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My eyes track the voice among all the other noises in the busy pickup zones at LAX. It’s a full-circle moment, I realize. LAX bookending the summer that started off like a dream but then turned into a nightmare in New York. And now I’m back in the States.
But I couldn’t bring myself to return to the East Coast. New York has lost its charm for me.
I finally spot my tall, ridiculously handsome friend standing, waiting by his Toyota Camry. To think I tried pretty much all summer to hate him and it never happened. Instead, Jason’s managed to become one of the closest friends I’ve ever had.
“What’s up, man?” I say once I reach the car, grabbing his hand and pulling him in for a hug. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“No problem. Get in. Let’s get some food before going home.”
Home.
When I was able to secure a spot for the fall quarter at UCLA—definitely using family connections and money with such short notice, but I swear to myself this will be the last time—the first person I contacted was Jason.
The first person I wanted to call was Jessica. But with the way everything ended between us, there’s no way she’ll want to see me. Maybe one day in the future, now that I’m closer to where she lives, we can meet up and clear the air. Hell, it’s possible I’ll even tell her how she makes me feel. How she’s one of the reasons I had the guts to stand up to my dad and take control of my life. How she inspires and motivates me. How I think about her all the time and wish there had been a way for us to be together.
In any case, Jason let me know that his apartment was short one roommate, so it was a no-brainer. We’ve already lived together in the closest quarters, and we wouldn’t even have to share a bunk bed this time. I get my own room and everything—and it’s not far from campus either. A dream.
“How was your flight? Are you too exhausted if I take us to a really good banh mi place that’s a little out of the way?”
“Banh mi?”
“Vietnamese sandwiches. To die for. Really.”
“Sounds good. I’m down for anything,” I say.
Thankfully the freeway traffic isn’t as bad as some of the horror stories I’ve heard about California. My eyes get a little heavy and I close them for just a minute.
Someone nudges my arm and I wake up, startled, uncertain where I am, the sun beating on my face through the window. Thank goodness I remembered to reapply sunscreen.
Will I still be able to afford my Korean sunscreen on my new budget?
“Wake up, sleepyhead, we’re here,” Jason says.
I shake the fogginess from my head and take in our surroundings. We’re parked in a nondescript shopping center. There are some small restaurants and eateries and stores, but for the most part, it’s not busy. I see the “Best Banh Mi” café at the other side of the lot.
“Dude, why did you park so far away?” I ask.
“What, are my chauffeuring skills not up to your standards, Mr. Lee?” After I came clean to Jason about who my family is, he hasn’t stopped giving me shit for it. But it feels good not having to keep anything from him anymore. “Don’t want anyone dinging my doors,” he says by way of explanation.
We get out of the car and I notice there are plenty of dings in his doors. There are also very few cars in this lot. But I shrug because stretching my legs for a few more steps sounds like heaven after a twelve-hour flight—in coach.
We walk past a small hardware store, a 99 Ranch Market, a boba tea café. Things are not as flashy as they are in Seoul or New York. But I like it.
I look into the window of a cute ice cream shop. The name on the door says, “Scoops de Loop.”
Wait a second.
Scoops de Loop. Where have I heard that before? Is there a location in Korea, in Gangnam or Hongdae?
“Hey, let’s grab some ice cream before we get the sandwiches,” Jason suggests. He doesn’t wait for me to answer and opens the door, holding it for me. I stare at him in confusion, and he pushes me into the small ice cream shop.
“Welcome to Scoops de Loop, where we scoop to your heart’s content...”
The voice immediately registers and my heartbeat picks up before I even see her. She’s standing behind the counter in a striped apron, a paper hat that looks like an origami project gone wrong, and a large name tag. And her eyes are wide with shock, staring right at me.
Jessica.
My mouth is completely dry and I try to swallow, but apparently my heart has decided to lodge itself in my throat. I take in every bit of her. There are no designer clothes for her to hide behind. Just the fierce, loyal, smart, driven, beautiful girl of every one of my dreams since summer.
