I'm doing this. I've got the day off, and I heading toward Tuan's Tours booth. It's eerily gray and foggy this morning. So foggy, it's nearly noon and I still can't see much. This is okay by me. Fewer tourists walking around. It's like I have the boardwalk to myself.

So what I've changed my mind twice? I'm really doing it this time. I mean, come on. It's V. At least, I hope it's V. And if it is, I'll know, because I know him. I should, shouldn't I? I've been talking to him online for months. We're practically soulmates. Okay, maybe that's a little much, but we're at least friends or something. We have a bond that stretches beyond our common interest.

Then there's the whole Taehyung situation. After the cops came and picked up the thieving kids yesterday - two officers, not appa's Sergeant Gonzalez - Taehyung was involved in paperwork to do with all that, so I didn't really see him again which is good, because all these crazy feelings I was feeling about him . . . they were just a side effect of adrenaline and elation over capturing those two boys.

Anyway, I'm not thinking about Taehyung Kim right now. I'm especially not thinking about his fingers twined through mine after the victory high five. That's banned from my head. As if to underscore the matter, a low foghorn bellows offshore, making me jump.

I clear Taehyung from my head and continue walking. The pink and orange of the Tuan logo appears. Man, if this is really V's family, I already see why he hates working here. The business is located between two others, Beaches Bike Rentals, and the booth that sell tickers to the Ferris wheel. I hover by the bike rental place until I spot Mark's red-ish hair.

He's working. And it looks like he's alone.

I wait while he points someone down the boardwalk, giving them directions through the fog somewhere, then before I can lose my nerve again, I talk three long steps and slow near the bench outside the ticketing window. A couple of seagulls scatter when I approach.

"Hi," I say. "Remember me?"

"From IHOP," he says. He's wearing an orange Windbreaker and shorts. His hair are cropped shorted than they were in the diner, and the morning breeze is blowing his hair across his eyes. "I never forget a fashion guru and a GOT7 fan. But I do forget names. Remind me . . . ?"

I'm sort of crushed. "Suzy."

He snaps his fingers. "Suzy, that's right. Mark," he says, extending his hand, and I pretend that I didn't remember his name either as I shake it.

Now I've got to play it cooler than I planned, so I say, "I was just taking a walk, seeing if there were any used-DVD stores on the boardwalk." I know there's one. I've already been inside it three times. "And then I saw you, and I thought, Hey, maybe that guy would know." Ugh. So awkward, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, there's a little place called Video Town, right in the middle of the boardwalk. Giant Camera outside. Hard to miss."

Aish. This is going to be harder than I thought. Didn't I give him a hint online last night? Unless this really isn't V . . .

"So, do you get a break here any time soon? Maybe you'd want to browse some DVDs with me?" I hear myself saying. "You mentioned getting coffee, but, you know . . ." My voice getting smaller and smaller.

Come on. If this is really V, surely he'll remember me dropping the horoscope hint last night . . . won't he? I mean, he's always so attentive online. He remembers everything I say. Always gets my jokes, even remembers punch lines to gags from months ago. but now he can't even remembers my actual name? Maybe it really was a good idea that I didn't tell him I was moving out here, after all.

Hesitating, he leans over the counter and looks one way, then the other, looking into the fog. "All right. yeah, sure. Why not. Business is slow. The current tour won't be back for a bit, so I guess I can take thirty. Hold on, let me close the gate and put up the sign."

I let out a long breath.

He jumps off his stool and reaches above his head to pull down a rolling metal shutter over the window, disappearing for a few seconds. When he reappears through a door on the side, he's got a BE RIGHT BACK! sign, which he hangs on the window.

"Okay, Suzy. Let's go," he says with an inviting smile.

Feeling better, I follow him, and we make our way to the boardwalk. He asks me polite questions - how long have I been in town? Where am I from? Oh, Seoul. Have I been to the shopping districts? Visited big companies?

By the time we get to the giant camera sign, the only thing I've been able to ask him is how long he's lived in Monetery (all his life), and where he goes to school - Monetery Academy. The private school. This throws me off guard. I never thought of V as a private-school kind of guy. I'm trying to figure this out as we step inside the store.

Video Town has one of those great dusty-musty smells that come with old stores, though most of their inventory doesn't date back more than a few years. They have sci-fi movies, action movies, rom-coms, etc. Hence why appa loves this place. A few movie-related collectible posters and toys lined the walls around the register, behind which hangs a TV where a Golden Eye movie is playing. Two middle-aged men are paying more attention to the movie than to us when we walk past, thank goodness, because I was just in here with appa a couple of days ago, and I don't want them to recognize me.

The store is busier than I expected - not exactly the best place for a quiet, romantic get-to-know-you date, but what can I do now? It's all I have to work with. We walk past oversize boxes and a rack of upcoming Blu-ray DVDs available for pre-order, and I try to pretend like I don't know where I'm going as Mark leads me to the Classics section. 

"They don't have a lot of stuff right now," he tells me, turning the corner around a rack of shelves. "I was just here yesterday. But check this out." He grabs something off a shelf and hands it to me. "Boxed set of classic gangster films from the 1930s. So cool."

I accept the box and look at the back. "I'm not a huge fan of gangster movies."

"Are you kidding? American Gangster? The 1932 version of Scarface? That was insanely violent for its time."

"Yeah," I drawl, handing him back the box. "Not a big gun fan."

"Oh," he says, reshelving it. "One of those, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

He holds up both hands. "Hey, whatever you're into is fine. No argument from me. I just think movies are movies, and that you shouldn't paste your political views onto a piece of art."

Aish. This isn't going well. I take deep breath and pause for a moment. Maybe this is my fault? I don't really think so, but I try to the be the bigger person. "it's not that. I had a bad personal experience, so it's just . . . kind of a thing for me. Just not my cup of tea."

"Oh. Man," he says, resting a sympathetic hand on my shoulder - just the tips of his fingers, actually. "I'm so sorry. I assumed. I'm being a jerk. Forgive?"

"Forgotten," I smile.

"Oh, what about The Foreigner? Everyone loves that."

Is he being serious? I mean, I love Jackie Chan, but I can't watch the action, it isn't the same. I tell him so. His argument isn't as strong for this one, but he's still disbelieving that I'm not into the movie.

This is so weird. Our movie mojo is off. Yeah, we disagree online (all the time), but it's all good natured. In person, it feels so . . . personal. We go through all the classics section, shelf by shelf, but nothing seems to click. It's like we're completely different people, and the longer we're testing each other's tastes, the less we're liking each other. I'm starting to sweat in weird places and make awkward flirty jokes that don't land.

This is not going well.

The worst part is that he notices too.

"Sometimes they have more stuff in the back," he finally says after we haven't spoken in minutes. "Let me go ask Kevin if they've gotten anything new in. Be right back."

Great. Now I'm worried that he's giving me the slip. The first time I get up the nerve to ask a guy out on a date - a guy I've been fantasizing about for months - and it goes wrong. If he doesn't come back in one minute, I'm seriously considering sneaking out myself.

"Rush Hour is an overrated movie."

I freeze. No one's around. I look down the aisle in both directions. Did I just imagine that? Or did someone overhear Mark and me talking from before, and now I'm overhearing another conversation?

"It's not supposed to be an romance movie, you know. Which is the ironic thing in this particular situation, actually."

"Hello?" I whisper.

A DVD moves aside. I'm not staring at a pair of eyes. Someone's in the other side. I move another DVD and reveal more of the face through the shelves: define jaws, slow grin, wild, silverish-blond hair. Taehyung. My hand clenches. "What are you doing here?"

"it's my day off."

"And you're following me around?" I say, exasperated.

"No, you're following me around. I was in here when you walked in with Mark Tuan on your arm."

I stand on tiptoes to look over the top shelves. He raises his head to meet me and raises both brows, a smug look on his face. My heart starts pounding. Why does he have this effect on me? Can't my body just be normal around him?

"How do you know him?" I whisper, looking around to make sure Mark isn't listening.  I don't spot him, so I guess he's either in back or has left.

Taehyung casually rests an arm on the top of the video rack. "I've known him since we were kids. He thinks he's a movie expert because his family is one of the local companies that sponsors the annual summer festival. They rented idols from around the world to perform. This year, they got Blackpink to come, big whoop."

Wait one minute. Big warning bells ding in my head. I definitely think V would've mentioned if his family sponsored the festival. That's something you'd brag about to your online friend, Forbidden Zone personal-detail restrictions aside. No way he would keep that from me. This is all wrong. But I don't think Taehyung is lying, because now I'm remembering when Mark gave me the summer festival brochure: "hot off the presses," he said. He got an early copy of it because his dad's a festival sponsor? It's still in my purse, and I'm fighting everything not to pull it out and scan the sponsor page for the Tuan name.

Inside, I'm quietly panicking that Mark isn't V, but all I can say to Taehyung is, "Oh, and you know better." It's a weak tuant, but my heart isn't into it.

"I know that you're right about Rush Hour," he responds. "The romance between Jackie and Chris is what Hollywood turned it into a romance. And don't get me started on Stucky. That was an embarrassing shambles. But . . ."

"But what?"

"I still think it's worth watching for Jackie Chan's performance. What? Don't look so shocked. It was my grandma's favorite movie/ You don't know everything about me."

Apparently, I know nothing. Who are you, Taehyung Kim?

"And I'm not sure if you know everything about your date -"

"Aish, do you have to talk so loud?" I whisper. "He's not my date." Not at this rate, anyway.

"Whatever he is, I'm telling you this because I hate to see you wasting all that flirt material on someone who doesn't appreciate it." He leans across the rack, beckoning me closer. "Mark has a boyfriend in Korea."

My eye twitches. I blink. Stare at Taehyung.

Hoy moly . . . I think back to when I first met Mark in IHOP, and him talking about gay romances references. Mark hesitating when I asked him to come here today. If I had let him talk instead of running my nervous mouth, he'd probably have been seconds away of telling him he's gay.

I don't say a word. I just slowly sink back down onto the flats of my feet, the top of Taehyung's face disappearing from my view. I straighten my dress and turn, resigned, adding up my tally of humiliations for the morning. (1) My so-called date is a bust. (2) I'm a loser who can't tell straight from gay. (3) I'm no closer to finding V than I was weeks ago when I first came to town. (4) Taehyung witnessed the whole thing.

Mark is walking toward me. "Nothing new in the storeroom," he says. His eyes darts to the second aisle, where Taehyung emerges from a section marked ASIAN DRAMAS. he's dressed in olive-green shorts and a button-down shirt with a blue scarf tied around his neck. His hair is a bit messy and sunglasses hang on his ear backwards. His eyes connects with mine and sticks for a second, which does something funny to my pulse.

"Oh hey, Taehyung," Mark says cheerfully. "How's Eunjin? Heard she was hitting the pros."

"Yes she is," Taehyung says, all lazy and casual. Still looking at me.

Mark's eyes flit back and forth from Taehyung and me, like he's suspicious we've been talking behind his back. Great. Now I feel guilty on top of being humiliated. "Hey, Suzy, it's been fun, but my dad texted, so I probably should get back to work. Coffee sometime?"

He seems to mean it, surprisingly, and it hits me for the first time that, unlike me, he never thought this was a date. He just assumed we were two like-minded people hanging out. Does that make me an even bigger jerk if I walk away from this never wanting to see him again because he prefers another man's part instead of my lady parts? I decide yeah, it does. Add that to my never-ending list of major malfunctions.

"Coffee would be great. Or tea," I amend. "You want my number? Maybe we can catch some of the summer festival together, or something."

"Sure," he says, smiling, and we head to the front of the store together, exchanging numbers, before he waves good-bye, heads off into the fog, and leaves me outside with a tiny scrap of my dignity intact.

I should probably message V - just to feel things out, make sure he knows nothing about this situation. But at the same time, maybe I need to clear my head first. I wanted to find V so badly that I jumped to conclusions about Mark and ignored good sense. That was a stupid mistake, but I don't want to beat myself up about it too much. I just . . .

I don't know what I want anymore, honestly.

"You okay?"

Taehyung stands next to me. The door to Video Town swings shut behind us.

I let out a sigh. "Yeah, I'm . . . just having a really bad day. It must be the fog."

"Can't be that," he says. "Foggy days are the best."

I wait for the punchline, but it never comes. He looks down at my knee; it's scabbed over from yesterday's takedown of the Blasian falcon thieves, but I was too vain to wear a Band-Aid today.

"I thought California was supposed to be sunny all the time?" I tell him. "Foggy days are depressing."

"Nah. They're kind of magical."

"Magical," I repeat dismally, not believing him.

"What, is magic too low for you?"

"Don't start with me today," I say, more weary than frustrated, but if he goes much further, I can't promise that won't change. "Do you enjoy picking fights with people?"

"Just you."

I search his face, unsure if he's teasing. "You fight with Yoongi all the time."

"Not true. He never fights back."

"So that's what you like?" I ask. "Someone who fights back?"

"Everyone enjoys a little witty banter now and then."

Is that a compliment? I can't tell.

He shrugs one shoulder. "Maybe I do like someone who fights back. It's a mystery, even to me. I'm just an beach bum? Who knows what goes on inside this simple brain of mine?"

Ouch. Awkward. Some part of me wonders if I should apologize for that, but then I remember all the things he said to me.

A long moment stretches.

"Ever ridden a Ferris Wheel in the fog?" he suddenly asks. "Oh! What about aerial lifts?"

"Um, I don't do amusement park rides."

"Why?"

"They always break down and the seats are sticky."

Taehyung laughs. "Jeez, Suzy. What kind of busted rides do they have overseas?" He shakes his head in mock disapproval and sighs. "Well, just because I feel sorry for your pitiful amusement park ride education, I suppose I'll take you on the Bees."

"The Bees?"

"The Bees. Buzzz." He grabs my arm, urging me toward him as he walks backward, smiling that boxy, y smile of his. "Those wires with the chairlifts that are painted like bumblebees? The ones that take people up the cliff of the beach? You board them next to the big golden wheel on the boardwalk with the shiny lights? Get to know you new town, Bae. Come on."