A couple of hours before my shift the next morning, sunlight is already breaking through the gray sky as I pull Eggie into a narrow alley behind Victory Boards Surf Shop. Taehyung's supposed to meet me here. He says his dad can fix the lock on my seat, since it appears that RM took a crowbar to it and screw up the lock. I'm nervous about meeting his dad. Really nervous.

This is a mistake. That's all I can think. I'm not sure how  he talked me into coming here right now, but I didn't really know what else to do about my bike.

Appa was not so happy when he got home last night from his 'vacation' and I told him the story of the stolen scooter. If only he knew the entire story, he'd have a heart attack - so, really, he's lucky to have a daughter who cares enough about the state of his ticker to make sure he only got the bare details he actually needed. And those details were as follows: The bike was stolen from Vogue's parking lot, but one heroic security guard, a Mr. Taehyung Kim, chased the unruly teens off the museum property, sustaining injuries in the process, and got my bike back. A shame that Taehyung couldn't identify the boys who took it, otherwise he would have filed a police report.

"It all happened so fast," I told him. "I'm glad he was there."

"he didn't see the thieves' faces?"

Ah . . . "It was raining. They hit him and took off running."

"I think we should tell Jacqueline."

"The museum security is taking care of it, Appa. Let them do their jobs, okay?"

Appa raised his hands. "All right, Giant Maknae. I'm just glad you're okay. And Anna knows someone in town who's going to help you get the seat fixed?"

Another lie. But it's necessary, because as great as appa is in a lot of ways, he's not handy. So he's fine with letting this mystery person handle it; he's even happy to lend me money for a new wheel lock. I don't deserve him.

 So that's what started the stress train. What kept the train chugging along the track was knowing I had to face Seokjin Kim, son of Jonghyun, survivor of the great white shark, father to the boy I made out with . . . and then went home last night and before I went to sleep did unspeakable things to myself under the covers while thinking about all that making out with a boy. Which is how teen pregnancies don't happen, I'm fairly certain.

Then, what sped the stress train up to full speed was getting those stupid messages from V this morning. Because it sounded like he doesn't want me to fly out here. I mean, of course I'm already out here, but he doesn't know that. What if I'd already bought a plane ticket? And why did he suddenly get so freaking busy, anyway? Did he meet another girl? Because it sure sounds that way to me.

I don't know why this bothers me so much. It's not like I'm not doing the same thing (hello, double standard). And we never promised to saved ourselves for each other. We might not even get along in real life. Isn't that why I was being so cautious in the first place, drawing out my map legend of the boardwalk and carefully tracking him down, just in case we weren't compatible?

It's just that nothing is working out like I'd planned. V and I have a connection - at least, we are online, but who knows about reality? On the other hand, Taehyung and I are similar in reality, yet we're also opposites. his life is pretty messy, and I don't like messy. been there, done that. It's why I left eomma and Minho LLC int he first place. And then there's the small, eensie-meensie detail that I'm not supposed to be anywhere near him, thanks to Jacqueline's police warnings, ugh. But that's part of the whole appeal, isn't it? Because being with Taehyung is crazy and exciting. And much like a great thriller film, I'm not sure who's going to end up dead by closing credits.

A dark blue van pulls up behind me and parks in a space marked for the surf shop. But it's not Taehyung's van. And it's not Taehyung driving - or riding, for that matter. Two people jumped out, both eying me with great curiosity. The first is Mr. Kim, wearing a lightweight coral Windbreaker, one sleeve sewed up, and the second is someone I recognize from pictures as Taehyung's sister, Eunjin. They're both slightly damp, and, I assume from he droplets of water on the boards strapped to the van, have just come from the beach.

"Hi," Eunjin says, chewing gum, super friendly and open. "You're Taehyung's girl."

Am I? This makes my chest feel weird. "I work with Taehyung," I say as she walks around the van. God, she moves just like him, slinky, like a cat. And she's wearing skintight long sleeves and shorts - whatever she's put on after getting out her wet suit, I guess, but she's built like Taehyung too. Not model-thin, but muscular. Solid and shapely.

"Eunjin," she says, joyfully chewing her gum.

"Suzy," I answer.

"Su-zy. Yeah, I remember now," she says, slowly smiling. She's young and pretty, no makeup, long ombre hair, black to blonde. Very laid-back. Open, like Taehyung. "He's talked and talked about you. Hey, appa, this is the scooter RM jacked."

Mr. Kim, who has completely ignored me up to this point, already has his hand on the back door to the shop. He looks at the scooter, then gives me a critical once-ocer. "You messing around with RM?" he says roughly. Not Taehyung. RM.

Shock washes over me. "N-no. God no."

"Because the last one was, and why did RM steal this if there isn't something going on?" He gives me a look like I think he's an idiot. "You expect me to believe my son comes home with his afce banged up for no reason? Like he's just some gangster, fighting in the streets? I raised him better than that."

"Appa," Eunjin says, sounding almost as humiliated as I feel. "He was defending her honor."

"Why did it need defending?" Now Mr. Kim is waving his arm at me, angry. "Why did RM steal this?"

"I don't know," I bark back at him , surprised at myself. "Maybe because he's a scumbag who thought he could make some quick cash. But I didn't encourage it. I don't even know him."

The door to the shop swings opens. Taehyung rushes out, breathless. He looks . . . awful. The cut on his cheek is dark red and swollen. The bump on his temple is now an ugly shade of blue and brown.

"Appa," he says. "This is Suzy Bae. Remember, I told you about fixing the scooter seat last night? Like that one you fixed before, Mr. Smith's."

Right now I'm wondering  how a one-armed man is going to fixed anything - and honestly, with his rude attitude, I don't think I want him to bother.

His father doesn't say anything for several seconds. Then he looks at me. "I don't know any Baes. Who are your parents?"

Before I can answer, Taehyung says, "I told you already. Her dad lives in the old McChristian place. He's an accountant. He's seeing Jacqueline Gonzalez. Suzy moved here in May, from South Korea."

"Oh, yeah. Sergeant Gonzalez. She's all right," his dad says, still gruff, but a little softer, like he only half believes Taehyung, but maybe he's thinking about considering believing him one day soon. And - proof! - just like that, the interrogation is over. "Get inside and help your mom," he tells Eunjin before turning to Taehyung. "Go get the toolbox out of the van. I'll also need the keys to her seat."

Mr. Kim isn't addressing  me. I am dismissed. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Pretty lousy, I think. Taehyung used to think I was too fancy for him, but now his dad thinks I'm not good enough to date his son? And what was all that business about him assuming I was seeing RM because "the last one" did? Is this Jennie girl Taehyung and RM were arguing about outside Deja Vu on the boardwalk? Man. This guy is a piece of work. When Taehyung describe him as a drill sergeant, he wasn't kidding. I think Taehyung dropping Jacqueline's name was the only thing that gave me a pass.

Coming here was definitely a huge mistake. I'm regretting it was so hard and wishing I could leave somehow, but I can't see a way out of it.

When I give Taehyung my scooter keys, he mouths, Sorry, to me and squeezes my hand, and just this tiny bit of skinship feels like when you wake up on the weekend and smell breakfast cooking: competely unexpected and delightful. One crummy kiss (okay, two - okay, AMAZING KISSES), and my body doesn't even care that Taehyung's dad hates my guts and I'm seconds away from a panic attack; it's too busy enjoying  all the actual, real, live tingles being generated  by surfer-boy touch. Not good. I'm so terrified his dad will see me react, all I do is drop his ahnd like a hot potato.

Coward that I am, I'm about 5 seconds away from turning heel and running down the alley, never to return again, so when Eunjin nods her head toward the shop, I'm already in such a state of confusion, I just follow her inside. Better than staying outside with the drill sergeant. Or Taehyung - who I might swoon over in front of his dad. I can't trust myself anymore: WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?

"Appa doesn't mean to come off like that," Eunjin says as we head through a storeroom filled with shelves of boxes. "He's just grumpy. I think he's in pain 24/7, but he'll die before he admits it. You ever hear about the whole phantom-limb thing?"

"Yeah," I say. Vaguely. Amputees come back from war and still feel their missing limbs.

"I've heard him tell Eomma that he still feels pain in the arm, even though it's not there. He has a lot of nightmares and stuff. He won't take pills or go see a doctor because he's scared of getting addicted. Our grandpa was an alcoholic. Appa doesn't want to turn into him."

I don't have time to process any of this before she pushes open another door and we're blinking into the sunlit windows of the surf shop. Redwood and brightly colored boards surrounds the walls; music plays from speakers hanging from the ceiling. It's not busy, but a few people mingle, looking at boards and wetwuits, chatting around displays of gear.

Funny, but this is one of the places that was closed for lunch every time I came by to mark it off my V map; either that or I got distracted, because my favorite churro cart is outside - I can see it from here, along with the waves slamming against the pier - and it's that churro cinnamon scent I smell now, mixed with Taehyung's lavender wax. It's a heavenly combination, almost . Definitely not something I want to think about when I'm meeting his family.

Eunjin snakes around the displays, cheerfully greeting customers, and heads back of the store. She leans over the counter and tugs on the arm of a creamy-skinned middle-aged woman with long dark hair. Eunjin pulls her away from a conversation, whispering in her ear. The woman is definitely beautiful, and definitely their mother. Like, whoa, crazy family resemblance. Mother and daughter look in my direction. Both of them smile.

"Hello," the mother calls out, coming around the counter to meet me. She's dressed in jeans and off-the-shoulder top. Unlike the rest of the family, she's not muscular and fit, but more on the soft side. Her hair is pulled behind one ear and hits above her chest. "I'm Taehyung and Eunjin's mother. You can call me Mrs. Kim or just Jisoo. Everyone does."

God, she's so pretty . . . so nice. Smiling so wide. It feels like a trap.

"Suzy," I tell her.

"Suzy Bae," she says, surprising me. "taehyung tells me you work with him at the Vogue."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Appa was super mean to her," Eunjin reports.

Mrs. Kim scrunches her nose. "I'm so sorry. He gets like that sometimes. The trick is to either play his junkyard dog game and show your teeth" - she imitates a snapping dog, which is kind of adorable - "or you do what I do and just ignore him."

"And don't let his big talk fool you," Eunjin says. "Eomma totally wears the pants in the family."

"That's right, baby." Mrs. Kim wraps her arms around her daughter. "How'd you do this morning? Find anything good to surf?"

"Nah, just paddled. Taehyung was right, as usual. Onshore winds were crumbling the waves." Eunjin looks at me and brightens. "You should come out with us one morning, watch us surf. Taehyung likes it when someone's there to cheer him on instead of Appa yelling at him."

Mrs. Kim nods, smiling. "And boy oh boy, would he show off for you, my dear. You tell him you want to come see him surf one morning when the waves are fine. He'd love that. Just say the word, and he'll be texting you weather reports at the crack of dawn."

"He's obsessed with weather," eunjin tells me.

"I know," I say too quickly, unable to stop myself.

They both smile back at  me like I've solved some big family secret code.

Mrs. Kim looks over Eunjin's head and raises a hand to a customer. "Hey, baby?" she says to Eunjin. "Can you do me a favor and help Mr. Dean?"

Eunjin makes a gagging noise. "Maybe when you start paying me an actual salary."

Mrs. Kim gives me a sheepish look. "Don't spread that around, okay? We're not forcing them into child labor; it's -"

"Technically, you sort of are," Eunjin mutters, giggling when her mother pinches her waist.

"- just that times are tight right now," Mrs. Kim finishes explaining.

"And Taehyung and I are the only ers in town who'll work for free," Eunjin adds. "I'll go help Mr. Dean, but only if you let me stay out an extra hour tonight."

"Half an hour, and go, go, go. He's got that pissy look on his face." Mrs. Kim turns toward the front door and makes an exasperated noise; someone' unloading a stack of boxes by the front door. "Deliveries go through the back. How many times do I have to tell that guy? Oh, Suzy, I have to take care of this, I'm sorry. I wanted to do girl talk with you. Stay here."

As she runs away to direct the delivery man, I watch Eunjin struggling to pull down a surfboard from a high-up rack, where it's stacked in the middle of several others. She's all muscle - no eyelash-batting doll - but it's hard work, and she's breathing heavy, shaking out her arm and joking that she nearly smashes her hand getting the board out. It strikes me that there's no one else working here. It just the four of them, running this place? And with Mr. Kim's limitations, that leaves all the physical stuff dumped on the mom and two kids, neither of whom are getting paid. And then Taehyung has to turn around and work full-time at the Vogue.

This really, really .

And what about when school starts in the fall, and when Eunjin and her dad go on the surfing tour? Is Mrs. Kim going to run the store by herself? How will Taehyung keep his grades up and help her and hold down his job at the Vogue?

My phone buzzes with a text. Surprisingly, it's from Mark, as in, Mark of Tuan's Tours and my broken gaydar: Hey. You free? Want to get coffee at IHOP? I've got new stuff from the film festival.

Well, what do you know? He doesn't think I'm a total loser after our "date" fail in the video store. Before I text back, the back door swings open and Taehyung walks in, a huge smile on his face. Delight rushes through me until I see his father behind him . . . then I freeze up. "Appa fixed the seat. You're good to go."

Mr. Kim hands me my keys without looking me in the eyes. I think. I'm not looking at him in the eyes either. This might work if we both keep avoiding each other. "Still dented," he mumbles, "and it might stick when you unlock it, but there's nothing  I can do about that."

"You'll just have to wiggle the key some and knock it your palm," Taehyung volunteers cheerily.

"Or take it somewhere to get it fixed professionally," Mr. Kim says. "but the worst problem you'll have is locking yourself out, so you might want to carry your helmet inside with you until you're more sure about it. And get a better wheel lock."

"I'm headed to buy one right now," I tell him. I scratch my hand, uncomfortable. "Thank you for doing this."

Looking away, he grunts and shrug his shoulder that doesn't have an arm. After a few more awkward silence, just when I think he might turn and leave without another word, he pins me with a hard stare and points a finger in my face. "You really want to thank me? Next time you see Namjoon Kim, you call me day or night and I'll finish what Taehyung started. That boy is stupid and dangerous, and he's obviously got you in his sights, so I'll tell you what I tell my own daughter: You stay away from him as best as you can, but if he comes anywhere near you, get your phone out and start dialing my number - you hear me?"

Um . . . ?

I feel the rattle of the weird, low note that escapes the back of my throat. He's sort of yelling at me again, but it's in a concerned-parent way, and I'm not sure, but I think he's offering to kick RM's for me now. I look at Taehyung for confirmation and he's smiling.

So very confused.

All I can do is nod. So I do, several times. This seems to meet Mr. Kim's approval. He nods back at me, also several times. And then he tells Taehyung to quit standing around and help his mom with the delivery that's now coming around to the back door. I watch him head toward Mrs. Kim, and I'm stunned.

"he likes you," Taehyung whispers near my ear, sending a small cascade of shivers over my skin. It freaks me out that he has that effect on me in public, especially when his family is across the store.

I find my voice and asks, "How can you tell?"

"For my dad, that was practically hugging and welcoming you into the family. he said you have grit."

Is this because I snapped at him outside? it's hard for me to think too hard about it, because Taehyung is linking his index finger with mine.

"Hey, Taehyung," a voice calls out.

I drop his finger and look up to see Mrs. Kim smiling sweetly from the door to the backroom, her hair haloed around her shoulders. "Aw, I'm sorry, kids," she says.

"You ladies met?" Taehyung asks.

"We did," she answers, "And Suzy's going to come watch you do your thing one morning."

Taehyung raises both brows and has a look on his face that's hard to read, like maybe he's embarrassed, but kind of happy, too. "Yeah?"

"If you want," I say.

"Yeah, maybe," he says. "You should come see Eunjin, for sure. If you can get up that early."

"yeah, maybe," I say, mimicking him. "I mean, I know nothing about tides and waves, and all that, so you'll have to alert me when and where it's going down."

Mrs. Kim gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign from the door and then quickly lowers her arm before Taehyung can see it. "Sounds like a plan to me," she says. "And I'm sorry to break this up, but I really need some help back here - Taehyung?"

"Sorry, work calls," he tells me.

I shake my head, dismissive. I've got to buy that new wheel lock before work. There's plenty of time for that, but he's clearly got stuff to do here, so I don't say that. I just tell him I'm busy too, thank him again, and ask him to thank his dad again, who has disappeared with Eunjin. Mrs. Kim waves good-bye over the top of a stack boxes when I leave through the back door.

I still have a couple of hours to kill before work, plenty of time to buy my new lock, so I text Mark back and make plans to meet up with him at IHOP as I test out my newly repaired seat lock. As I'm doing this, high up on the gutter of the roof, I catch a glimpse of white fur: a cat. Two cats, actually. It's my tabby from the churro cart, Mister Mister, and she's stalking a big, fluffy white cat. I laugh out loud - I can't help it - because it's just like that song. My Mister Mister has found her true love.

"Don't jump," I call out to Mister Mister. Both cats look down at me quizzically. "Trust me on this one, you'll only break your leg and die. That stupid white cat is not worth it. but if you jump, remember that during your funeral, the scent of fish will bring you back to life - or probably, in your case, the smell of churros."

Mister Mister plops down inside the gutter and starts her paw. She couldn't care less about my warning. Well, I tried. Somewhere on this boardwalk, I silently hop that Yeontan is living a smarter life than these two love cats, risking bodily harm on the roof . . . and then I remember V blowing me off.

"You know what? Screw it. You've got nice freaking lives," I call back up to the cats as I strap on my polka-dot helmet. "Live them a little."