I’m relieved when the doors open again and I take her hand, which is cool and not clammy as expected. Perhaps I don’t affect her as much as I’d like. The thought is disheartening.

In our wake we hear embarrassed giggling from the couple.

“What is it about elevators?” I mutter. And I have to admit there’s something wholesome and naïve about their giggling that’s totally charming. Miss Hwang seems that innocent, just like them, and as we walk onto the street I question my motives again.

She’s too young. She’s too inexperienced, but, damn, I like the feel of her hand in mine.

X

In the coffee shop I direct her to find a table and ask what she wants to drink. She stutters through her order: English Breakfast tea—hot water, bag on the side. That’s a new one to me.

“No coffee?”

“I’m not keen on coffee.”

“Okay, bag-out tea. Sugar?”

“No thanks,” she says, staring down at her fingers.

“Anything to eat?”

“No thank you.” She shakes her head and tosses her hair over her shoulder, highlighting glints of auburn.

I have to wait in line while the two matronly women behind the counter exchange inane pleasantries with all their customers. It’s frustrating and keeping me from my objective: Tiffany.

“What can I get you?” the older woman asks with a twinkle in her eye. It’s just a pretty face, sweetheart.

“I’ll have a coffee with steamed milk. English Breakfast tea. Teabag on the side. And a blueberry muffin.”

Tiffany might change her mind and eat.

“You visiting Incheon?”

“Yes.”

“The weekend?”

“Yes.”

“The weather sure has picked up today.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you get out to enjoy some sunshine.”

Please stop talking to me and hurry the up.

“Yes,” I hiss through my teeth and glance over at Tiffany, who quickly looks away.

She’s watching me. Is she checking me out?

A bubble of hope swells in my chest.

“There you go.” The woman winks and places the drinks on my tray. “Pay at the register, honey, and you have a nice day, now.”

I manage a cordial response. “Thank you.”

At the table Tiffany is staring at her fingers, reflecting on heaven knows what.

Me?

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.

She jumps and turns red as I set out her tea and my coffee. She sits mute and mortified. Why? Does she really not want to be here?

“Your thoughts?” I ask again, and she fidgets with the teabag.

“This is my favourite tea,” she says, and I revise my mental note that it’s Twinings English Breakfast tea she likes. I watch her dunk the teabag in the teapot. It’s an elaborate and messy spectacle. She fishes it out almost immediately and places the used teabag on her saucer. My mouth is twitching with my amusement. As she tells me she likes her tea weak and black, for a moment I think she’s describing what she likes in a woman.

Get a grip, Jessica. She’s talking about tea.

Enough of this preamble; it’s time for some due diligence in this deal. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Her brows knit together, forming a small v above her nose.

“Who?”

This is a good response.

“The photographer. Kim Taeyeon.”

She laughs. At me.

At me!

Her eyesmile are ridiculously amazing. Maybe this is the best eyesmile in the universe.

I don’t know if it’s from relief or if she thinks I’m funny. It’s annoying. I can’t get her measure. Does she like me or not? She tells me she’s just a friend.

Oh, sweetheart, she wants to be more than a friend.

“Why did you think she was my girlfriend?” Tiffany asks.

“The way you smiled at her, and she at you.” You have no idea, do you? The girl is smitten.