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“Of course, I did.” I roll my eyes. “You’re American, but you’re also Korean.” I say this adamantly.
The next time I look back at him, there’s a small smile on his face.
I stop outside his door. “You’re allowed to go anywhere in the house. Except for my mother’s room. She hasn’t been back to the house in over a month, and I don’t think she’ll come back anytime soon.” She was already busy, and that’s not going to stop in the coming weeks.
Nathaniel glances down the hall, then returns his gaze to me. I wonder if we’ll talk about what happened outside the house, before Ajumma interrupted us. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.
I panic a little at the thought. If that happens, it will put a stop to everything.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Nathaniel says, opening his bedroom door.
Relief sweeps through me and my heart fills with warmth at his words. They’re like a promise.
“Oh, and one last thing.” He turns back. “I found a slight flaw with one of your rules.”
I narrow my eyes, sensing that he’s about to say something outrageous.
“The rule about sleeping with a shirt on.” He smirks. “How will you know if I break it?”
Clearly pleased with himself, he strolls into his room.
The next morning, I wake with a start. With yesterday fresh in my mind, I leap from the bed. A Pikachu flies and hits the door as I slow down in time to quietly open it, peeking my head through. Across the hall, Nathaniel’s door is open.My stomach drops only to see his hoodie from the night before hanging from the back of a chair. He’sstill here, just... awake. Was he always an early riser?
I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face, then change from pajamas into sweats, gathering my hair behind my head and pinning it with a claw. I rush down the stairs, stopping short when I see Nathaniel seated at the dining room table. He’s wearing a zip-up hoodie over a white shirt, his hair tousled from sleep. He has one leg drawn up on the chair, his elbow balanced on his knee as he stares with concentration at the screen of his laptop. Headphones cover his ears, but he looks up briefly at my arrival, lifting his hand in a wave, before returning his attention to the screen.
I remember in New York he’d said he was taking a class. Curious, I walk around the table. He’s sitting toward its center, with his back to the kitchen. My eyes find the screen only to see that it’s split into dozens of screens, though the speaker is highlighted. I quickly dart to the side, almost tripping over my house slippers.
Nathaniel laughs, moving his headphones to his neck. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to be on camera.” I keep my voice to a whisper.
“It’s off,” he says, amused, “and I’m muted.” He reaches out to tug my sleeve until I’m standing next to him. “That’s my professor,” he says, pointing to the spotlighted box, which shows a middle-aged Caucasian woman. “And these are my classmates.” He clicks an icon and more boxes appear, though most have their cameras turned off, like Nathaniel’s.
“Nathaniel Lee” is displayed at the bottommost corner of his box. “You use your real name?” I ask.
“Why not? There are probably dozens of Nathaniel Lees.”
He takes off his headphones completely. Grabbing his empty mug from the table, he pushes back his chair and stands.
“Don’t you need to pay attention?” I ask, following him into the kitchen.
“She’s going over some points from the last lecture.” He places his mug on the cup tray of the coffee machine. It’s a new model that my mother purchased before she left. “How did you sleep last night?”
I don’t want to tell him that I woke up a few times in the middle of the night, anxious that he’d be gone in the morning. “I slept fine.”
He raises a brow at my answer but doesn’t question me.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m using this.” He nods to the machine.
“I said you could, last night. And no one uses it.” My mother did, one time, but then she’d purchased a newer model for her office.
He shifts open the drawer of colorful pods. “Want to pick a flavor for me?”
“Yes.”
I select a pod and hold it up.
“Pink, I should have known.”
