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My whole life I’ve had people pursue me because of my money or my family connections, but Jenny wanted to be my friend not knowing anything of my background. She would say it was because of my stellar personality. Which would only be half true. Even I can admit, I’m a bit prickly.
“Sori,” she says, “did you dress up just for me?”
“Jenny,” I say dryly, “I dress up every time I go out.”
She’sdressed comfortably in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, both printed with the name of the music conservatory where she studies: the Manhattan School of Music.
I place the shopping bag I’ve been carrying all over the city onto the table, taking the seat opposite. “I got you a few gifts.”
“Chanel!”
I rest my chin on my hand as I watch her exclaim over eachitem. They’re mostly samples I picked up at shows, plus a few Korean brands that I know Jenny likes. She takes out a cylinder of lip gloss. Uncapping the top and using the obsidian walls of the restaurant as a reflective surface, she sweeps it across her lips.
I pick up a corn chip from a bowl on the table, examining it between my nails before popping it into my mouth. “How was the concert last night?” She’d told me she was going to see XOXO a few months ago, when the group had announced the US stops for their world tour. “Did you sit in a VIP box?” I tease.
The many XOXO fans in the restaurant would be eager to know that my best friend is dating the group’s main vocalist, Bae Jaewoo. They’d made it official when they were classmates at SAA, with me and Jaewoo’s other bandmates—except for Sun, who had graduated by the time Jenny enrolled.
“Manager Nam got me the tickets,” Jenny says, naming XOXO’s manager, Nam Ji Seok.
“Ah.” She doesn’t have to explain further. Ji Seok wouldneverput a girlfriend in a VIP box, where she’d be too visible. While idolsdodate, it’s considered bad publicity to flaunt it, let alone publicly admit to it.
“They were good seats though,” she says. “I took Uncle Jay, and he kept on striking up conversations with random fans. It was super embarrassing.”
Even as she says the words, there’s a glow to her cheeks, and I know that she not-so-secretly loved it. Her “uncle” Jay was her dad’s best friend before he passed away.
“Have you seen Jaewoo?” I ask, picking up another corn chip. “Besides at the concert.”
She shakes her head. “Our schedules haven’t worked out, but we have plans to spend the day together tomorrow. He wants to go to a baseball game.”
“That sounds nice.” And like something Jaewoo would want to do. I’ve known him since we were in middle school, and he’s always been absolutely wild for baseball. In fact, the one and only time I’d been to New York before this trip, I’d gone to see a baseball game with him and another of our friends, Nathaniel. It was the summer between middle and high school. I’d never been interested in the sport, but watching them get so excited, cheering and hugging each other after a particularly daring play, I’d felt a slice of their joy. I still remember that warm feeling.
“You want to come?” Jenny asks, drawing me back to the present.
I lift an eyebrow. Jennywouldinvite me to hang out with her and her boyfriend.
“I have a flight back to Seoul tomorrow,” I tell her and make a mental note to let Jaewoo know that he owes me one.
“I wish we could’ve spent more time together,” she says. Then she seems to remember something, because she leans forward excitedly. “Oh, wait! I forgot to tell you. Remember that quartet I was telling you about, the one with the residency in Tokyo? I’ve decided to go for it.”
“Really?” My heart leaps at the thought of her being so close. From Gimpo Airport, the flight to Tokyo is only two hours. Much shorter than the sixteen-hour flight from New York to Incheon.
She’d told me about the opportunity a few weeks ago, that herschool was auditioning a cellist for a string quartet that would tour Asia. If she gets the spot, she’ll be in Japan for six months.
“It’s still a long shot,” she says nervously, pulling at the brim of her ball cap. “Most of the cellists auditioning are older than me, and maybe more deserving...”
“Stop that.” She looks up, and I hold her gaze. “You work so hard, and you’re talented. You are as deserving of this chance as anyone. I’m proud of you.”
“Yes, okay.” She blushes, then nods. “You’re right. Thanks, Sori.”
“We need to celebrate,” I say firmly. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
I press the call button on the side of the table and a bell sound pings overhead. A server appears within seconds.
“Two ciders, please,” I order.
When our cans of ice-cold Chilsung Cider arrive, we pop open the tabs and clink the cans together. “Geonbae!” we shout together.
The cider is sweet and bubbly and leaves a tingling sensation in my mouth and throat.
