I Believe in a Thing Called Love

by Maurene Goo

  It was a blown-up photo of Luca. I lurched over and tried to grab it from her but she held it away with a bratty, “Nuh-uh! Let’s stalk him. Isn’t that on your list somewhere?”

  Hm. I pulled out my notebook where I kept the K drama list. I was on step 7, Mystery Surrounds the Guy but Find Out More. “Well, I was going to do this on my own time, but why not now? But then we have to study, okay?” I said sternly.

  Fiona rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mom. First, let’s see what dirt we can get on this guy, make sure he’s worthy of this K drama insanity.”

  “Whoa, he’s got a lot of Internet action,” Wes said as Fiona scrolled through the Google results.

  Something caught my eye. “Luca Drakos Official Fan Page? What the heck is that? Click on it!”

  “That can’t be for your Luca, right?” Fiona asked skeptically while tapping on the link.

  It led us to a website full of beautiful, strange drawings and paintings. Dark, exquisitely rendered figures entwined in ropy vines, being lifted or held down by nightmarish creatures. Elfin faces painted in painstaking detail with complex layers of milky paint washed over them, dotted with tiny insects. Though totally different in subject, they looked incredibly similar in style to that doodle in English class.

  “This looks like Luca’s stuff,” I murmured.

  We were quiet as we absorbed image after surreal image. Was this all Luca’s work? What kind of teenager was this prolific? And why the hell was he going to our high school rather than some art school for talented mutants like him?

  Fiona whistled. “Damn, girl. You picked a good one.”

  “No, she picked a difficult one. Des, end it now while you have your dignity,” Wes said, settling deeper into the sofa, his skinny jeans squeaking against the leather.

  I sputtered. “Excuse you.”

  I took Fiona’s iPad from her and clicked on the “Bio” link on Luca’s fan page. “Luca Drakos was born on August 16, 1999, in Santa Barbara, California. From a young age he loved art—according to his mother, his first word was Impressionism.”

  We laughed.

  I continued reading. “He grew up in the Southern California spiritual enclave of Ojai, taking art classes at a young age, the star in every class.”

  “Bet everyone loved him,” Fiona interjected.

  I shushed her. “By the time he started high school at Santa Barbara School for the Arts, Luca was already notorious—not just for his groundbreaking neo-surrealist paintings, but for his reputation as a rule-breaker as well.”

  Fiona grabbed the iPad from me and continued to read from Luca’s bio. “He has won numerous awards, including the National Young Artist and Bright Star to Watch awards. His personal Tumblr page, which skyrocketed him to fame, has over one million followers.”

  “What?” Wes sat up at that bit of geek info. “That’s like … he’s, like, Tumblr famous.”

  I held up my list dramatically, pointing at step 3. “So clearly he is the world’s most unattainable guy. He’s basically famous.” My heart started to beat quicker, because even with the K drama steps as my magic feather, I had just now fully comprehended the monumental nature of the task at hand.

  I looked up at my friends in despair. “I can barely speak to normal cute boys. How am I going to land this guy? This—this unattainable artist. Like, you know how people talk about leagues of hotness—he’s so out of my league when you add this crazy talent to it all. My league is here, firmly planted in Orange freaking County. And Luca’s league is somewhere floating in space, idly and sexily orbiting some distant planet.”

  A beat of silence and then Wes burst out laughing. “Jesus, Desi! Your inner monologues.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes. “And he’s so not out of your league. You’re freaking out of his league. Any guy would be so lucky.” It was Fiona being fiercely protective, not empty best-friend buildup, but it was still nice to hear. She kept talking. “And yeah, he’s hot, but whatever, you’re hot, too. Do I need to start my ‘Ode to Desi’s Perfect Bubble Ass’ rap?”

  “Oh my God, please no.” Wes groaned. “And Des, whatever, I was just kidding about ending it with your dignity still in place. So just chill. I’ve never known someone to have such selective low self-esteem. It’s like, soccer? You’re the best player to have ever lived and nobody better mess. But then with guys? You have this warped view of being some underdog.”

  I flushed—while my friends were being kind, I suddenly felt like I was fishing for compliments. “Well, I am the best soccer player to have ever lived,” I said breezily. “Not counting Messi.”

  “So you’re really gonna do this?” Wes asked with a wide, mischievous smile.

  I nodded slowly, feeling my insecurities melt away as that ol’ familiar can-do Desi Lee determination came back in full force. “Yes. The steps will guide the way.” I paused. “But we have a minor setback.”

  Fiona fished an ice cube out of her glass and popped it into her mouth. “What?”

  “Cassidy told me that he doesn’t want a girlfriend. He actually said that.”

  “Please. That’s easy, you’ll just have to change his mind,” Fiona said, one eyebrow raised like a Bond girl villain.

  I pressed my lips together. “Right. First things first then. Can you teach me how to do that eyebrow thing?”

  When I got home that evening, I opened my K drama steps notebook and carefully ripped out the pages with just the steps written on them. I folded them up and put them in my wallet. I knew it was silly, but having the list near me was reassuring. Its magical powers pulsing near my ID and cash at all times, always close, always watchful. And I needed all the help I could get.

  * * *

  A couple of days later, I was still scheming to find ways to get more Luca time beyond just Art Club, which only met once a week. So far in my K drama reconnaissance I had been able to find out that his group of friends seemed to be Violet, Cassidy, and a few other art kids. They either hung out on the grassy lawn in the courtyard or in the art room for lunch. He wasn’t in any other extracurricular activities or sports as far as I could tell (surprise, surprise). He was also in remedial classes, except for art.

  Another note: he ate a frozen burrito for lunch every single day. Gross.

  My phone buzzed during physics but I ignored it because we were in the middle of a quiz. Then it buzzed two more times. I glanced up to see Miss Clark on her computer, completely oblivious. I quickly pulled it out of my denim-jacket pocket and glanced down at the texts. Fiona. Who was sitting a few rows ahead of me. What the heck? I unlocked my phone to read the texts.

  Did you hear about Luca?

  ???

  How he got arrested??!!

  I quickly texted back: No??!! Talk after class.

  I whizzed through the quiz, double-checked my answers, then watched the clock. I waited impatiently until the bell rang. When it did, I practically dragged Fiona outside, where everyone else around us was rushing to class.

  “Well?!” I demanded.

  Fiona raised her eyebrows at me. “So everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Who’s everyone? He’s been at this school for, like, a week!” I exclaimed. “Is he okay?” I was instantly worried, over this guy I barely knew.

  “Well, this kid, Spencer Something, was skating around the zoo last night and saw him get arrested.”

  “Wait, who’s this Spencer Something?”

  Fiona shrugged. “I don’t know, one of those skater guys.” She adjusted her backpack. “Anyway, I have to run, my coding class has a special guest lecturer today. But”—she looked at me meaningfully—“apparently this wasn’t his first time.” With that, she was off in a cloud of sultry men’s cologne and a jangle of bangles.

  Not the first time?! I did recall something about rule-breaker from our Google stalking, but nothing illegal … also, the zoo? What had he been doing when I ran into him at the abandoned zoo? I needed to find out more, but unfortunately Art Club wasn’t until next Tuesday. Until then, Luca
would have to remain a mystery.

  * * *

  The following Tuesday, I walked tentatively into the art studio after school. It was a large room with a low ceiling and a wall of windows to let in plenty of light. Whatever wall space was left was filled with student art projects and vintage posters from various museums. The back of the room was reserved for supplies, closed off partially by a dark green canvas curtain.

  I looked around, feeling more like a fraud than ever. Pretending to draw animals at the zoo was one thing; spending an hour actually trying to create art was another.

  Everyone was already knee-deep in their charity art show projects—some were paintings on canvas, others mixed media, some were even sculptures. I didn’t see Luca. But there was Violet, front and center, her canvas set up on an easel as she sat on a stool with her long legs stretched out, wearing a pair of big, pretentious, clear-framed glasses as she concentrated on her masterpiece.

  Ugh.

  I spied Cassidy going through the green curtain that led to the supply area, so I followed her in. “Hey, Cassidy.”

  She glanced over at me as she grabbed a set of charcoals. “Hey, Desi!”

  “Sorry to be annoying, but would you mind helping me pick out some supplies for the charity show project?” I asked, embarrassed.

  “Sure! What kind of medium were you thinking? Acrylic, watercolor…?”

  “Well, that’s where I need help. I’m not quite sure.” I scanned the shelves of art supplies—they were arranged row after row, like library stacks. There were coffee tins full of paintbrushes, tubes and bottles of paint, plastic trays, which I assumed were palettes, bundles of pastels and charcoals, canvases and easels, etc. I was impressed—this was a great art department for a California public school.

  Cassidy stood back and squinted while assessing the supplies. “Okay, well, I think oil would be kind of intense for a beginner and watercolor can be tricky, too. Let’s go with something more forgiving—acrylic!” She grabbed a few bottles of primary colors. “You know the whole thing about mixing these colors to create all the other colors, right?”

  Hm. Kind of. “Sure!” I answered brightly. A few minutes later I was armed with a sixteen-by-twenty-inch canvas, a few different paintbrushes, a plastic tray, and the bottles of paint.

  When we left the supply area, I instantly spotted Luca. It was like every nerve ending in my body was attuned to his presence.

  He was sitting next to Violet, feet propped up on a desk, laughing at something she was saying. Ugh, really? How funny could she be? I had never met anyone as humorless as that walking American Apparel ad. And I was immediately irked by how at ease he seemed to be in her presence.

  I thought of my current K drama step: Mystery Surrounds the Guy but Find Out More. Break down the mysterious wall like a sassy jackhammer.

  And the first thing I needed to figure out was whether or not Luca had actually gotten arrested. And if yes, for what?

  “Let’s go sit with those guys,” I said cheerfully, steering Cassidy over to Luca and Violet.

  She raised her eyebrows at me. “Really?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  A quick, shrewd expression passed over Cassidy’s face, but she didn’t say anything. She was probably clued in to my Luca crush now. Oh well.

  “Hey guys,” I said, laying my supplies down on a desk. Keep your voice cool, Des. Nix the enthusiasm.

  Luca glanced up, his eyes meeting mine for a second. “Oh, hey Desi.”

  Every part of me warmed up, including my cheeks. I dropped my head pretending to fish something out of my backpack so that he wouldn’t notice the telltale blush.

  “Why are you here? Didn’t you have enough at the zoo?”

  My head whipped up and I looked straight at Violet. “Same reason you are, Andy Warhol.”

  Luca cracked a huge smile and Cassidy coughed abruptly.

  “I doubt it,” Violet muttered, but she seemed to be bored by me already, and her body leaned toward her painting in concentration.

  I get it, you’re an artiste.

  While I was setting up my paints, I couldn’t help but glance over at Luca. Who was still in his reclined position, staring at his phone. This was going to be difficult. How could I bring up the arrest in front of everyone without putting him on the spot? And would he even give me a straight answer? No, I needed to take the more casual, natural route. And if there were any two words in the English language that defined me? Well, literally, the last two would be casual and natural.

  “So what are you working on, then?” I asked. The breeziness of my question was offset by the sudden fart noise my bottle of acrylic paint made when I squeezed it. I froze, letting a second of silence pass. “Um, that was my paint.”

  Luca smirked. “Sure.”

  “Shut up.” But I had already started giggling. And couldn’t stop.

  Deadly, poison-laced daggers were being stabbed into my face from Violet’s eyeballs. I pursed my lips, willing the giggles to stop.

  “My project’s a secret. What’s yours?” Luca asked.

  Giggles stopped abruptly. I hesitated. I had decided on painting my favorite tree, the California sycamore. An idea that had seemed cool last night when I thought of it, but now in front of Violet and the other art kids I felt self-conscious. I stammered, “Um—well—I was thinking maybe…”

  Then the voice inside me that usually told me to be cool around guys was saying something else: be earnest. Because K drama heroines were always earnest to a maddening degree. It was their most endearing trait. Other than their klutziness.

  And let’s be honest, sycamore trees were cool.

  “I’m painting a California sycamore.” As anticipated, I got a blank face from Luca. I powered ahead. “It’s a fast-growing deciduous tree that tolerates heat, smog, and drought as well as moist conditions. A total badass.”

  Cassidy’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly and Luca was still staring at me. I flushed but refused to back down. “So yeah, I’m painting a tree.”

  Violet cackled. “Are you serious?”

  Before I could defend myself, Luca sat up, propped his elbows on his desk, and looked at me intently. “That’s amazing.”

  Great. Now he was making fun of me. “No need to be rude,” I sniffed.

  He shook his head. “No! I’m serious! Will you be making some sort of statement about climate change and the need for drought-tolerant trees like this in city landscaping?”

  Zap. Again. Usually it was the brush of his hand or some adorable thing he did with his mouth that gave me that little jolt. But this time, it was his nerdy reaction to my nerdiness.

  “Yes?” My brain was scrambled eggs and it was the only thing I could muster with my rapidly beating heart. “So why is your project a secret?”

  But before he could respond, Luca’s phone buzzed. He glanced at whatever text message he had received, stood up, and slipped the phone into his back pocket. He smiled down at me, as dazzling and fleeting as a comet. “Because it’s a secret.” He headed toward the door with a “Later, guys.” And then he was gone.

  What the heck?

  Violet looked over at me with narrowed eyes. “You ruin everything.”

  Ignoring her, I tried to feign interest in my blank canvas while frustrated by knowing that I’d probably done as much as I could with step 7. Luca was way too good at this mysterious-guy act.

  STEP 8:

  Be Caught in an Obviously Lopsided Love Triangle

  I stared at Wes. He stared back at me. Then winked. I shuddered.

  This was not going to work. “Don’t be gross.”

  He took his right hand off the steering wheel and clasped mine. I pulled it away and slapped his hand. “Creeper, don’t make me regret this. I am not above destroying everyone you love if you make this difficult for me.”

  He adjusted his hair and continued to grin. The grin that had slain a thousand hearts at Monte Vista High. “Hey, I’m doing you a favor right now. All in the name of K
drama love.”

  It was true. We were headed to a party. Together, as a date. The other day, when I passed by Luca between classes for half a second, I asked if he was going to the party and he said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll check out that sex party.”

  So Wes was chosen to be the Other Guy (aka second lead) for step 8: Be Caught in an Obviously Lopsided Love Triangle. I still hadn’t been able to find out anything about Luca’s no-girlfriend deal, so I was hoping that some raging jealousy might make him rethink that whole thing.

  Wes was a stellar candidate for the secondary love interest. Cute enough to be a viable threat to the hotness that was Luca, and a good actor, too. Which he had to be—we had to convince everyone at this party that we were interested in each other, not just Luca.

  “Okay, so the rules for tonight—” I started.

  “Chill, Des. You already told me the stupid rules.”

  “Weeeell, I am going to repeat them since you’ve already violated one,” I said, staring pointedly at his hand. “Okay, so we’re not overtly dating, and it will never be confirmed that we are. I just want there to be enough insinuation to keep Won Bin on his toes, to see if we can make him jealous.” Won Bin was our code name for Luca. Also, Won Bin happens to be the hottest Korean actor alive.

  I poked him. “So this means only heavy flirting. No sexy touching. Keep this PG, my friend.”

  He leaned over and reached for a strand of my hair. “Done and dunzo, my friend. I have the flirting-but-not-dating thing down.” A little tug on my hair for added emphasis.

  That earned him a K drama finger-flick to the forehead. “We’ll only resort to PG-13 if we need to.” Then I handed him the list of love triangle rules I had written and printed out.

  He squinted down at it. “What’s with all the colors?”

  “Certain rules are highlighted to denote levels of importance. There’s a legend at the top of—”

  Wes crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the backseat. My mouth dropped open. “Hey! I spent a lot of time on that!”

  “I’m saving you from yourself. I know you’re following these K drama steps and all that, and you think you’ve got it down to some science. But trust me—Wes Mansour doesn’t need a list.”