You'd think that two people who maybe, just might like each other (sometimes) and who definitely, usually (almost always) work together would find some time - or any time, really - to be alone. If not for kissing, then at least for talking. But an entire week passed, and all I got from Taehyung after the visit to his family's surf shop was a daily greeting, a lot of smiling, and enough desperate across-the-lobby stares to fill up the entire museum.

Every day, I watched the bruises on his face lighten and his wound heal, but as they disappear, so does the memory of what happened between us, and I am feeling something akin to physical withdrawals. Sure, I received some texts from him during work hours. They include the following:

On a scale from 1 to Hades, how humid is the Hotbox today?

You should wear scandals to work more often. You feet are y. Maybe I'm the one with the foot .

I thought about sneaking out to your house last night, but I didn't want to risk getting you in trouble with your dad if I got caught.

I'm tired. Let's go take a nap together in the big teepee.

And when he texted me, I think I need medical care. Will you come nurse me again? I nearly fell off my stool in the ticket booth. but when I texted him back that I would be right there, his reply was: Sigh. I wish. Yoongi is sitting next to me. Awkward.

The boy is killing me. K-I-L-L-I-N-G.

Things were much simpler when we were archenemies.

"Sometimes I feel like Taehyung is Yoongi's nurse," I say under my breath.

Anna hands tickets through the window and mutes the microphone. "Know what I heard? That all that weed Yoongi vapers might actually be medical. The dude might have the big C."

I frown. "What? Cancer? Who told you that?"

"It's just a rumor going around. Don't know if it's true. You know how people talk. That girl Raven up in the cafe says she heard that he's been in remission for years, and that he just uses it as an excuse to get high. So who knows? He doesn't look sick to me."

Me either, but can you really tell? And it's not like I'm going to walk up and flat-out ask him. I hate rumors. It makes me sad that people are tlaking about Yoongi behind his back.

"What the hell is going on between you two, anyway?" Anna asks me as she adjusts the portable fan.

"Yoongi and me?"

She gives me a classic Anna eyeroll that clearly states: You know what I'm asking about: don't play dumb. "Taehyung and you."

"Beats me," I say, thoroughly grumpy. I'd already told her about the kissing. No details. Well . . . some details. Anna has a way of dragging things out of me. (Maybe because I'm the author? Hahaha.) "Maybe he's dating someone else, and he's trying to juggle two girls at once."

Anna shakes her head. "No other girlfriend. He works at the surf shop after he leaves here every day. it's open until nine. Then he turns back around and works there every morning - and that's if he hasn't been surfing. When has he got time for another girl?"

Good point. I feel guilty for even joking about it.

"I saw him arguing with Mr. Lopez about the schedule that just got posted," she notes as her phone buzzes. She checks the message, texts something back, and smiles to herself.

"And?"

She shrugs as she passes tickets through the window.

Now my phone buzzes with a text. It's Taehyung. We both have tomorrow off. If you're not busy, would you like to go on a date? Time: tomorrow afternoon until? Chance of being caught by your dad: very low. (please say yes.)

I look up at Anna. "Did you know about this?"

"About what?" she says, the picture of innocence. "And, yes, I'll cover for you. You can tell your dad you're spending the day with me. But my parents want to actually meet you, so you're coming around for dinner on Tuesday. We don't play nerdy board games, but my mom cooks and will force you to help in the kitchen while she tells stories, so fair warning there."

"I owe you big-time, Anna." I can't type Yes fast enough.

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞

The next day at noon, I park Eggie in the alley behind the surf shop, neatly wedging her into a small nook between the building and Mr. Kim's van. Mrs. Kim says she'll keep an eye on it but assures me that no one in their right mind would steal anything from them. One look at Taehyung's dad andI believe her. But I'm not really all that concerned about RM rejacking Eggie, I'm just relieved to stow the scooter back here, where my dad won't be likely to see it if he's out and about.

I slide into the passenger side of Taehyung's van and smooth the hem of my red dress as he speeds out of the alley, making all the sea creature's head bobbles. It's sunny and clear, a beautiful summer day, and we haven't said all that much to each other. We're both nervous. At least, I know I am, and I'm pretty sure he is too, because he's breathing deeply a lot and not his usual chatty self. he hasn't told me where we're going yet, only that I should be prepared to do some walking. "it's air-conditioned, don't worry. I wouldn't subject you to Hotbox temperatures on your day off," he told me yesterday in the parking lot after work. I've been in the dark about everything else.

"You really aren't going to ask where we're going?" he finally says when we're headed south on Pacific Coast Highway, following the ocean past the boardwalk and the Vogue.

"I like a good mystery." I have couple of flashbacks of our last trip this way, when we were looking for Eggie, but I'm not going to bring that up. Instead, I've been trying to solve the puzzle on my own, deducing things from the direction we're headed and the time we're leaving - not exactly primo romantic date time - and what he's wearing, which is dark bottoms with an untucked white shirt with a black tie. He's also wearing a leather jacket, so we're somewhat matching. I can't stop sneaking glances at his hands. because, lets face it, they're great hands . . . and I wish those hands were touching me right now.

Once you've had an amazing kiss, can you die if you don't get another one? Because I feel like that's what's happening to me. Maybe I like him way more than he likes me. Man, that thought makes me feel off balance and a little queasy. Or maybe I don't like him at all. Maybe our relationship is being held together by the thrill of a good quarrel and raw ual attraction, and my initial instincts about him were right. I hope this date wasn't a mistake.

"I'm glad you trust me," he says, relaxing for the first time today and showing me a hint of that beautiful smile of his. "Since we've got some miles ahead of us, let's test your musical tastes."

"oh, brother." We both break out our phones, and he lets me scroll through his music library, finding we have little in common there - big surprise. But, and I'm not sure why this is, I'm almost glad about it. Because we spend the next half hour debating the merits of the last few eras of music history - disagreeing about almost everything - and it's . . . fun.

Really fun.

"This is going to sound weird," I say after some thought, "but I think we're compatible arguers."

He considers this for a moment. "You enjoy hating me."

"I don't hate you. If I hated you, things would be much simpler, believe me. I just think we're good at arguing with each other. Maybe it's because we respect each other's point of view, even if we don't agree."

"Maybe it's because we like the other person so much, we're trying our best to convince them to come around to our way of thinking."

I snort. "You think I like you that much, huh?"

He holds his palms upward on the steering wheel, gesturing toward the open road in front of us. "I've planned this for an entire week like a complete loser. Who's the one who's whipped here?"

Warmth spreads up to me cheeks. I quickly stare out the passenger window and hope my hair shields the rest as I listen to him exhale heavily again. I'm happy and embarrassed at the same time when I think about how much trouble he went to arranging this. He argued with Lopez for both of us to get the day off. And I wonder who's covering for him at the surf shop - his sister?

"I was beginning to worry you'd changed your mind about me this week," I say to the window.

I feel a tug on my jacket. Taehyung pulls my hand across the seat and offers me a tentative, unsteady smile that I return. It feels so good to finally touch him again, and now I'm the one exhaling deeply. I'm still nervous, but it's a different kind of feeling. Before, my anxiety excitement has added some strange harmonies into the mix.

It take us almost an hour to get to our destination, which is the closest nearby city, Cambria. It's about the same size as Monetery, but it has a different feel. Fewer surfers, more boats and bikes. Taehyung points out a few things, shows me Row Row, which was made famous by local legend James Row, in the book of the same name. We didn't read that in school - it was The Miracle of Rows - but Taehyung's read everything by Row, which surprises me, until he starts talking about tidal pools and a marine biologist named Edwin Dinh who was immortalized in Row's book as a character named Dan. Then it starts to make sense.

We park a few blocks from the beach near a Spanish-style building with a terra-cotta roof and a whale sculpture out front. The sign on the wall reads: PACIFIC MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY.

Taehyung clips his keys onto his jean's buckle strap against his hip as we stand across the street. he's examining the blank look on my face, while I quickly try to disguise. "I know this may seem strange. You're thinking, Hey, we work in a museum all day long. Why would we want to come here?"

"I wasn't thinking that." Maybe just a little bit. "I like museums."

And I really, really do.

"That morning on the Bees you told me you wanted to work in a real museum one day," he says softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I nod, suddenly more than a little embarrassed and wishing I hadn't shared so much of myself with him - yet, at the same time, touched that he remembered.

"Anyway, this isn't really part of the date. We have an appointment."

"An appointment," I repeat, confused.

"Just . . . come on."

The building doesn't looking look all that big from the outside, and when we head past the whale through the front door and Taehyung pays the optional meager entrance fee, it doesn't pull a Doctor Who trick and look any bigger on the inside, either. But it's two stories and brightly lit. And it's packed full of natural specimens collected in glass cases - stuffed birds and animals, artifacts, dried plants, rocks - all from central California. And even though natural history really isn't my thing, it has an old-school museum vibe that immediately makes me fall in love with it.

Yeah, totally digging this.

"My parents used to take Eunjin and me here when we were kids," Taehyung tells me as we walk into the main room and pause in front of an eight-foot-tall grizzly bear that stands into the second story.

"It's fantastic," I say, craning my neck to look at the bear's face. And before I realize how geeky I sound, I add, "The lighting is excellent."

he's pleased. "Unlike the Vogue, all this stuff is the real deal. And the docents are cool. They know their stuff." He looks at his surf watch. "We're a little early. We've got half an hour, which is almost enough time to do a quick tour of the whole museum, if you're interested, that is."

"Half an hour until our appointment with . . ?" I ask.

"You'll see." He tucks his hair behind his ears, looking devious and excited, and for a brief moment I panic, wondering if I'm being led into some kind of scary situations - any second now, prom will ruined by a bucket of fluid being dumped on my head. I start to ask him about this, just to double check, but he interrupts my horror thoughts.

"No sense sitting around while we wait when there's so much cool stuff in here. There's a large squid that Edwin 'Dan' Dinh donated and a preserved baleen whale eyeball," he says with the enthusiasm of someone who just scored two tickets to a red-carpet premier of the next drama.

"Okay, I'm in." I'm still nervous about this appointment thing, but eager to see the museum at the same time, so I follow him.

Case by case, he guides me through the galleries of butterflies, mollusks, abalone, fossils. There's a garden out back, and a million taxidermied birds! And when he finally points out the preserved baleen whale eye, I think it might haunt me forever. Especially when, as I'm leaning over to inspect it, Taehyung tickles my sides. I squeal so loud, a group of small children are startled. He can't stop laughing. I think we're in danger of getting kicked out, so I pretend to hit him in the shoulder a few times, and that alarms the children even more.

"it's always the quiet ones who are the most violent," he tells one of the wide-eyed toddlers as I pull him away.

"You're a menace to society," I whisper.

"And you've got a terrible taste in boys. It's time for our appointment."

I follow him back through the galleries to a small gift shop, where we meet a jolly purple-haired security guard names Mr. Graceffa. "You look just like your dad," he says, shaking his hand heartily. For the love of surfing, does everyone in California know the Kims? And do they all have an opinion on which parents Taehyung favors the most? It's ridiculous. Then it hits me that Mr. Graceffa is a museum security guard . . . and Taehyung's a museum security guard. Is there some secret guard network I don't know about?

Taehyung intoduces me and says, "So, yeah, like I said on the phone, Suzy maybe wants to be future curator in an actual real museum - not a tourist attraction like the Vogue Palace - so I was hoping maybe you could give us a sneak peek behind the curtain."

"Not a problem," he says, nodding toward a door marked STAFF. "Follow me."

I'm in a daze as he leads us through the back hallways. First she gives us a tour of the archives and storerooms, where a guy and girl are quietly tagging fossil samples as a big table, listening to music. They were nice enough when we're introduced, but you can tell they're relieved we're heading back out. I don't blame them one bit; the solidarity I'm feeling is total and complete. Swap out those fossils with old movies stills, and this would be my dream job: peace and quiet, nothing to do but concentrate on what you love. Absolute bliss.

Then we're on to the museum offices, which look a lot different than the Vogue's. It's smaller, sure. But the people are actually working on stuff that matters back here. Real museum things - not making sales quotas and driving more customers. There are desks and clutter and flurry, and people are discussing exhibits and education programs and outreach.

Mr. Graceffa stops in front of me of an office marked with a sign that says EXHIBIT CURATOR. He knocks on the door and a handsomely dressed woman looks up from her desk.

"Mrs. Woods?" the guard says. "These kids are from Monetery. They work at the Vogue Palace. This one here says she wants to steal your job one day, so I thought you might to see what she looks like and prepare yourself."

I'm momentarily appalled until Mrs. Woods smiles and stands behind her desk, gesturing us to come inside. "A future curator? I'm delighted. Have a seat, why don't you?"

Everything's a big blur after that. She's friendly and asks a lot of questions that I'm not prepared to answer. When she realizes that I'm not really all that into natural history, I think she's disappointed, but Taehyung picks up my slack and starts talking about kelp forests and limpets and she's back on board. Then it gets better because she's doing all the talking, telling us what she does, and it's actually really interesting. And she's super laid-back and cool, and I do want her job - I mean, in a theoretical kind of way.

While she's talking, I sneak a glance at Taehyung, and I'm overwhelmed. This is not technically a romantic date, but it's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me. All he had to do was take me to the movies. Heck, I would have been content to park at the end of the alley. Who does this kind of thing? No boy I've ever known, that's for sure.

I'm not certain how long we're in there - a minute or two? - but she gives me her business card, and before we leave she shakes my hand and tells me, "We'd never turn down a good intern. If you'd ever want to put in some time on the weekends, I'm sure something could be arranged. Shoot me an email."

"Thank you," I manage to say.

Mr. Graceffa and Taehyung make small talk about surfing as we leave the museum, and I think he gives him someone's number to get free tickets to some sort of surfing competition event, I'm not sure. He seems happy. We both thank her and jog down the stairs in tandem, passing the whale on our way back to the van.

"Taehyung."

"Suzy." Lazy smile.

"Taehyung."

"Suzy." Lazier smile.

"That was so . . . Ugh. I don't know what to say."

"You didn't think it was stupid?"

I bump his arm with my shoulder as we cross the street. "Shut up." I'm full-on lost for words now, completely speechless. Could he be any nicer? Doing this today was beyond thoughtful . . . It's almost too much.

I breathe hard several times. I'm unable to express how I feel. My words come out fast and crude. "Aish, Taehyung. I mean, what the heck?"

He smiles. "So I did good?"

it takes me several steps to answer. I swallow hard and finally say, "Today was great - thank you."

"Don't make it sound like it's over - it's not even 2:00 yet. Strap yourself in, Bae; we're headed to stop number 2."

I don't mean to laugh. I sound like an crazy person. I think I'm nervous again. I also feel a little drugged. Taehyung Kim has that effect on me. "Where to now?" I somehow manage to say.

"If this place was a slice of my childhood, then I'm about to give you front-row seat to my nightmares."

☜(⌒▽⌒)☞

Taehyung's family has an annual membership to the Cambria Aquarium, and it comes with a guest pass, so he gets us both in for free. This is no attraction. Taehyung tells me it draws two million visitors a year, and I believe that. It's huge and beautiful and more professional than anything in Monetery.

Today the crowds are scattered, and Taehyung weaves around them. He's clearly been here a million times, and at first I think it might be a repeat of the museum of the museum: He's going to be giving me a tour, pointing out all manner of marine life. But after we stop to watch a little kid nearly fall headfirst into the stingray pool, things . . . get so much better.

We start holding hands in the middle of the darkened forest exhibit. Unlike the natural museum, this place is completely romantic, and I hope Taehyung doesn't hear the little happy sigh that escapes my lips when his gingers slip through mine. I don't even care that his knuckles are making my fingers ache a little, I'm not willing to let go.

The next dark place is the jellyfish room. They are gorgeous, all lacy and ethereal, shockingly red and orange floating up and down of the bright blue water. Taehyung's thumb follows their fanciful movements, skimming my palm in dreamy circles. A hundred shivers scatter over the surface of my skin. Who can concentrate on jellyfish when I'm getting all this hand action? (Who knew this kind of hand action could be so exciting?)

I would've been perfectly content to stay with the jellies, but a tour group is making things much too crowded, so we seek another place where it's less populated. We didn't exactly verbalize this to each other, but I'm almost positive we're on the same page.

"Where?" I ask.

He weighs our options. We try a few places, but the only thing that seems to be empty right now is the place he doesn't really want to go. Or the place that he does.

The open sea room.

And I think I know why.

"This is what I wanted to show you," he says in a rough voice, and I'm both excited and a little worried as we step inside.

It's almost like a theater. The room is vast and dark, and the focus is na enormous single-pane window into blue water and a single shaft of light beaming through. There's no coral, no rocks, no fancy staged fish environment. The point is to see what's like to look into the deep ocean, where there's nothing but dark water. It's effective, because it certainly doesn't look like a tank. It's endless, no perception of depth or height. I'm a little awestruck.

A few people mingle in front of the enormous viewing window, their black shapes silhouetted against the glass as they point at schools of fish swimming around giant sea turtles. We step up to the glass, finding a spot away from everyone else. At first, all I can see are the bubbles rising and the hundreds of tiny fish - they're busy, busy, always on the move - and then I see something bigger and brighter moving in the dark water behind the smaller fish.

Taehyung's hand tightens around mine.

My pulse quickens.

I squint, trying to watch the bigger, brighter thing, but it slips away, into the black deep. I think I catch a sight of it again and move closer to the window, so close that I feel the cool glass against my nose. With no warning, bright silver fish fills up my vision, blocking out the dark water. I jerk my head away from the glass and find myself inches away from a ginormous shark swimming past.

"!" I start to giggle at myself for jumping, and then realize my hand is being squeezed tightly and that Taehyung hasn't moved. He's locked in place, frozen as if by Medusa's stare, forehead pressed against the glass.

"Taehyung?"

He doesn't respond.

"You're hurting my hand," I whisper.

It's like he doesn't even know I'm there. Now I'm getting freaked out. I forcibly pry my fingers out of his, and it's beyond difficult. It's impossible. He's got me deadlock, and he's crazy strong.

For a brief moment, I panic, looking around, wondering what I should do. Wondering if anyone else notices what's going on. But it's dark, and there's barely anyone in here. He's suffering in silence.

What do I do? Should I slap him? Shout at him? That would only draw attention to us. I can't imagine that helping.

"Hey," I say urgently, still wiggling my fingers out of his. I then reach up with my other hand to caress his cheek. "Hey, uh, what kind of shark is that? Is that the same shark that bit you?" I know it wasn't, but I'm not sure what else to do.

"What?" he asks, sounding bewildered.

"Is that your shark?"

"No," he says, blinking. "No, mine's a great white. That's a Galapagos. They rarely attack humans." I finally break our hands apart. He looks down between us for the first time and seems to notice something's wrong. "Oh, man."

"It's fine," I assure him, resisting the urge to shake out my throbbing fingers.

"." His face goes cloudy. He turns away from me and faces the tank.

Now I'm worried our beautiful, perfect date is ruined.

I have to summon all my willpower to push back the wave of chaotic emotion that threatens to take me under, because the truth is this: I've never been on a date before. Not a real one. Not one that someone planned. I've been on a couple of double dates, I guess you'd called them, and some spur-of-the-moment things, like, Hey, do you want to go study at the cafe after class? But no real dates. This is all new territory. I need this to be  okay. I need this to be normal.

Do not panic, Suzy Bae.

I keep my voice light and tug on the key strap that dangles at his hip until he turns to face me again. "Hey, remember how freaked I got to the bonfire? Please. You aren't half as screwed up as me."

"You don't know that."

"Sorry, I do. This time you're going to have to trust me."

"Suzy . . ."

the shark swims by again, a little higher. I jiggle his keys in my palm. "I will admit, though, despite what I've been through Joon Hyungjoon looks like a dandelion compared to that beast. Now tell me how big your shark was compared to the Galapagos."

His shoulder drop, his Adam's apple rises and falls, and the way he's looking at me now, suddenly clear-eyed and sharp, satisfied - as if he's just made an important decision - makes me feel all funny inside. but I'm not worried anymore - not about him, and not that our date is ruined. The danger has passed.

We both face the window, and he begins to tell me in a steady voice about the Galapagos and another impressive shark that swims by, a hammerhead, telling me sizes and shapes and diets and endangered status. And as he talks, he moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist - questioningly at first, but when I pull him in tighter, he relaxes and rests his chin on my shoulder, nestling into the crook of my neck.

He knows all about these sharks. This place is therapy for him. And sure, he got stuck there for a second, but look that these things. Who wouldn't? Not for the first time, I'm amazed at what he went through. I'm amazed by him.

"In Hawaiian mythology," he says into my hair, his voice vibrating through me, "people believe spirits of their ancestors continue to live inside animals and rocks and plants. They call an ancestral spirit an aumakua - like a guardian spirit, you know? Eomma says the shark that attacked us is our aumakua. That if it had wanted to kill us, it would have. But it was just warning us to take a good, hard look at our lives and reassess things. So we're supposed to honor that."

"How do you honor it?" I ask, leaning my head toward him.

"Appa says he's honoring it by admitting that he's too old to be on a board and that he's better off serving his family by staying on dry land. Eunjin says she's honoring it by being the best surfer she can be and not fearing the water."

I trace the scars on his arm with my index finger. "And what about you?"

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

As a hammerhead glides past, Taehyung slowly turns me around in his arms. I'm vaguely away of the silhouettes of the people who stand farther along the viewing window, but I don't care. In our little corner of peaceful darkness, it feels like we're alone. With my arms circling him, I dare to dip my fingers under the loose hem of his untucked shirt, reaching upward until the touch the solid, bare skin of his back. Right over the same spot on me where one of my own scars is, though I'm not sure if I subconsciously mean to do that or it it's an accident.

He shivers violently, and it's the sweetest victory.

A pleasant warmth spreads through my chest. The water's reflection shimmers on the sharp lines of his cheekbones as he holds my face in both hands and bends his head to kiss me, softly, delicately, like I'm something special that deserved to be honored.

But the thing he doesn't know, the thing that shocks even me is that I'm not the gentle guardian spirit; I'm the hungry shark. And I fear his arm won't be enough. I want all of him.