Page 2 of GR8VITY

I've never understood the infatuation with voices until this moment. The way his goes so deep as he says that, he might as well have run his hand across the back of my shoulders, because that's what it feels like.

I bite my lips quickly before admitting, "Either you're a figment of my imagination or a ghost with the way that you keep appearing and disappearing."

His laugh is low, and it immediately puts a smile on my face. Swinging his arm around, he offers a small white bag between us. "If I were either of those, could I be presenting you with ice cream right now?"

My eyes narrow slightly as I lean away from him. I can see his smile drop instantly as his eyes widen in surprise. "I promise I'm not a creep or anything. I was just craving ice cream and thought you might like some as well."

I can't stop the laugh this time. It simply bubbles right up. "I don't think you're a creep. I was just going to say that I'm reassessing the situation and think you might be a psychic instead."

He snickers, dropping the bag between us on the bench before handing me the first package of Mochi. I take it, opening it and retrieving the tiny fork while I wait on him to open his. Once he's got his, I hold it out toward him. There's a moment that he looks at it before glancing up at me questioningly.

I grin. "Cheers."

Finally tapping his to mine, he repeats, "Cheers."

I'm too busy with the first bite of one of my favorite desserts to ever exist to notice when he slips one side of his mask off to take a bite of his own. It isn't until he moves to put the rest of it in his mouth that I glance over and promptly forget any coherent thought that might've been residing in my head.

There was definitely something familiar about his eyes. His face makes me feel like I'm having déjà vu, but I know for a fact that I've never met him. It's more than that, though. He's got to be one of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. "Have we met somewhere before?"

Tilting his head over a bit, one side of his mouth pulls up like he's enjoying an inside joke. "Yes."

I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out where we might've met and wondering how I possibly could've forgotten him when he starts chuckling.

Taking a bite of his Mochi, he glances back over at me. "Yesterday. Right here."

Closing my eyes, I shake my head with a smirk at his cleverness and give him a few seconds to enjoy his joke. "You just look really familiar."

He chuckles around another bite of his ice cream. "I just have one of those faces."

There's a lie there. I'm not sure how I know, but I do. It might just be in my gut, but there's also something in the way that he gently bites his bottom lip.

"You know," I start, "I think I just realized that I might be easier to kidnap than I ever thought I would be."

He cuts his eyes back over to me in question, and his expression makes me laugh. "It's true. Apparently, all it would take is a pretty face and some ice cream. I'd be a goner."

Covering his mouth with his hand, his laugh is almost deeper than his voice and super contagious. I can only imagine how he catches me looking at him when he glances back over at me. Snapping my slightly parted lips shut, I feign interest back toward the night lights of the city. In my peripheral, I see him pulling the loose strap of his facemask back over his ear, blocking his face from sight again. It doesn't matter, though. The damage is done. Even if tonight is the last night that I see him, I won't be forgetting that face any time soon.

"Would it make you feel better to know my name?" he asks. "Maybe less like taking ice cream from a stranger?"

My lips pull up into a smile automatically. "Maybe."

"Byeong Kyung Mi," he states quietly, even though there's no one around us to hear him. "But you can call me Kyung. My friends do."

I glance over at him where he's waiting almost expectantly and reply, "Elizabeth Tierney. Everyone just calls me Liz or Lizzy, though."

"Are you from here, Lizzy?" he asks.

Sitting back, I get comfortable in my seat. It's not a rare question that I never get or anything. As an American who definitely looks American, I think I've gotten asked this question more than any other in all my years here. It doesn't help speaking in Korean like we are. If I had a nickel for every time someone started a conversation in English instead of Korean because they assume I can't speak it, I'd be rich. It always confuses them.

"I'm not," I answer easily. "I was born and raised in America. Virginia as a matter of fact. My adoptive mother was from here. Well, technically, a small village in the south, but she moved to the states when she was in her late twenties."

"So, you're visiting her homeland with her, then?" he questions.

"Not exactly," I say with a sad smile. "She passed four years ago. It was always her dream to come back home after the man that she married and moved over there for divorced her. She chose to devote her time to helping kids like me who had no one or anywhere to go. Then she got sick and never made it home."

"Wow, I'm sorry," he says, sympathy in his voice.