by Leigh Ban
My dance movements were atrocious since I was distracted by a whirlwind of emotions. I was particularly awful at doing different kinds of turns while holding his hand. This was something I struggled with during my previous classes as well. Professor Hwang got grouchy because I stepped on her toes.
“Oh no, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I said to Taehyun the first time.
He calmly replied, “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
As I kept getting the direction of the turns mixed up and repeatedly treaded on his foot, I ended up sounding like a parrot with my apologies while the music continued to play. I gradually began to improve as the class went on, then almost fell on the ground. My foot slipped and I let out a small gasp when I lost balance, but seconds later, Taehyun caught me in his arms.
“Thanks,” I said, panting while his arms were wrapped around me.
He simply flashed me a smile. I felt weak in the knees.
At the end, while everyone was putting on their shoes, Professor Hwang said, “In this class, I care about effort more than skill or talent. That’s how I’m going to grade you all. I’d like everyone to meet up with their partners and practice together before the midterm next week. We’ll meet in New College Hall for the performance. Could the girls please come in a skirt or a dress? Except not a tight miniskirt. The fabric should move with you as you dance.”
Taehyun immediately turned to me and asked, “When are you free this weekend? Do you have time on Sunday?”
“Sure,” I replied.
I was suddenly reminded of how I’d turned down Dana’s invitation to go out and celebrate the end of midterms on Saturday night. Although I sensed she was upset by my rejection, I wanted to stay in bed and wallow in misery for the entire weekend.
“How does four o’clock sound?” Taehyun asked.
“Sounds good,” I said.
“I’ll reserve one of the rehearsal rooms in Sul Student Center. See you at four o’clock on Sunday then?” Taehyun said, then grinned. “Should we exchange numbers?”
While I added my number to his contacts, the day we first met popped into my mind. He had given me such a warm smile when we found out we were going to be dance partners this semester. I wondered how he felt about being my partner again.
As Taehyun handed me my phone, he said, “Oh, there’s your boyfriend.”
“My boyfriend?”
My heart stopped for a second. I slowly turned my head. Hongsik was walking toward me. After I stared at Hongsik, then back at Taehyun, I let out a nervous laugh.
“Taehyun, you’ve got the wrong idea. Hongsik is not my boyfriend. I’ve never had anything to do with him. I don’t know why he—”
Hongsik tugged my arm and called out, “Stella!”
Once Taehyun saw me grimace, he glared at Hongsik.
“Excuse me,” Taehyun said, grabbing Hongsik’s other arm. “Why are you pulling her? She doesn’t like it.”
“None of your business,” Hongsik replied in a trembling voice.
“Seriously, leave her alone. Does this feel good to you?” Taehyun said and yanked Hongsik’s arm.
Hongsik let go of me after he flinched and yelled out in pain. As he shuffled away, mumbling about a staircase, he didn’t dare look back.
“Thank you,” I said to Taehyun. “I wish I could’ve just told him to get lost at the start of the semester.”
Chapter Nine
Even though Dana went out on Friday night and returned to our room around dawn, as soon as she came back from dinner at the dorm cafeteria on Saturday, she started rummaging through her closet. While she played some Korean hip-hop songs and sang along to the chorus, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. At first, I remembered how Taehyun put his arms around me during Latin Dance. Although I stood on his foot more times than I could count, he continued to be a gracious dance partner, assuring me I was doing fine with those dark and serious eyes. Suddenly, I was reminded of when Phil told me he loved me. My eyes began to water.
“Which one should I wear?” Dana yelled out.
I sat up and looked across the room. She was holding up a yellow lace blouse and a black mesh top. I pointed at the yellow blouse.
“Fair enough. Is the black one a bit too risqué? Yumi inspired the purchase. I haven’t worn it out yet. To be honest, I can’t be bothered to get ready. By the way, are you sure you don’t want to go out today? You should celebrate the end of midterm week with me,” Dana asked.
As I trudged over to Dana, I was surprised to see big puffy bags under her eyes.
She added, “Do you need more time alone?”
I nodded, though I knew being alone would exacerbate my agony as the night went on. As Dana yawned, I wondered if she would prefer a low-key celebration in our dorm room. We could order pizza or fried chicken. Although I usually enjoyed sharing greasy delivery food with Dana, I wasn’t ready to tell her exactly what happened with Phil and confront my feelings. I was embarrassed about having sent him such long and emotional messages, particularly as he hadn’t even replied.
Several hours later, Phil was on my mind when my phone rang. When his name appeared on the screen, I thought I was dreaming. I didn’t pick up, not because I intended to ignore him, but because I was too stunned to react.
Once he called again, I picked up. “Phil?”
He replied, sniffling, “Stella, baby, I’m outside.”
“Hello? Phil? What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m at your university. Stella, I’m standing outside your dorm. Please come out. I’ll be waiting here.”
“Are you really outside? What’s going on?” I said, alarmed by the unexpected turn of events.
“Stella, I need you. Please, I want to see you,” Phil croaked.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Despite the emotional distress he’d put me through, I couldn’t refuse to see him when his voice was full of desperation. After looking in the mirror, I smoothed my short hair, spritzed myself with vanilla-scented body spray, and dashed out the door. Standing inside the elevator, I told myself I would make Phil explain himself, then decide whether I could believe him or not. As I took deep breaths, I realized I wasn’t prepared for whatever was about to happen.
Phil stood outside, leaning against a lamppost. As soon as he saw me, he stomped out a cigarette. His face was flushed red and his hair was a mess, but he was so annoyingly gorgeous in a black suit.
I scowled at him and hissed, “What are you doing here? Have you been smoking?”
“Stella, I… I had to see you…” Phil said as he handed me a dried-flower bouquet.
“Are you going to share what’s been going on? Why are you giving me this?”
“Because I love you.”
“Phil,” I said, my hands quivering, “I was absolutely humiliated when you stood me up. I didn’t know what to tell my friends. You made me feel awful after you disappeared without a word. I could hardly focus on my midterms because I was fuming. You don’t know how miserable I felt. Even though I wanted to hate you, I kept worrying about you.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Phil pulled me toward him and broke down in tears. Hearing his deep sobs made my heart ache. For a minute, I chose to ignore what he put me through and clung to him.
Once he stopped crying, I asked him, “Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Why didn’t you respond to any of my messages?”
“Stella, I’m so sorry, but I’m not ready to explain right now. Please let me hold you.”
I knew I should’ve pushed away and told him to leave. He turned up without notice and he wasn’t willing to tell me what was happening, yet I couldn’t bear to let him go. When he kissed me, he tasted of cigarettes and soju, but I didn’t mind. My body craved his touch.
“Come on,” I said as I held his hand and brought him inside.
Like every other dorm at West Seoul University, International House had specific regulations on visitation hours, and guests were prohibited from entering resi
dents’ rooms. However, these rules were not strictly enforced; nobody monitored who was coming in and out of the building. I took Phil to my room without causing trouble.
Once I closed the door, he kissed me again. I felt intoxicated by the smell of alcohol on his breath. As his tongue entered my mouth, he unbuttoned the long pajama shirt I wore as a dress and it fell to the floor.
“Let me have a look at you. I missed you a lot,” Phil said as he glanced down at my bare breasts.
After we made our way to my bed, he rolled on top of me. He sucked and tugged at my earlobe. As his breath tickled my skin, I let him run his hand down my body and pull off my underwear.
“Stella,” Phil whispered into my ear, “I’m addicted to your scent. You always smell incredible.”
While I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, he threw off his suit jacket and took off his shirt. Once I saw his smooth, toned body, my hands reached up to touch his abs.
Phil whispered, “Do you like what you see?”
The door flung open. His face froze.
“Stella?”
Dana stared at me with her mouth agape. Then she glanced over at Phil for a second before turning away.
I covered myself with my hands and scrambled around to find my underwear. “Dana, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to come back this early.”
Phil didn’t say a word as he buttoned up his shirt and put on his jacket. After I got dressed, I motioned at him to leave the room with me.
“I’m really sorry,” I told Dana before walking out.
While Phil and I went down the elevator, we didn’t say anything to each other. He peered down at his shoes the entire time and refused to make eye contact.
As we got out of the elevator, he said, “I have to go.”
“Okay,” I replied.
“Hang on, Stella. I think I left my phone in your room. It must’ve fell out of my pocket.”
After I took him over to the convenience store, I told him to wait. When I went back to my dorm room, Dana seemed to be in the bathroom as I could hear the shower running. The dried-flower bouquet Phil had given me was on the floor. When I picked it up, I realized the flowers were all purple roses. I put the bouquet on my desk and hurried around trying to find Phil’s phone. Eventually, I found the phone wedged between the mattress and the wall. Just as I left, I heard Dana open the bathroom door, humming.
Once I arrived at the convenience store, I saw Phil surrounded by a couple of girls who were in tiny faux-leather dresses. He had an alarmed look in his eyes as the girls began talking to him.
One of the girls asked Phil, “Excuse me, are you the model Phil Oh?”
“Of course he is,” said another girl. Then she turned to him. “You’re one of my favorite male models. I follow every social media account you have. Please post more pictures.”
Phil replied, “Yup, that’s me. Thank you.”
A third girl inquired, “What brings you here? Can I… I mean, can we take a photo with you?”
“Um, okay,” Phil said as he ran his fingers through his hair.
As he hadn’t seen me yet, I wondered if I was supposed to step in and offer to take their group photo. I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself to them, so I held back. Was I supposed to tell them Phil was my boyfriend or just a friend?
“I’ll take the photo. I look crap today,” a girl called out as she walked over holding an unopened packet of tissues.
The girl put the tissues in her chain-strap purse and took her friend’s phone. As the other girls stood next to Phil, putting him in the middle, he smiled hesitantly. I was surprised by how many pictures were taken. While the girls alternated between grinning cheerfully and trying to look seductive, Phil just stood there.
They yelled in unison, “Thank you so much!”
“No problem,” Phil said with a nod.
One of the girls asked, “Why are you in a suit, by the way?”
“I’m coming from an event,” Phil claimed, although the girls scurried away without listening to him.
When Phil and I finally made eye contact, he stared at me blankly. I didn’t say anything to him as I handed him his phone. Once we were outside, we stood in silence. I could tell Phil wanted to leave when he checked the time on his phone and sighed. Then I realized he was waiting for me to speak up first. He clearly wanted me to tell him to go. A wave of irritation washed over me.
“Phil, do you think you’re too big of a star already?” I snapped at him. “Is that the problem? Or is there something going on with your ex-girlfriend?”
He turned to me with pain in his eyes, like I’d lunged at him with a knife. As he opened his mouth, I anticipated an explanation. Instead, he shook his head and left without uttering a word.
The next day, I woke up feeling like my encounter with Phil had been a dream. Deep down, I knew he wouldn’t reach out to me again and told myself to stop messaging him. I saw the flowers from him on my desk. For the longest time, I sat in bed, looking over at the bouquet. These were petals that wouldn’t fall off, dried roses that I could continue to keep. Before I got ready to go out, I shoved the flowers into the back of my tiny closet. I couldn’t bear to look at the purple roses, yet I wasn’t ready to throw the bouquet away.
After I showered, I took out a floral sundress Grandma had picked out for me during our shopping spree. As I hadn’t worn it out before and the temperature seemed to be warm enough now, I decided to try it on. Once I looked in the mirror, I suddenly felt embarrassed about wearing a dress to see Taehyun since I usually turned up to class looking more casual. Would he think I was trying too hard to impress him?
In the end, I picked up a pair of jeans off the floor. I’d already worn the jeans several times this week, so they were a little stretched out and molded to the shape of my body. When I put the jeans on, a small pink envelope dropped out of the back pocket. I didn’t remember putting anything in there, so I decided to check what it was. Once I opened the envelope, I took out a heart-shaped card with the words “Be Mine” printed on it. Inside the card, a short poem was written out in English.
I read to myself, “My love is a fever, longing still… for that which longer nurseth the disease… feeding on that which doth preserve the ill…”
I wondered where the poem was originally from, seeing as nobody used words like “nurseth” or “doth” anymore. There were also no names on the card. I wasn’t sure who had written it, but I presumed there must’ve been a mistake. While I had been feeling groggy and dejected, I snickered at the absurdity of the situation. Somebody was probably panicking about losing their secret love letter.
Since I was alone in my dorm room, I took a photo of the card to send to Dana. I stopped when I remembered the awkward situation we were in after she walked in on me with Phil. Thinking about what happened made me feel awful again, so I distracted myself by using my phone to search the first line of the letter and discovered the poem was Sonnet 147 by William Shakespeare.
While I styled my bob and prepared to go out, I thought about the possibility of the card having been written for me. Although Phil immediately came to mind, he didn’t seem like the type of person who would write out a sonnet. He probably didn’t even know Shakespeare wrote poetry. I tossed the card and envelope into my desk drawer, then hurried out to go to the rehearsal rooms for dance practice.
As I rushed across campus, I went past a crowded smoking area next to some vending machines. A group of guys in baggy sweatshirts was chatting over canned coffee and cigarettes.
“Stella!”
I stopped in my tracks and realized one of the guys was Joon. He waved at me while holding a cigarette in his other hand.
When I walked over, he said, “What’s up?”
“Hi, Joon. I’ve got dance practice for one of my classes.”
“On a Sunday? Man, that sucks,” Joon replied as he flicked his cigarette butt onto the asphalt.
“Oh, it’s not too bad. I’m just casually meeting with my dance partn
er. What about you?”
“I’m hanging out with my crew.”
“Your crew?”
“Yup, my rap crew.” Joon nodded. “Hey, Stella, how’s Dana doing? When does she finish her midterms? She hasn’t really been responding to my messages.”
I was surprised by what Joon shared and hesitated over how much I should disclose. Since Dana had celebrated the end of midterm week by going out on both Friday and Saturday, I had assumed she was spending time with him.
I simply said, “Really?”
“Yeah, she’s not even read my last messages. I guess she’s busy with exams and stuff, right? We should all hang out together again. You and Yumi too.”
“Sounds great,” I replied.
When I arrived at exactly four o’clock, Taehyun was standing outside Sul Student Center and led me inside. He’d arrived early and already set up the room, pushing the chairs aside and setting up the speakers.
“We have this place booked until six o’clock. Two hours is probably more than what we need, so we could rehearse and leave when we feel prepared enough for the performance,” Taehyun explained.
When we danced, my body felt sluggish and clumsy. I was unable to focus, perhaps because I felt drained after the emotional rollercoaster I’d been through. Although I knew my movements were far too slow, I was trying to avoid treading on Taehyun’s feet again.
“I think our spot turn is out of time,” Taehyun pointed out after we went through the routine for the first time.
“I know. I kept messing up. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no need to apologize.” Taehyun smiled at me. “Should we try to practice doing spot turns with the music playing?”
I nodded. “Good idea. I need as much practice as I can get.”
We dedicated the next fifteen minutes to practicing our spot turns. Anyone else in my position would’ve been able to improve, but I continued to make the same awkward mistakes since I was hardly present.
“Is the music not loud enough? Should I turn it up?” Taehyun asked.
“No, I can hear the music. The problem is I can’t concentrate,” I admitted.
