The light was blinking on Chanyeol’s phone when he got home. He scowled at it, tossing up whether he really needed to check messages at this time of night. It might be another annoying tirade from his father. Then again, it could be about a job…

He pressed the button.

“Chanyeol, it’s Iseul. I’m sorry. I’ve just remembered I’m not free tomorrow evening. I have this weekly commitment. I don’t know how I forgot, but it completely slipped my mind. I thought I’d better let you know straight away—save you making plans and having to cancel. Maybe another time?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. What was this about? The first of Iseul’s avoidance tactics? He pressed his fingers against his closed lids and couldn’t believe how disappointed he felt. If he wasn’t careful he could make a fool of himself over this girl. Maybe he already had.

Jaw clenched, he picked up the phone. If she offered some lame excuse for cancelling their date, he would have no more to do with her. There was a limit. He dialled her number. “Iseul,” he said abruptly the minute she answered.

“Is that you, Chanyeol?” She sounded sleepy and he pictured her in bed in something pale and silky.

His heart thudded heavily. “I—I just got your message.”

“I’m really sorry I can’t make it tomorrow night.”

“So you said.” His face twisted in a grimace. Flopping into a lounge chair, he drew a steadying breath before he spoke again. “I guess this is a busy time of the year.”

“It’s not a party, Chanyeol. I would have invited you to come with me if it was something straightforward. I’m sorry, I should have remembered about tomorrow night.”

She hesitated and then said, “I wasn’t thinking too clearly when you left.”

Chanyeol supposed she had a point. They’d both been a tad distracted.

“I—I teach swimming on Wednesday nights.”

“Swimming?” It was the last thing he’d expected.

“Yes—to street kids.”

Street kids! Momentarily, Chanyeol was shocked into silence. His brain had been churning up possibilities. Iseul attended a yoga class on Wednesday nights, or an art class, had her legs waxed—but swimming lessons for street kids! That one had slipped right under the radar!

But perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised. Her bike ride through the Himalayas had raised money for street kids. No doubt this was another clue to the real Iseul, the woman below the surface, the woman he wanted to discover.

“Well, that’s fine. It’s a great idea,” he said, trying for a balance between sounding interested but not too nosy. “I bet the kids love their lessons.”

“They do.” She sounded relieved, happy that he approved. “It’s a fairly low-key thing, but you’d be surprised how seriously they take their swimming. There are just three of them and they have fun, of course, but it’s more than just fun. They really put an effort into practising their breathing and their . Swimming gives them confidence, helps their self-image, I guess. And it’s another important life skill, of course.”

“I think it’s a fantastic thing to do, Iseul.” Leaning back in the chair, he grinned at the ceiling, absurdly happy.

“Afterwards we usually go to a hamburger joint. Actually…” She hesitated.

“Yes?”

“This probably sounds crazy, Chanyeol.”

“Try me.”

“Feel free to say no, but I wondered if you’d like to join us. For hamburgers.”

Without hesitation he said, “I would. I’d like that. Very much.”

“A friend of mine is going to join us tonight,” Iseul warned Minhyuk, Jun and Rina the next evening as they walked from the pool to the nearest hamburger joint. Twelve-year-old Jun scowled at her suspiciously. “Who is he?”

“A really nice guy. His name’s Chanyeol.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” asked Rina, a shy, too thin girl of thirteen.

Iseul was about to say no. How could she presume so much? But these three would mistrust a stranger. “Yes, he’s my boyfriend. And I’m very keen on him, so I don’t want you guys to stuff this up for me.”

Rina smirked, Jun rolled his eyes and grinned, but Minhyuk hung back, hands plunged in pockets, and kicked at an empty can, sending it spinning into the gutter. “Maybe I won’t bother with hamburgers tonight,” he said. “I’m not hungry.”

Iseul knew this wasn’t true. Minhyuk was always ravenous. But he wasn’t prepared to trust a stranger.

“Tell you what,” she said, remembering Chanyeol’s enthusiasm last night when she’d told him about her involvement with these kids. “I reckon, if you play your cards right, Chanyeol would teach you how to ride his surfboard.”

“I already know how to ride a board,” scoffed the boy, but they all knew this was a bald-faced lie. Minhyuk was the weakest swimmer of the three.

“Would he teach me?” Jun’s brown eyes shone up at Iseul from beneath dark, tangled curls, still damp from swimming. He was fifteen months younger than Minhyuk and the rivalry between the two was fierce.

“I’ll ask him. He’s a top competitor. You’d be lucky, Jun.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Minhyuk’s face tighten.

They were close to the café now and Chanyeol was waiting outside, standing beneath a neon sign that sent r