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Putting the photograph down, I make my way across the hall tothe small bathroom. After brushing my teeth for the second time tonight, I go to the bed, lift back the sheets, and climb inside.
But just like in the hotel, I can’t seem to fall asleep.Rising again, a little worried now that I won’t be able to sleep tonightat all, I open Nathaniel’s closet. I’m full-on snooping, but I need—
On a shelf, eye-level with me, is a stuffed bear. With black buttons for eyes and a bowtie. I grab the bear from the shelf and crawl into bed. Immediately the calmness that I’d been seeking all night settles over me. The bear’s soft head fits perfectly beneath my chin. It smells clean, like detergent.
I’m drifting into sleep, a wonderful fog filling my mind. As if in a dream, I hear a distant squeal as the front door opens, then the creak of the stairs followed by footsteps in the hall. The light switches on, glaring across the room. I squint my eyes against the sudden brightness.
“Sori?” Nathaniel gapes from where he stands in the doorway. “What are you doing in my bed?”
Four
“Is that Bearemy Baggins?” Nathaniel points to the stuffed bear clasped to my chest.
“I found him in the closet,” I say defensively.
I feel a bit light-headed, and I’m not sure if it’s from being startled awake or Nathaniel’s presence. I can’t remember the last time we’d been alone together, probably not since we were dating. I try to transpose the sixteen-year-old boy he was then with the eighteen-year-old boy who stands before me now, but it’s impossible. So much about him has changed, at least physically. He was always athletic, but he’s grown into his body, his boyish softness gone. He’s wearing layers, but that doesn’t hide the fact that beneath his shirt and sweater, his shoulders are broad, his chest lean and strong. I cling even tighter to Bearemy.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, finally, and I take a deep breath.
“I couldn’t sleep, and so I decided to get some pizza, and I remembered the name of Joe’s Pizzeria from when I visited you that summer, but while I was there, I ran into Nadine, who wouldn’t let me take a taxi back to Manhattan this late at night, and so I ended up at your house.”
I stare at him. He stares at me.
“You don’t even like New York pizza,” he says. Thatwouldbe his takeaway from my long-winded explanation.
“It’s not proper pizza,” I explain. “There’s no corn or sweet potatoes in the crust.”
“Sori, that’s agoodthing.”
Nathaniel turns slightly, alerted by a sound down the hall. Stepping through the door, he closes it behind him.
And now we’re alone togetherbehind a closed door. He must realize this too because he looks away from me, only for his eyes to widen slightly.
I follow his gaze to where my black T-shirt bra dangles from the back of his desk chair where I’d carelessly tossed it before climbing into bed. My body goes hot all at once. His eyes dart sharply to mine, and then we both look away. The Pikachu clock on the bookcase ticks loudly, counting each second. I have a moment’s hope that maybe this is all an awful dream, but even my subconscious wouldn’t be so cruel.
My phone chirps on the nightstand and I practically dive for it.
It’s a text from my father’s secretary, a very lengthy and detailed text.
“Is everything all right?” Nathaniel asks once I’ve finished reading the whole message, and his voice is calm, even.
“I have a lunch scheduled with my grandmother at her home.”
“Ah,” Nathaniel says, then adds politely, “That sounds... fun?” He must be remembering that my father’s mother isn’t exactly the kindest, most loving grandmother.
“My father’s secretary sent specifications on what sort of outfit I should wear, something elegant to quote ‘befit the only child ofa future presidential candidate.’ A photographer will be present at the estate to take photographs for an article that’ll run alongside my father’s new ad campaign.”
Nathaniel lets out a low whistle. “You and Sun are like those rich people in dramas,” he says, attempting to lighten the mood.
I shake my head. “Sun is on a whole different level. He’s chaebol.”
Nathaniel raises a brow. “And you’re not?”
“My father is an assemblyman, and my mother is the CEO of Joah Entertainment. Neither owns conglomerates.”
“Is that all?” Nathaniel says dryly. There’s a smirk on his face, but as he looks away, his smile fades.
Here I’ve been arguing the difference between rich people in Korea and complaining about my wealthy family when his parents own a dry-cleaning service. Not that that’s not completely respectable, but it’s a far cry from being multimillionaires. Still, they’ve managed to help put all four of his sisters through college,withoutNathaniel’s earnings from XOXO, as I know they refused to take money from him.
