"Okay, so that's the Big Dipper,"I said, pointing. "See how it looks like a ladle? And below it is the Little Dipper. And under that, the little one that looks like a crown? That's Cassiopeia."

Jongsuk turned his head to the side, and I felt his hair brush my cheek. "And what about that one?"

"Which one?"

He lifted his arm, moving a finger in a circle. "That clump there, at the bottom."

"I have no idea."

He moved again to face me. "I thought you said you knew this stuff."

"Some of it," I said, facing him as well. "Okay, I know those three."

He laughed, that sudden burst was worth more staring up close. "And here I thought you could get us home strictly by celestial navigation."

"Nope. We'd be screwed," I giggled. "Sorry."

"Hey, at least you can name a few. I've always just made  up my own."

"Your own constellations?"

"Sure. It's like inkblots. You can tell a lot about a person by what they see in the sky." He laid down again. "Take that weird square, over there. I'd called that Dented Box."

"It just doesn't have class as Cassiopeia."

"But it's clear on what it is." He pointed again. "Okay, and that one, on the left? That's Spoon."

Now that I looked, I could sort of see the resemblance. "So what does it say about you so far it's all household items that you see?"

"I'm glad you asked," he said, and I smiled, already recognizing this as a classic Jongsuk expression. "I think it speaks of my domesticity. Also, lack of imagination."

"What about that one?" I asked, lifting my finger to point.

He didn't hesitate. "Large Pot."

"And that one, the cluster by the Big Dipper."

"Electrocardiogram."

"Wha . . . that's not a household item."

"Maybe not in your house."

This time, I laughed, and as I did, he reached up, taking my finger and pulling it toward him. I shifted my grip, interlocking my hand with his as he placed it on his chest, then curled up against him.

After the dance - sweet, awkward, perfect - we'd walked along the end of the world, through the moving tides. It was then he'd taken my hand effortlessly. A stretch of dark, damp sand later, we found ourselves on a boardwalk and the lights appeared in the distance, we both stopped walking.

"Not yet," he said, and I knew exactly what he meant. We sat down and started looking at the stars.

I'd always been nervous around guys. I wasn't like Gayeon, coming alive when meeting the opposite , the very presence of a guy causing the glow in her to brighten. Instead, I was always nervous, too aware of the particulars. The mechanics of a hand on mine, or an arm over my shoulder. The way my lips fit his in a kiss, specifics of salvia and tongue as if I was being graded on form. The passion and attraction I saw in movies or red about in books seemed impossible to me, entirely too put into details.

From the start, Jongsuk was different. I felt so comfortable with him. Even just standing near him, there at the waves, I'd wanted to lean in closer. It was the same way I felt now, as he reached his free hand to smooth back my hair. When he kissed me, I thought of nothing but how he tasted.

For the rest of the night, in my memory anyway, we were always in contact. My hand in his, his arm over my shoulder. The easy way he cupped my waist to pull me against him as we lay there in the sand, and later, crossed length of the empty beach. We walked for an hour, maybe longer, talking the entire time, before we finally reached the boardwalk.

Everything seemed bright and different after so long in the darkness, even though most of the businesses were closed. There was one neon sign lit, however, in the window of a store.  COFFEE AND MUFFIN, it read. Two bikes were parked outside.

I looked at Jongsuk. "We have to," he said, answering the question I hadn't asked. I shook the sand out of my shoes, then dropped them onto the boards. My hair felt wild as I tried to smooth it, my lips raw from kissing. When I looked up at him, I saw sand along his temple.

"Hold on," I said, reaching up. As I did, he lowered his head, leaning into my fingers. It was such a simple moment, but later, when I'd think of it, I would cry until my chest ached. The big moments with Jongsuk weren't, well, big. Instead, it was these small gestures that I clung to in order to hold on to him. It was why, now, I was never able to tell this story all at once. My memory fractured in certain places, wanting to just stop right there. On the boardwalk, in the light of the neon sign. His head dipped down as I pulled my fingers through his hair. Sand falling to the boards. That night still in progress, with daylight hours away.