptic sayings scribbled on top of them. Another artist, it appeared. I snorted. “Goody for you, Picasso.” She also seemed to post a lot of song lyrics or quotes from books by Old or Dead White Men. I’m so sure you love Bukowski and Leonard Cohen. I’m sure they, like, totally speak to you.
I flew through her profile. Not many photos of herself, just a few with friends. None of Luca except that one. Then my alarm popped up on-screen: Stanford application due in one hour!!! I had already submitted my application online days ago, but the official deadline reminder meant that it was already eleven and I had soccer conditioning in the morning. I flicked the photo of Luca and Emily with my finger before shutting my laptop.
Okay, stalking to reconvene tomorrow. I opened up the notebook and wrote down the plan for step 10, which began with calling Wes before I went to bed.
* * *
My phone was buzzing all morning. I had turned on notifications for all my social media updates so that I would catch Emily’s. Because I was now following her under rando anonymous accounts.
Yes, I know. In my defense …
I needed to follow through on step 10.
While shoveling my sugar-coated cereal into my mouth that morning, I saw that she had Instagrammed a photo of her date-smoothie breakfast. (Gee, could you be any more from Ojai?) During second period, an uninspired shot of the ocean as she drove through Santa Barbara. Then a photo of the traffic in LA with a thumbs-down emoji.
And now, while I was sitting in French, the phone buzzed with another update.
Facebook this time: Yum so glad to get my meatless In-N-Out fix in the OC. A photo of her about to bite into a burger accompanied it. What kind of monster gets a meatless burger from In-N-Out?
Also: The OC. She was here. I knew it! I knew that’s what her cryptic Facebook post from last night was about. Her end goal had to be Luca. If she saw Luca before I did … I didn’t know. It worried me. Would they get back together? Had they already gotten back together over the holiday break or something?
And I had no idea if I would see Luca today. It was already three periods into the first day back from break and I was beyond impatient to see him. It had been two weeks! That was years in Desi Lee time.
So when the bell rang, signaling the end of French and the beginning of lunch period, I bolted out of there and ran into the middle of the courtyard, hoping to find Luca. If I saw him first, then maybe I could remind him of the sparks we had on the boat. That is, if I hadn’t imagined them.
Suddenly there was another buzz on my phone. A selfie of Emily pretending to lick a Viking statue. I wrinkled my nose until I realized it was Monte Vista High School’s Viking statue. She was here. OMFG. I scanned the entire campus with a speed that almost made my neck snap. Where was Luca? He usually sat with the art kids during lunch, but he wasn’t at their usual spot.
Wait a second. Maybe he was in the art studio. I knew that a lot of the Art Club kids were spending lunch working on their pieces for the show. I texted Fiona: Skipping lunch today, have some Won Bin business.
An immediate response: Don’t make too many babies.
I tried to look casual walking toward the art studio. People waved and I waved back cheerfully. Nothing to see here, just some casual stalkery, folks!
And then I stopped—because I spotted her. With Luca. My heart lurched at seeing them together, even if they were walking pretty far apart from each other.
Do the right thing and leave them alone or … be sneaky and nosy? My head spun with visions of all the various sassy K drama heroines until it stilled on Bong-Sun from Oh My Ghostess spying on the hot chef as he talked to a drunk college friend. Always be sneaky.
But how? I couldn’t hear them from this distance. I darted behind a row of (lovely) floss-silk trees in bloom, getting a teeny bit closer, and strained to hear them. Still nothing. Then I saw that they were heading to the art studio.
I dashed toward the classroom ahead of them, ran inside the supply closet practically holding my breath, and bumped into someone. My heart leaped into my throat.
“Excuse
me.” The world’s most obnoxious voice.
And there was Violet, brushing up alongside me, reaching for a jar of paintbrushes high above my head, as if rubbing in her height. Ugh! Why was she in here? Of all the freaking people …
I moved aside to avoid her bumping into me. “Shh,” I hissed.
I could tell she was about to spill some serious bile over that, but she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps heading to the closet.
We both peered around one of the shelves and found ourselves looking directly at Luca and Emily. We immediately ducked back so we were hidden from view.
Emily. She of the doll-like features, killer hair, and wedgie-inducing cutoffs.
And she was standing awfully close to Luca. “Why’d you drag me into this dark little corner?” she teased, her voice low and a bit husky, like a young Lauren Bacall.
Luca closed the curtain behind them. “In case someone comes into the studio. I don’t want to air our dirty laundry out there,” he whispered. “So why are you here after months of silence and acting like—”
“Like what?” she said with a little head tilt.
He made a disgusted noise. “Like you didn’t completely screw me over! Letting me get arrested for your tags.”
Holy crap!
Emily wrapped her arms around him, and he let her. Gah! She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder and said, ever so quietly, “I had to. I’m eighteen. If I got arrested it would be on my permanent record. You’re still a minor; it’s not that big of a deal!”
Luca pulled back so abruptly that she almost stumbled. “Not that big of a deal?!” he shouted. “Do you have any clue what I went through? What I’m still going through? My mom had to grovel to my dad to get him to pay for a lawyer. And because of that, I had to move here to be with him. He’s been watching my every move since I’ve been here, by the way. I got in huge trouble recently for this boat thing … Never mind. Anyway, because of the arrest, I’m on probation for the next three years.”