by Leigh Ban
After we hopped on the elevator, Christy closed her eyes and emitted a shrill cry. “Oh, Dana, I could dedicate the rest of the evening to telling you how much I love Sun. Every guy I see in real life pales in comparison to him. To be honest, if I actually met him face to face, I’d probably pass out.”
When I heard the excitement in Christy’s words, I knew hiding a relationship with Gusun would be far too challenging. I would be reminded of how much she adored him on a regular basis for as long as she remained my suitemate. Furthermore, I didn’t dare tell her he and I had been working together—I wasn’t prepared to deal with her reaction. I was just relieved she didn’t know anyone else taking Creative Music Projects. She didn’t seem interested in finding out what I had to do for the course either.
Once we got out of the elevator, she grabbed my wrist. “Couldn’t you muster up the courage to tell Sun your friend is a huge fan? What if I gave you a bunch of fan letters to deliver to him?”
“Come on, Christy. I don’t think our professor would let that slide if he found out.”
She rolled her eyes. “How on Earth would your professor find out?”
“Because I’m sure Gusun would tell Professor Kwon I’ve been bothering him. Christy, he’s attending class to learn, not to connect with fans. I doubt he’d want to be bombarded with fan letters out of the blue, especially by a classmate.”
“You don’t know that,” she said with a pout.
When we entered the dorm cafeteria, we went over to the self-service order machines to purchase the meal tickets. The two options for tonight were chicken curry and spaghetti Bolognese. Both Christy and I ordered the spaghetti, since it was one of the few dishes the dorm cooks never screwed up. Then we went over to the queue to grab our food. While we waited in line, Christy kept looking at me, but she didn’t say a word. Although I wasn’t hungry, the savory aroma of garlic, onion, and tomato triggered my appetite. We received our bowls of spaghetti and stepped away from the serving area.
I glanced over at the nearest table and asked, “Should we sit over there?”
She pointed to a long table in the far corner of the cafeteria. “No, let’s go over to those tables.”
“Alright.”
After Christy and I put our trays down, a group of guys came over and left their belongings on the empty seats. She glared at them as they hurried over to the line for the food.
Once we sat down, she said, “Do you know what your problem is? You need to put yourself out there and be more proactive.”
I swirled a fork through my spaghetti. “What do you mean?”
“Dana, you’re always clinging to the same group of friends. Seeing as you’re an extrovert, you could easily try putting yourself out there.”
“Do you really think I’m the one who needs to put myself out there and be more proactive?” I wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or entertained. “Or are you telling me this because I don’t want to go up to your favorite celebrity to ask for his phone number or give him a bunch of fan letters? I told you, I don’t want to bother him when we’re in class.”
Christy shrugged. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I can’t help being observant.”
Seeing as I was the one who’d initiated our friendship, I was tempted to tell her she might as well follow her own advice. However, since I didn’t want her to get riled up and interrogate me, I simply put on a weak smile.
She gave me a smug glance. “To be frank, you care too much about what your friends think. Don’t deny this. I’ve heard you talking to Stella loads of times. You try to act like you’re confident when I can clearly see that you’re actually helpless without the support of your friends. No offense, Dana, but you should live for yourself.”
While I ate my spaghetti in silence, I thought about my phone call with Gusun. He liked me. I liked him. What was the problem then? After listening to Christy, I found myself agreeing with what she said. At least the part about living for myself. I didn’t need to worry about Christy’s feelings as if I owed her happiness. Besides, I was pretty good at keeping secrets. Although I’d have to keep her at arm’s length, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
“Are you going to admit that I’m right?” Christy said, chewing with her mouth open.
Chapter Seven
During class on Thursday, Gusun and I were stumped about what to do. I’d purchased a domain name, signed up for web hosting, and gotten started with setting up our website on Tuesday night, so we didn’t have to go over to a computer lab. Plus, we knew what our next step was. On Friday, we were going to visit a nineties-themed live music bar where we were planning to interview a former record producer. I haphazardly flipped through my notebook and scanned through the questions we’d prepared for the interview.
Gusun turned to me and asked, “Do you want to go over to one of the rehearsal rooms at the student center? Some of the rooms have keyboards, right?”
“Why? Are you going to play a sonata for me?” I joked.
“Maybe,” he said with a chuckle.
“So you know how to play the piano? I took piano lessons for three years in elementary school, but I was awful. It was my fault though. I was too lazy to practice. The only song I remember how to play is ‘Chopsticks.’”
“Was that the first song you learned?”
“I think so. It was either ‘Chopsticks’ or ‘Do Re Mi.’” I giggled. “How long have you been playing the piano?”
“Well, I started when I was three.”
“When you were three? Wow.”
“My mom’s a pianist. She was the one that taught me. Before I begged my parents to let me learn composition in middle school, I spent most of my childhood preparing for junior piano competitions. There were two grand pianos in our house, one in the living room and one in my practice room. I only played on the one in the living room a handful of times, but I spent a couple of hours a day rehearsing on the piano in my practice room.”
“Wow. You must be somewhat of a piano virtuoso.”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking of playing Chopin to you though. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He gave me a wicked grin. “We can tell Professor Kwon we’re going to a computer lab to work on our website.”
Gusun and I packed our bags and told Professor Kwon we would be going to the computer lab to work on our website. As we made our way over to the student center, I was bursting with curiosity. Gusun was full of surprises; there were so many layers to him underneath his mysterious, guarded demeanor.
Once we were in front of the rehearsal rooms, Gusun knocked on the first door he saw. Nobody came to the door. There was a loud trumpet blasting away, so we couldn’t exactly tell if anyone had responded.
“Should we go in?” I asked, putting my ear on the door to check if someone was playing the trumpet inside.
I opened the door. Two guys with bandanas around their heads had been practicing a street dance routine. While a hip-hop soundtrack played in the background, they stared at me as though I was dressed in a gory Halloween costume.
“We… We’ve booked the room until twelve. We still have ten minutes left,” one of the guys stammered, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Of course. My bad. I’m sorry!” I called out and shut the door.
Gusun asked, “Do we have to book the rooms to use them?”
“It seems like it. But I don’t know if the rules are strictly enforced. I’ve never had to use any of the rehearsal rooms.”
“Ah, I see. I came here once as a freshman, but I don’t recall having to book the rooms beforehand. There must be a couple of spare rooms though.”
While the sound of the trumpet continued to fill the corridors, I pointed to the adjacent door. “Want to open the next door?”
Although I was just teasing him, he went over and swung the door open without hesitation. Once he stepped inside, I followed suit.
“There’s a keyboard here,” he said, beaming.
&n
bsp; “Fabulous!” I exclaimed in Professor Kwon’s voice.
Gusun sat down by the keyboard, turned it on, and lowered the volume. When he started playing a slow melody, I closed the door, which was enough to shut out the loud trumpet noise. Before I went over to him, I examined the bare walls and the dingy ceiling. The trumpet must’ve been coming from elsewhere since the rehearsal room appeared to be fully soundproof.
“What’s the name of the song?” I asked as I perched beside him on the wide piano stool.
He stopped playing and shuffled his body to give me more space. “I haven’t decided.”
“It’s your song?”
“It’s my song-in-progress,” he replied, then played the beginning of the tune again.
I nodded. “Oh, I see. Is this the song you’ve been working on lately?”
Although I knew nothing about the process of making music, the situation was nevertheless exciting. As he continued to play the keyboard, I let my thoughts get ahead of me. I pictured myself holding a hot cappuccino at Crazy Cozy Café, watching crowds of people move through the leafy autumn streets while the song played on the café’s sound system. Perhaps a group of women sitting at a nearby table would turn to each other and comment on how much they loved Undone’s new hit.
“Are you allowed to let people hear your song in the early stages?” I asked.
He smiled. “You’re not recording me, are you?”
“Of course not. I didn’t expect you to share what you’ve been preparing.”
“Don’t worry. The other members aren’t going to be mad at me. Do you remember how I told you I’ve been staying up late to write lyrics? The truth is, I’ve been working on my first solo single. It’s been a somewhat therapeutic process, not having to check whether everyone else is on board with my vision.”
I pictured him hunched in front of a piano late at night, scribbling down lyrics. Although I knew he would’ve been sitting in an air-conditioned room, I liked to imagine him wiping beads of sweat from his forehead as he wrote furiously. Once in a while, he’d stop for a sip of black coffee.
He gazed into my eyes, making my heart flutter wildly. “My only concern is that this song might not be what people expect from me because it’s not as upbeat as Undone’s usual stuff. Mind you, I don’t expect my single to be a commercial success. I just hope my songs find their way to the right listeners, the people who are willing to give it a chance.”
When he played the melody again, he sang along. “But what did he give, what did he pay with, the man in the mirror, the cut glass bowl.”
Although I’d previously heard his part in a couple of Undone’s most famous songs, I was astonished to hear him sing in front of me. His soft, husky voice was truly unique. I was reminded of how fervently Christy had praised Undone’s live performances. If the rest of the members sounded half as amazing as Gusun, I couldn’t imagine who wouldn’t be blown away after attending their concert.
“What do you think?” he asked. “After hearing myself again, I’m not so sure about the way the chorus flows.”
“First off, I like the chorus. Is the cut glass bowl a reference to the F. Scott Fitzgerald short story? I remember studying it in high school.” I smiled at him. There was no way I could go on denying how he made me feel with his soul-stirring voice and wistful eyes.
“Yup. I received his short story anthology from a fan. What’s your second point then?”
“So far, you’ve only worked on the song on your own, right? You haven’t finalized the lyrics yet, have you? Well, I hope you don’t change the lyrics too much, because I love it as it is. Gusun, you’re going to melt everybody’s heart once the song comes out.”
As he nodded, I noticed his ears had flushed red.
I added, “I didn’t expect such heartfelt lyrics. When I heard the melody at first, I assumed the song would be about falling in or out of love. I think the way you’ve addressed the issue of sacrificing one’s youth is brilliant. The critics are going to love it.”
“Oh, I’m not brilliant. Dana, you’ve been my biggest source of inspiration recently,” he murmured in a deep, sexy voice.
I couldn’t look at him straight. “Lastly, you’re a spectacular singer. Why weren’t you a choir kid growing up?”
“When I was a child, I was too self-conscious to sing in front of anyone. I hated how gravely my voice was, at least for a child.”
“Well, I bet everybody who’s ever listened to you live has been full of praise because you sound remarkable. My only gripe with your song is how the tune of the chorus is going to linger in my mind forever.”
When I hummed the melody of the chorus to him, he laughed and put his arm around me. My stomach flip-flopped the moment I felt the weight of his arm on my bare shoulder. However, I soon found myself leaning into his chest. For a minute, we sat in silence. I could even hear his heartbeat through the cotton fabric of his shirt. The warm, mellow scent of his cologne tickled my nose. Once he hummed a part of the chorus back to me, I turned and grinned at him. We’d established our own secret code without uttering a word.
After class on Friday, I had my first date with Gusun. Although we were just visiting Carrot, a live music bar in Cheongdam, to conduct an interview for our project, I was thrilled to finally spend time with him off campus. Gusun offered to drive us there in his car as soon as class ended. In my mind, we were simply going on an unofficial first date with a mission to complete. Despite my hatred for early mornings, I made sure I had over two hours to get ready. I wore a sleeveless white blouse with a yellow wrap skirt and took forever to pick out my jewelry. In the end, I opted for a pair of hoop earrings and a stack of gold rings. While I did have to lug around my trusty tote bag filled with stationery instead of a dainty purse, when I left International House, I felt sexy.
Gusun and I exchanged glances as soon as I stepped into the classroom. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. His seductive smile was worth a thousand compliments. He wore a black T-shirt with black jeans, as per usual. Ever since Christy fawned over how great he’d looked in a water park ad, I began to wonder if he was hiding washboard abs underneath his baggy clothes. After all, he had such square shoulders and well-defined arms.
Once class ended and we were on our way to the campus parking lot, he leaned over and whispered, “What have you done to me, Dana? I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
Though we weren’t even touching, the corners of my mouth curved up and my legs felt weak.
“This is my car,” Gusun said, stopping in front of a navy Porsche.
After we got in, I looked around at the sleek interior. “Nice car.”
Up to that point, I hadn’t really grasped how different his life was compared to that of an ordinary college student like me. Although he must’ve attended plenty of black-tie events and stayed at the finest luxury hotels, he’d never elaborated on the glamorous side of his life to me. I knew he purposely dressed down in understated T-shirt-and-jeans ensembles to look inconspicuous. Also, I’d gotten so used to seeing him in a classroom setting. When he reached into his canvas backpack to pull out a ballpoint pen, he just looked like a cute campus heartthrob.
“Do you drive a lot?” I asked.
He started the engine. “Not really. I’m still not used to driving myself around. I didn’t get my license until last year, which was when I got this car. Rest assured, my driving skills are great. I got a perfect score on my practical test.”
“You did not.” I laughed. “Are you telling me you didn’t make a single mistake?”
“Yeah, I really didn’t. Plus, it was during my first try. Dana, I’m good enough to be the president’s chauffeur. Or at least his backup guy. What I’m trying to say is, you’re safe with me. I’ll bring you back to your dorm later.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to drive all the way to campus again.”
“I want to,” he said.
Once we left the parking lot and hit the road, I thought of how strange it was for me
, of all people, to be sitting inside a sports car. Ordinarily, I was a bus-and-subway kind of girl. To me, even the most standard orange taxis were a luxury—whenever I was stuck in traffic, my heart rate sped up from looking at the meter.
“Have you ever listened to Korean nineties music?” Gusun asked.
“No, I haven’t. You see, I went to elementary school and middle school here, but I was born in Houston, so I wasn’t exposed to Korean pop culture for the first six years of my life.”
He glanced at me while we stopped at a red light. “Houston? What’s it like there? I’ve never been to the American South, though I’d love to go.”
“Hot and humid. Sure, the summers here can be quite brutal too. However, Houston stays hot and humid for way longer. When I’m in Houston, I wear shorts in January. There isn’t much of a winter. Several days after I arrived in Seoul as a child, I caught a terrible flu because I got too excited about playing in the snow. I hadn’t been prepared for the freezing cold. But I appreciate the opportunity to experience four unique seasons in Seoul. It’s one of the reasons why I decided to attend college here.”
“Are you telling me you’re here for the snowball fights? Don’t plenty of places in America have four seasons too? By the way, you must’ve looked so precious when you saw snow for the first time.”
“Oh, yeah. My Korean grandparents, my maternal grandparents, thought my reaction was the cutest thing ever. I made snow angels and told them, ‘This is the best day of my life! I’m never going back to Texas.’ In all honesty though, I love Houston. I miss the city more than I expected to. Houston has a lively culture with great museums and a rich art scene. I just feel at home in Houston. There’s a lot of diversity, and the food, especially Tex-Mex, is insanely delicious.”
“What’s Tex-Mex?” he asked, his eyes on the road.
My stomach growled softly. “Tex-Mex is a fusion of Mexican and American cuisine. It originated from border states like Texas. Tons of gooey cheese, meat, and refried beans. Nachos are reputedly a Tex-Mex invention. My favorite kinds are the ones loaded with melted cheese and seasoned beef, which Mawmaw makes.”
