by Leigh Ban
We proceeded to order blueberry pancakes, waffles with ice cream, smoked salmon and avocado on toast, as well as a black coffee for Yumi and a cappuccino for me.
“I’m glad you’ve found your dream job,” I said. “Not to be a preachy auntie, but you know what you want to do with your life now. You have a goal to work toward.”
She shrugged. “I guess it depends on the definition of a dream job. Did I aspire to have a stable, high-paying career in finance ever since I was a kid? No way. I wasn’t born clad in a pantsuit. When I was a little girl, I just really wanted to be a fairy princess.”
I stared at her, incredulous. “You’re kidding me. You, of all people, wanted to be a fairy princess? Was I wrong to assume you must’ve been a nonconformist kid who dressed up as Maleficent for Halloween?”
“Maleficent? As in the evil fairy from Sleeping Beauty? Because she wears a black cloak? You’ve got it all wrong. I wanted to be a cute fairy like Tinkerbell. I desperately hoped to shrink, not grow, so I could befriend the butterflies and bumblebees. Believe it or not, I was a massive girly-girl growing up. I’ve always been a snide brat, but five-year-old me was a snide brat with dainty little fairy wings.”
I burst into laughter. “I take back what I said about you marrying a younger guy when you turn forty. Yumi, you’re destined to get hitched to whoever manages to reignite your appreciation for magical fairy-tales.”
“Dana, nowadays my idea of a magical fairy-tale is to have a stable job which pays enough for me to afford lavish vacations, preferably while not having to work overtime on a daily basis. If I had a job with these conditions, heck, I’d be willing to marry my career.”
Our beverages were served with our blueberry pancakes and our smoked salmon and avocado on toast. Since Yumi and I were eager to eat, we dug into our food without waiting for the waffles with ice cream.
“These pancakes are the best,” Yumi declared after she swallowed her first bite. “We should’ve ordered three plates of pancakes. I know I’m scoffing my food like I haven’t eaten properly lately. Sadly, I’m practically forced to have a spicy stew for lunch every weekday. The older employees on my team insist on taking me to the same eateries. I used to like pork bone soup, but I can’t stand the smell anymore. Those miserable squares act like they’re deathly allergic to seeking variety.”
“Speaking of variety, if you turn into a workaholic, you might end up dating someone from your office one day. I mean, seeing as that’ll be the only place you spend your waking hours.”
Yumi shuddered. “Gross. Never. I’d much rather prefer to be a workaholic spinster if the only alternative is to date someone from work. In fact, I refuse to date anyone who works in my field.”
“None of the other interns caught your eye?” I teased.
“Funny you say that,” she said, raising her eyebrow.
I laughed. “What? Do you have a crush on a fellow intern? What’s his name?”
Before Yumi had the chance to reply, the server came to our table. “Here is your waffles with ice cream. Enjoy your meal, ladies.”
“Thank you,” Yumi quickly replied, then looked into my eyes. “Correction, there’s an annoying intern who’s obviously into me, but I have no interest in seeing him outside of work. Even though we’re both clueless interns, he acts like he’s got to take care of me because he’s two years older than me. Two or three days ago, I was briefly scolded by an older employee for a mistake I made with a file I sent. I apologized and learned from my mistake. No big deal. The other intern must’ve overheard. He came to my desk and handed me a can of soda with a cheesy message taped on it. Something about how our mistakes are stepping stones to a greater future.”
“He was being nice to you. You’re not obligated to give him a chance, but I think he means well,” I said before taking a large bite of my waffle.
“Dana, you don’t understand. He constantly acts like he’s supposed to be my fairy godmother when my mistakes are none of his business. We’re not even on the same team. A couple of days prior to the soda incident, I made myself a second cup of coffee in the morning because I was feeling groggy. When I finished drinking, he came over to me and said, ‘Why don’t we give your heart a break and refrain from having a third cup?’ I was so dumbfounded I couldn’t think of a comeback. Why did he tell me what to do? I didn’t even plan on having more coffee. He thinks I’m helpless without his interference. As if I’d ever confine myself to the role of a damsel in distress. I can’t stand him. Doesn’t he sound so nosy and patronizing?”
I nodded, chewing on my food.
She added, “Enough about me. I don’t want to get pissed off on a glorious Sunday. Who have you been spending time with lately? Have you found a new best friend in your summer classes? Is it a guy?”
I gave her a closed-mouth grin and shrugged. Although Gusun was on my mind and I was itching to tell Yumi how I had fallen in love, I didn’t know what to say to her. Gusun and I hadn’t discussed whether we could tell our closest friends about our relationship.
Yumi gave me a funny look. “You’re not dating someone from your classes, are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I said coyly.
“I trust that if you have updates on your love life, you’d be way too excited to hold back from sharing,” she replied.
Once we finished eating, I sluggishly got up from my seat, feeling twenty pounds heavier than before. After we walked over to the counter and split the bill, I heard someone call out my name.
I tapped Yumi’s shoulder. “Did you hear that?”
She was peering at a booth near the entrance. Joon was waving at us. To my disbelief, he’d permed his hair. I waved back, not knowing how else to react.
“What’s up, Dana?” he called out.
I whispered to Yumi, “Should we go over?”
“We can’t exactly leave without going past him,” she commented.
Never in a million years did I expect to bump into Joon at brunch. He was sitting with five other guys. One of them, a burly guy with dreadlocks, looked familiar. As soon as I heard the guy with dreadlocks speak to the person sitting beside him, I recognized his voice. Joon was sitting with the other members of his rap crew, the guys he’d performed with at the university festival in May. They looked rough; they probably came here straight after a night out.
Joon got up and extended his arms in anticipation for a hug. I gave him a handshake instead. He wore his T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a black and red tattoo of a dagger going through a bouquet of skulls.
In his typical self-assured manner, he guffawed like we were intentionally messing with each other. “How have you been, Dana?”
“So-so,” I said, trying to be nonchalant.
“You look hot, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” Joon muttered, giving me a wink. Then he turned to the other guys and announced, “Guys, this is Dana, the love of my life, and her best friend, Yumi.”
“Hey, what’s up?” one of them said. The other guys greeted us by raising their hands.
I wasn’t sure what was going on. For the most part, Joon hadn’t changed; he’d always had a cool, cocky demeanor. However, I was taken aback by the way he’d casually referred to me as the love of his life. Besides, I couldn’t get used to seeing his blue-black hair in a perm. I grimaced as I was reminded of his disparaging comments about my curls.
“Your hair’s looking a bit too bouncy,” I pointed out, not caring if I came off as callous.
He roughed up his hair with his fingers. “I thought I’d edge up my look, try something new. Since I was recently eliminated from K Hip-Hop Hustle, I’ve been trying to give myself a fresh start.”
“Good luck with that,” I said and linked arms with Yumi. We left the restaurant before he could reply.
Once Yumi and I were standing outside in the scorching heat, she fanned her hand and asked, “What just happened? Are you Dana Day or her sassy doppelganger?”
I smacked her arm. “You
don’t think I can be sassy?”
“Frankly, I never expected you to be sassy toward Joon, which brings me to my next question. I know I brought up the topic earlier, but… are you seeing someone?”
When I envisioned Gusun’s gorgeous face staring back at me in class, my heart skidded. He always grabbed my attention with those dazzling brown eyes of his. As the sun’s rays hit my face, my mouth dried up.
“Earth to Dana!”
“Yumi,” I croaked. “I haven’t been upfront with you. It’s a long story. I’ll divulge the details later. For now, I have to keep a secret.”
She chuckled. “I had a sneaking suspicion something must be going on. You’re supposed to be the girl who perks up at the prospect of going on double dates and triple dates. I’m not used to you being secretive and saying you may or may not have a new man in your life.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not refresh our memories. I must admit, I was utterly misguided and insufferable back in spring.”
“Dana, I’m not going to probe you with questions. Just know that I may have to investigate a little. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, like I’m doing an internship for a tabloid in my spare time.”
Chapter Nine
“See you at eight,” Gusun whispered in my ear, handing me a black disposable mask.
Although it was almost two in the afternoon, I felt like my day had just started. As soon as Gusun saw me on Monday morning, he’d beamed at me as if he’d woken up to a sunny sky on vacation. While we headed over to the computer lab during class, he’d asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with him later. Once I went back to my room, I found a black scarf to wrap around my head and changed into a plain black T-shirt.
When I arrived at a secluded street near International House at eight o’clock sharp, I saw Gusun’s navy Porsche pulled over to the side of the road. I dashed toward his car and hopped inside right away. Gusun pushed my mask down to my chin and leaned in for a deep, slow kiss. His lips were incredibly soft and welcoming; I felt as if I was going to melt onto him. I kissed him back with fervor, like my life depended on it. Then he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, sending tingles down my spine. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a moan.
“Why don’t we go somewhere with a nicer view before we continue?” he suggested with a mischievous look that made my heart flutter.
“Good idea,” I replied, putting my hands on my cheeks to feel how hot they’d gotten.
As Gusun drove, my eyes were glued to his face. I still couldn’t get used to how handsome he was. For twenty minutes, I was entirely focused on studying the subtle changes in his expression—from the way the ends of his mouth curved up when he joked with me to his intent gaze when he flicked on the indicator and prepared to switch lanes.
When we stopped at a red light, he turned to me and protested, “This isn’t very fair.”
“What’s not very fair?” I asked in a sing-song voice.
“You’re staring at me.”
“And?”
“Come on, Dana. How am I supposed to keep my eyes on the road when the most amazing girl in the world keeps looking at me?”
“You’re such a flirt,” I said, giggling. “Where are we headed?”
“We’re almost there.”
When I glanced out the window, I saw a breathtaking view of the Han River. The sun had gone down, and the murky sky had unleashed the edgy, wild side of Seoul, the bridge and skyscrapers illuminated amidst the growing darkness. After Gusun parked the car, I admired the peaceful pool of water in front of us. We clicked off our seat belts.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “For what?”
I placed my arm on his shoulder, pulled myself closer to him, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “For bringing me to such a peaceful, picturesque place.”
Gusun bent over to open the glove compartment and pulled out a red palm-sized box. “I thought you might be thanking me for this, but then I remembered I hadn’t given it to you yet.”
When he handed me the box, I saw the word “Cartier” written across the top. For a minute, I simply stared at him. I was too stunned for words.
He smiled. “Don’t you want to see what’s inside?”
“Is this for me?” I asked.
“Of course.”
I took out a small case and opened it. My jaw dropped. Resting in the nest of black suede was the most gorgeous gold panther ring I’d ever seen.
“Just a little ring to add to your collection,” he said.
“I can’t accept this,” I muttered. The ring was probably ten times the price of all my jewelry combined.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you so much. Although I truly appreciate the gesture, I can’t accept such an expensive gift.”
“Don’t worry about the price, Dana. When I saw this yesterday, I was immediately reminded of you. The ring was screaming out your name. I knew I had to get it—it’s yours.”
“Gusun, I haven’t stepped foot in a Cartier store before, but I know their jewelry is crazy expensive. This isn’t just a simple gold band either. Look at the details. Are the eyes on the panther garnets?”
“What if I told you I had a matching one,” he revealed, pulling out another red case from his pocket and showing me a men’s panther ring. “Do I have to wear both rings on my own? That’s kind of sad, isn’t it? Defeats the purpose of getting matching items. Plus, my fingers aren’t small enough. Dana, the ring is yours.”
While I was already wearing a couple of rings on each hand, incidentally, the fourth finger of my left hand had been bare. Gusun held my hand and slipped what was now my very own Cartier ring onto my finger. It was a perfect fit.
My mouth gaped open at how pretty the gold panther looked on my finger. “Thank you, Gusun. I’ve never received jewelry from a man before. Other than, like, my dad.”
“Well, I’ve never gifted jewelry to a woman before. You’re the first.”
“How did you know how to get the right size then?” I asked, putting the men’s ring on him.
He cupped my face with his other hand. “I made a lucky guess. I love you, Dana.”
On Thursday, the second to last day before the end of summer sessions, Gusun invited me to his house in Hannam so that we could add the finishing touches to our online magazine. We set off in his car right after class. When we drove through the entrance, I instantly recognized the name of his swanky apartment complex. According to media outlets, numerous top celebrities, successful entrepreneurs, and conglomerate heirs were supposedly residents.
“You live here?” I exclaimed the moment we were inside his apartment.
“No, I’m just a real estate agent,” he joked in his deadpan way.
Although I knew Undone was massively successful and presumed Gusun could live luxuriously without ever working again, if that was what he wanted, I was stunned to be in such a dreamy place. The house was immaculate with cozy earth-toned décor. Light flowed in through the large windows and the mix of vintage furniture added a luxurious touch. When I saw a magnificent view of the Han River through the wall of windows in his living room, I promptly ran over to get a better look. While I watched cars zoom across the nearest bridge, Gusun came and stood by my side. I felt as if I’d been transported into a feel-good movie where everyone was rich and attractive; Gusun was my soulmate and we were going to embark on our happily-ever-after.
“How does it feel to wake up to the best view in Seoul?” I asked.
He shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t think about it much. I’ve only lived here since May. I should probably appreciate the view more.”
“Seriously? You have an even more impressive view of the river than we did when we went on a drive on Monday.”
“I’m very privileged,” he admitted.
Gusun and I went to his study to work on our project. Although I’d brought my laptop, I ended up using one of the two desktop computers in the room
. As we’d finished creating the content and writing the articles, we sat side by side, and I explained what we needed to fix with our website. Since he’d guided me through the process of organizing interviews, I enjoyed taking the lead for a change.
Two hours later, I gestured toward the computer monitor that displayed the homepage of our website. “We’re done!”
“You’re brilliant,” he said, beaming at me.
“This is a pretty simple website though. I’m far from being a professional web designer. Wait. Are you making fun of me?” I gave him a jab with my elbow.
While I put my notebook, labeled “GDP: Gusun and Dana Project,” in my bag, Gusun stroked my back and looked at me earnestly. “No, I’m serious, Dana. You’re a lot more innovative and intelligent than you give yourself credit for. Compared to me, you are a computer whiz. I could never have set up a website on my own in less than three weeks. Besides, I was also referring to the articles you wrote for our website. You’re a charming interviewer and a witty writer. I loved the two album reviews you wrote. Your commentary was spot on.”
I grinned, bashful yet flattered. “Do you really think so?”
“Dana, I’ve met hundreds of interviewers and journalists. I know what I’m talking about and meant what I said. Honestly, you’re a natural.”
Emboldened by his compliment, I shared, “Let me tell you a little secret. I almost withdrew from Creative Music Projects on the first day of summer sessions. I was nervous about not having any musical talent or creative ability. Plus, I was in a crabby mood after coming to class drenched in rain. The truth is, I didn’t expect to enjoy the process of creating an online magazine so much. In hindsight, I’m so glad I signed up for Creative Music Projects out of the blue. Thank you for suggesting we should pair up together. If I thought nobody wanted to work with me, I wouldn’t have continued taking the course.”
