I don't work with Taehyung for the next few shifts. Anna, either, which bums me out. The museum sticks me with some older lady, Maria, who's in her twenties and has problems counting her cash fast enough. She's slowing down the line and it's driving me crazy. Crazy enough to march up to Mr. Lopez's office, peer around the corner . . . and then just change my mind and clock out for the day instead of saying anything.

That's how I roll.

One morning, instead of walking along the boardwalk, entering and exiting shops from shops, stuffing my face with churros, I beat Appa in two rounds of miniature golf. He took a half day off from work to hang with me, which was pretty nice. He gave me the choice of either the golf or jet-skiing - and in no way was I dipping my toe in the ocean after hearing Taehyung's story of the sea. Nuh-uh. I told Appa the whole story, and he was a little freaked himself. He said he'd seen Taehyung's dad outside the surf shop and knew the family were surfers, but just assumed the missing-arm incident had happened a long time ago. He had no idea how it actually happened, or that Taehyung rescued him.

See. Only ten days in town, and I was already filling Appa in on the choice gossip he hadn't heard, living here for an entire year. the man needs me, clearly.

My reward for spanking Appa's behind in golf is that I get to pick our lunch location. Since we grabbed a light breakfast before our golf excursion. I decided for lunch at IHOP. The theme of the diner got the 1950s vibe, we grab a seat at the counter, where a waitress in a pink uniform bring us glasses of iced water while we wait for our orders. My dreams have finally come true! Only, they haven't, because IHOP doesn't exactly live up to my expectations, not even their "wold-famous" nutmeg pancakes, which I give a thumbs down.

When I told my rating to Appa, he took a bite of my order. "Tastes like Christmas."

"Like those nutmeg cookies Halmeoni used to make."

"The gross one," he agrees. "You should've ordered a Blueberry Deluxe. Taste mine. It's delicious."

His is way better, but it's no churro.

"Still haven't find him, huh?" he asks, and I know he's talking about V. I told him the basics, that I'm shy about confessing to V that I've moved out here, and that I'm trying to find him on my own. Appa and I are a lot alike in many (unfortunate) ways. He gets it. Eomma wouldn't. Eomma would've freaked her pants off if she knew V even existed in the first place, so there's that. But Eomma didn't really pay attention to anything going on with my life in Seoul, so it wasn't like I went to any trouble to hide him. And now that I'm here, I notice that she still isn't all that concerned, as I have yet to receive any communication from her since Did Suzy arrive okay? phone calls. Whatever. I try not to think about her lack of concern too much.

From my purse, I take out a tourist map of the boardwalk. it's just a drawing that I picked up for free one morning. I'm using a marker to X out the shops that I've either went to or that don't fall into the parameters that V has provided me - can't see the ocean from the window, not a shop with a counter, etc. "This is what's left to cover," I tell Appa, pointing the sections of the map I haven't been to.

Appa smiles and laughs, shaking his head. I try to snatch the map away, but he holds it against the diner counter, moving aside the plate with his Blueberry Deluxe. "No, no. Let me see this marvelous thing. You're thorough and precise."

"Ugh," I complain. "Weirdo."

"Mwo? This is quality CPA blood running in your veins, right here," he says proudly, thumping the map like a dork. "Wait, how do you know he just wasn't working in one of these places on the day you went by? Or unloading a truck out in the alley?"

"I don't, but I figure I'll hit every shop twice." I show him my homemade legend on the corner of the map. Dots for even-day visits, squares for odd. Male symbol for a boy my age working there - but ruled out as possibility for V upon initial assessment. Triangles for churro cart locations. And wavy lines for all three stray boardwalk cats I've found so far, including Mister Mister.

He puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses the side of my head. "With superior deductive skills like this, how could you not find him? And if he's not worth the hunt, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I knew I liked you."

"You kind of have to," he says with a smile.

I smile back.

Someone walks over to the counter, and Appa leans forward to look past me. His face goes all funny. He clears his throat. "Good morning, Sergeant Gonzalez."

Waiting for a waitress to take her order is a tall, curvy Mexican cop in a cop uniform. Wavy hair, ombre from brown to blond, is pulled tight into a ponytail. A pair of dark purple sunglasses sits on her face. I recognize those: She's the cop who flashed her lights at RM and Taehyung at the crosswalk, the first day I got into town.

"Morning, Namjoon," she says in a husky voice. One corner of lifts. Just slightly. Then her face turns unreadable. I think she's looking down at me, but it's hard to tell, especially with the sunglasses on. "Blueberry Deluxe?" she says.

"You know it," appa answers, and laughs in an odd way.

I look between them. Appa clear his throat again. "Jacqueline, this is my daughter, Suzy. Suzy, this is Sergeant Jacqueline Gonzalez of the Monetery Police Department."

Like I couldn't figure that out. She smiles and sticks out her arm to offer me a firm handshake. Wow. Very firm. I'm awake now. And I'm not sure, but I think she might be uncomfortable. Do cops get nervous? I didn't think that was possible.

"Heard great things about you, Suzy." She has? Who the heck is this and why hasn't Appa mentioned her? Are they friends?

"I do the sergeant's taxes," Appa explains, but it sounds like a lie, and both of them are looking in different places - him at the counter and her at the ceiling. When her head tilts back down, she taps her fingernails on the counter. I glance at the gun holstered to her hip. I don't like guns; they make me uncomfortable, so I guess we're even.

"I like your brows," she finally says. "Natural and glamorous."

I'm caught off guard for a second. Then I'm pleased. "I do them myself," I tell her. Finally someone who appreciates the importance of a brow. Plucking is painful.

"Impressive," she confirms. "So, how are you liking California?"

"It's a different planet." I realize that might not sound positive, so I add, "I like the environment and the churros."

That makes her smile. Almost. She lifts her chin toward appa. "Have you taken her to the posole truck?"

"Not yet," he says. "She's never had posole. Have you?" he asks, giving me a questioning look.

"No clue what you're talking about."

She let out a sigh and shakes her head like Appa has let down his entire country. "I've got a messed-up schedule right now, but sometime in the next couple of weeks, we should take her."

We? Take her? They are a we?

"It will blow your mind," Appa assures me while the cop places a to-go order with the waitress. He stands and fumbles with his wallet. "That reminds me . . . Suzy, give me a second. I need to talk to the sergeant about something." He hands me a wad of cash to pay for our check and then walks with the cop down the counter, where they lean a little closer, but don't seem to be talking about anything all that important. That's when it comes into focus.

Omo. Appa's dating a cop.

She seems nice. has a great handshake. Pretty hot. The same height as him. Hope she likes him as much he likes her, because he's smiling like an idiot. Then I hear her quietly laughing at something he says, and see her push her purple glasses up to rest on top of her head and that makes me feel better.

As I wait for the CPA-cop meeting to come to an end, I pack up my boardwalk map and look around the diner. Without appa's body blocking the view, I now notice the person who's been sitting on the stool adjacent to his. It's a boy about my age with dark red hair. He's eating eggs and drinking coffee. When he moves his arm, I see two things: (A) He's wearing a GUESS T-shirt, and (B) he's reading a guide to the summer fashion festival.

My heart picks up speed as my gaze scan him. He's eating slowly, engrossed in his reading, taking small bites of scrambled eggs. His shorts reveal thin legs. Worn Vans against the counter's metal footrest as his knee bounces. The pink-and-orange keychain sitting next to his plate is printed with a familiar logo that I've seen before on the boardwalk: Tuan's Tours. That's not by definition a retail shop, but it is storefront along the boardwalk that has a view of the ocean. one with a counter, and possibly a family-owned business. I mentally take out my map and place the shop about three stores away from a churro cart. No resident cat, but then again, cats are moving.

Could it be . . . ?

My brain is telling me to slow down, but my heart is thinking, Oh My Gosh!

He's cute. But he's not Taehyung.

Ah, what's wrong with me? Who cares about stupid old Taehyung, anyway? I push him out of my mind and focus on what's in front of me, try to match it to the V I have in my mind. Could this guy be witty? Sensitive? He looks well-groomed. Are serial killers well-groomed?

This is harder than I thought it would be. I pull myself together and remember that if it is V, he doesn't know who I am. To him. I'm just a girl sitting in a diner. I'm not Giant Maknae. Deep breath.

"Guess," I say.

He looks up from the brochure. "Excuse me?"

"Your shirt," I explain. "The brand GUESS. One of the famous American brand, if I'm not mistaken." I'm not. I'm totally showing off. What a total geek I am, but I can't help myself.

His head drop. He smiles now, and he's got a great smile. "yes. You're the second person ever to recognize that, and I've been wearing this for almost a year." His voice isn't what I imagined. Sharper, somehow. but still good."

"I'm a fan of their clothing line," I say. "I love all fashion brands from America to European." I cleared my throat. "And Limited Edition: GUCCI, of course," I add, dangling like the bait that it is."

"Everyone loves GUCCI," he agrees.

Huh. Can't tell is he's being droll or sarcastic. Then again, V has a superior sense of humor. Hard to tell.

he thinks for a moment, then says, "If I had to pick one, it would be Adidas. Since GOT7 endorse them."

"Seriously? I love them too," I say. "Jinyoung and Jaebum are my bias, but everyone is talented."

"JJ Project," he agrees, smiling.

"I've seen the dance practice they did a hundred times."

"Mark, by the way," he says, and it takes me a second to realize her's introducing himself.

Mark. Huh. Not V, but Mark? Of course, we aren't using our real names online, so that means nothing. More important, does this feel right? I honestly can't tell, but my pulse is racing, so if that's any indication, maybe that's a yes? and he still doesn't know to connect the Me sitting here with the Online Me, so I guess it's okay to give out my real name now. Besides, appa's a few feet away, not to mention a cop with a badass handshake.

"I'm Suzy," I say, then decide to add, "I'm new here."

"Cool. Nice to meet another fashion guru and Kpopper." He slides the summer festival brochure toward me. "We have a summer festival every year with different fashion brands show their limited clothing lines. This year's lineup is okay. A few good things, like BlackPink performing and GUCCI."

Heart. Pounding. So. Fast.

"I would love to see all of those," I squeak out in a higher voice than Anna's.

"Right?" he says, grabbing his keys and gesturing toward the festival brochure. "Keep that. Anyway, got to get back to work. I'm at Tuan's Tours up on the boardwalk. Pink and Orange, down by the big Ferris wheel. Can't miss it. If you ever want to have coffee and chat more, come by and see me."

"I might take you up on that offer." I hate coffee, but whatever. it sounds so adult, so romantic. This is not a boy who'd get me fired or embarrass me in front of people. This boy is sophisticated. Going on Tours! That sounds so much nicer than surfing.

He raises a hand, a triangle of toast clamped in his mouth, and jogs out the door. 

I'm reeling. Seriously, truly reeling.

"Who was that?" appa murmurs over my shoulder, watching Mark get into what appears to some sort of Jeep.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure," I say. "But I think I'm getting warmer."