SEULGI

“Hi,” he said in a tone so unfamiliar that Seulgi didn’t know who had spoken until she’d looked up. Sehun stood in front of her, hands deep in the pockets of his coat. His gaze drifted around the park before settling back on Seulgi. “It’s getting kind of cold to be out here.”

The wind blew strongly at that moment, dragging an empty water bottle across the ground. Seulgi watched it silently, briefly irritated at the person who had tossed it. Under normal circumstances she would have picked it up. Instead, she did nothing but hold the pages of her sketchpad down as the wind picked up again. “It’s fine,” she said.

“Did you like the flowers?”

Seulgi looked down, feeling tired now. She wished he would leave. “What do you want, Sehun?”

He sat down beside her without waiting for an invitation. He must have known she wouldn’t offer one. “I wanted to apologize.”

Seulgi stared at his profile, trying not to appear as surprised as she felt. Sehun? Apologizing? To her?

“It wasn’t your fault that I ...” Sehun hesitated and started again. “My parents were putting a lot of pressure on me to find someone else.” He glanced at her quickly. “It’s not that they don’t like you it’s just that you’re... you’re not...”

Seulgi tried to ignore the sinking feeling that always accompanied the thought of Sehun’s parents. Of course she knew that she was not upper class. Of course she knew that his parents didn’t approve of her, of her family, of her and Sehun’s relationship. Of course she knew they had threatened to cut Sehun off if he didn’t break up with her. They had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t good enough for him.

Sehun shifted to face her. “Things got really ugly, and I had to tell them that we’d broken up.”

Seulgi swallowed, hating that this hurt her. “When?”

“Six months ago,” he said. “I’m sorry, Seul. It was the only way they’d leave me alone. The only way they’d leave us alone. But, it wasn’t enough.” He paused and breathed deeply, indicating that was to follow was much worse. “They set me up with someone. The daughter of one of my father’s business partners. She’s headed to Harvard as well, and we ... we really hit it off. That’s why I’ve been so distant. I’ve ... I’ve been seeing her.”

Seulgi blinked at him, unable to formulate words.

“I meant it when I said that I love you. It’s why I brought up your transferring to Harvard and being engaged. I wanted to believe that you and I could make it. That whatever I was feeling for Vanessa was only temporary...”

“Vanessa,” Seulgi said softly, thinking the name would spark something in her. Anger or bitterness or something. Anything besides emptiness. “Did you sleep with her while we were together?”

Sehun looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Seulgi nodded. “Thanks for telling me,” she said, rising to her feet. “Seul...”

“It’s fine,” she said, not sure if it was true or not. The cold was getting to her now, and she needed to walk. Perhaps if she walked it would rid her of the numbness settling in on her. “Please stop calling me.”

“Do you hate me?”

“No,” and this she knew was true. “But I don’t want to see you again. Not any time soon. Maybe someday, in ten years or so, we’ll run into each other by accident, and we’ll be able to smile at each other and think back on this moment in a bittersweet kind of way. Maybe then, I will be happy to see you. Maybe. But right now, if I were to see you again, if I were to run into you and see you smiling and laughing with a group of friends, if you were to call me up and say ‘hi’, I think I would hate you. And maybe I will hate you anyway, once I walk away from you now and think about this. I can’t promise I won’t. But right now, at this very moment, all I feel is relieved. Relieved that this is over. Relieved that I’m not longer yours to hurt. Send my best to Vanessa. I wish you both the best. Goodbye, Sehun.”

The empty water bottle caught her eye as she walked away, and she bent down to pick it up.

~*~

“I can’t believe that .” Joy was scrubbing the table top so hard that Seulgi thought the paint would come off. “Cheating on you like that? You! How dare he? Who does he think he is?”

Seulgi looked around at the other patrons who were now staring curiously in their direction, and realized that telling Joy about her meeting with Sehun at Joy’s place of employment hadn’t been the wisest thing to do. “Joy, people are staring,” she whispered.

“So?” Joy dropped the cloth on the table and regarded the man seated closest to Seulgi. “If she were your girlfriend, would you cheat on her?”

Seulgi covered her face with one hand and sank lower into the chair. “I’m gay.”

“Of course you are,” Joy replied. She looked around. “Any guy here not gay? Hell, any lesbians in the house?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Seulgi half-whispered, half-yelled through clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t,” said a male voice. “She’s a fox.”

“There you go,” Joy said to Seulgi. “Proof that Sehun is an idiot.”

Seulgi turned half way around to see what had to be a sixty year old man leering at her. “Ugh.” She turned back to Joy. “Look, I’m going back to the apartment. And, officially, I can never come back to visit you here again.”

Joy took Seulgi’s statement to mean that she should sit down. So she did. In a low voice, she said, “I know a couple of guys who could track Sehun down and beat the crap out of him. What do you think?”

“I think I’m a little scared of you right now.”

Joy narrowed her eyes at nothing in particular. “I’m so glad you’re done with that bastard. And trust me, if I ever run into him, he’s going to be really sorry.”

Instead of replying, Seulgi ventured a smile. Ironically, Joy’s anger worked to soothe Seulgi’s pain. The walk from the park had been a dark, emotional event. She might have shed a tear or two, though she would never admit it. Sehun deserved no tears. He hadn’t deserved them before his confession, and certainly not after. And after venting over an appropriately named Venti-sized caffeinated drink, she felt better. Not quite skip-all-the-way-home better, but better all the same. “I’ll see you at home later?”

“Oh you bet. I’m picking up movies, pizza, and more junk food than you have ever seen in your life. We’ll have a huge Gilmore Girls-type Friday night extravaganza. Lorelai would be proud.”

“Hardcore. Can’t wait.”

Once outside, Seulgi hailed a cab, a luxury she couldn’t quite afford but that felt necessary at that moment. If she walked, she would think, and she was tired of thinking. At least this way, her thinking time would be reduced dramatically. She wanted to focus, instead, on the positive. And once she figured out what the positive was, she’d give it her full attention.

“Nice night,” she said absently to the cab driver, hoping he’d hear her through the plastic divider between them. His reply came in the form of a grunt, and Seulgi gave up trying to decide if he was agreeing with her or not. She glanced out the window, at the City passing by in a blur of motion. It was a nice night, she decided, watching as familiar buildings grew closer and then vanished into the past.

Seulgi was relieved when the cab pulled up to her building. She’d kept a close eye on the meter, ready to yell, “pull over,” if the cost exceeded the amount of money she carried. As it happened, she had just enough.

“Have a good night,” she said politely, only to hear a dismissive grunt in reply. Perhaps she hadn’t tipped enough to warrant a full word.

The apartment was dark when Seulgi stepped inside, and she moved quickly to turn on the light. Listening, as she always did, for sounds that might give away an intruder. Hearing nothing, she wandered into her bedroom and closed the door.

The room smelled of cigarette smoke and stale cigars, neither of which were her doing. She lit an incense stick to cover the odors seeping in from other apartments and sat down at the edge of the bed. The mattress squeaked, and she moved to a spot that didn’t feel as lumpy as the rest.

In the corner, her easel stood buried beneath two shirts and a jacket. That is what her passion had become: a hamper. She thought of Sooya and felt like a fraud. When was the last time she’d painted? It had been weeks.

This is not how it was supposed to be. She should’ve been standing over a canvas, paintbrush in hand, clothes covered in oil and paint; happy and alive, if slightly crazy from the paint fumes. She should not have been sitting in bed, sulking about a guy she wasn’t even in love with. Michelangelo wouldn’t have sulked. He would’ve hit a rock with a hammer and created a masterpiece or sat down to write a poem that encapsulated the very essence of love and passion. Then again, she was hardly Michelangelo and Sehun was hardly Cavalieri, and neither relationship could be remotely compared to the other, so where she was headed with that train of thought was anybody’s guess.

Somewhere, the theme to I Love Lucy played and Seulgi listened to the muffled sounds of dialogue before moving to take the laptop out of its case. The computer, like most of Seulgi’s valuable belongings, was a gift from Sehun. It was also the only gift that she would likely not be returning or giving away to Goodwill or burning in a fire of spiritual and emotional cleansing.

Her email loaded slower than usual, or so it seemed. She smiled, however, when the name Sooya Kim appeared in the inbox. There were few things lately that Seulgi looked forward to; a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, the end of classes, the start of a fresh roll of toilet paper, and Sooya’s emails.

She began to read, smiling at the words on the screen and forgetting for a moment that she didn’t know the girl at the other end of the screen. She hadn’t talked to Joy about Sooya much, or at all since their discussion on Sooya’s potential gender confusion. It seemed like an outlandish thing, to be communicating with a stranger via email. She’d heard of people doing that before, but she’d never considered herself the type of person to fall victim to online friendships. Is that what this was? Friendship? She hardly knew anything about Sooya as it was. What they shared was something in the category of Other; something still untitled.

Still,Sooya made her smile, made her wish to know more about the woman behind the emails. How old was she? What did she look like? What did she like to do? Did she go to school? Did she have a job?

Dear Sooya,

I was sitting here thinking that I know so little about you. Perhaps that’s a good thing – I’m not sure what the usual protocol is for online communication. It’s new to me, this whole thing of emailing someone I don’t know. I was asleep while my entire generation jumped onto the Internet head first and began using chat rooms and forums to meet other people.

I have always been old fashioned in that respect, I guess. Words on a screen never seemed like enough – but then, I’m an artist and all about the visual. Words and I have never been friends. In fact, I have to think really hard when I write to you, hoping I’m not sounding terribly idiotic and running everything though a spellchecker as I go so that I don’t end up sounding like a moron. I’ve not yet managed to figure out how to sound like ‘me’ when I write. Is there a way to sound like yourself in emails? I’m not sure. I just know I used the word ‘sound’ entirely too many times in that paragraph and though it seems fine to me, I think my Lit professor would frown deeply at this email.

Usually I would just erase it or cheat by using a thesaurus but I’m not sure you care if I use the same word 800 times in one paragraph or if I forget a comma somewhere. You can tell me if you do care, of course, and I’ll just proceed to bang my head against an easel or something.

It’s weird, isn’t it? That we started talking about love and relationships and I don’t even know how old you are or what you look like or even what your hobbies are. Maybe you’re used to this kind of exchange, so I apologize for being such a newbie.

Regardless, I was hoping that you could tell me more about you. I’ll take anything, the most mundane details are accepted, as well as any quirks you wouldn’t normally admit to the general public. I suppose that’s one advantage to being relatively anonymous.

I’m sorry if this email is excessively long or rambly (and unlike you, I do normally over- apologize, especially in situations where nothing is my fault). Today I had one of those days that I wish I could forget. I can’t forget it, of course, which is why I’m rambling to you. Rambling is so much easier than forgetting.

Today my ex-boyfriend appeared out of the blue to tell me that he’d been dating someone else on the side and that he’d also slept with this girl while we were together. I know I should be angry, which I am. I told him I was relieved, and I am that, too. The weird thing is, I’m more angry at myself than at him. I’m angry that I let the relationship go on so long when I knew it wasn’t working. I hadn’t been in love with him for months ... why didn’t I end it then? Why did I keep thinking something would change?

He’s an for cheating and lying, but I wasn’t a saint, either. I might not have physically cheated, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t muster enthusiasm for anything we did together anymore. When he slept over I’d end up sleeping on the couch just because I couldn’t sleep with him beside me. I began to get irritated by the mere thought of him. His phone calls grated on my nerves. I started to hate the sight of him chewing, the sound of his laugh, and the fact that he always smelled of cigarettes (no offense if you’re a smoker).

None of these things add up to my being the kind of girlfriend he should’ve wanted to have, right? He couldn’t have been happy. No matter how much he claims to love me, I can’t begin to fathom what he saw in me. And I guess that whatever it was, it wasn’t enough.

(Oh yeah, I’ve been also known to be self-deprecating. It comes with the territory of being a dark, brooding artist-type.)

I just wish I didn’t feel so bitter about a relationship that had been doomed for ages. I blame the melancholy. You start thinking about how things were at the beginning, and how happy you were, and how in love you felt. You start to remember the things he used to do, and how they made you feel, and then the present comes tumbling down. Suddenly, you’re twenty-one years old, sitting in your bed, rambling to a stranger about a guy you used to love but don’t anymore, and you think, ‘Oh my God. This can’t possibly be my life.’

So there you have it. My current mental state. This email would be even better if I were drunk.

But enough about me ...

So, you mentioned a blind date. I guess the question on my mind while reading your email was: what’s your type? I thought doctors were all the rage? What’s wrong with him? Too old? Too young? Too short? Too tall?

Actually, if he’s a blind date ... how do you know he’s not your type?

~.~ 

JISOO

The date had been going well, to Jisoo’s surprise. Daniel was neither boring nor self- absorbed, and Jisoo began to understand how one might end up in a relationship after all. If she had been even remotely interested in him physically, she might have agreed to a second date. And maybe a third, and then who knew? They might be picking china patterns by the end of the year.

“I need to apologize to you, Jisoo,” Daniel said, looking uncomfortable for the first time all evening. His green eyes darted around the restaurant nervously, and Jisoo began to wonder if she’d been wrong about him all along. Perhaps he was a con-artist, or a Pap in disguise. Perhaps the real Daniel Thornton was tied up and gagged in the trunk of a car somewhere.

Jisoo put down her glass of Château Margaux and regarded her date, with what she hoped was a curious-but-not-panicked expression.

“I know that our mothers set this up, and I’m truly honored that you’d even want to go on a date with me, considering who you are and everything. And I realize this must make me an idiot in about thirty different countries. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be dating Kim Jisoo, right?” He reached for his drink and finished it before continuing. “It’s mainly that... my last relationship... she and I were very serious and I... I’m not quite over her yet. God knows I should be. I mean, she broke my heart in every way imaginable. I’m just... not.” He breathed, meeting her gaze. “I wanted to tell you that because you’re so lovely and I feel horrible agreeing to this date when I knew I wasn’t over Angelica yet.”

Jisoo relaxed and offered him a sympathetic smile. To say she was relieved was an understatement. “I understand completely,” she said, and was pleased when he returned her smile. “Why don’t we just enjoy the rest of the dinner and then at least we can tell our respective mothers that we made it through the evening without embarrassing either of our family names. That’s all they really care about anyway.”

Daniel laughed. “Isn’t that the truth?” He studied her suddenly and looked pensive for a moment. “Forgive me for asking, but, why are you single? I can’t imagine there’s a shortage of men wanting to take you out to dinner.”

Jisoo lowered her gaze, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny; as though he might be able to guess what it was just by looking at her. “I guess I’m just picky.”

He nodded, as if she’d said something wise. “That’s good. Don’t settle. I dated so many women. Family-approved women, of course. I was pretty certain at least one of those Stanford girls would turn out to be the One. Didn’t happen. Then I started working and you know, crazy hospital hours didn’t leave me much of a social life. And one day, after I’d given up on ever meeting anyone at all, there she was: Angelica. The maid’s daughter. It was a disaster from the beginning.” He shook his head sadly, and shrugged. “But you can’t help who you love, right?”

~*~

Her cell phone chimed the second Jisoo stepped into her house, and an image of Rosé hiding out in the bushes outside crossed through her mind before she answered. “You have impeccable timing. Are you stalking me?”

“Always,” came Rosé’s voice. “Your paychecks have funded my entire arsenal of tools. Night vision goggles, binoculars, the works. I heard some college kids came up with a type of camouflage suit. I’m putting in a pre-order.”

Jisoo took off her heels and carried them the rest of the way to her bedroom. Her feet ached and she was anxious to change into something comfortable. “I guess that means I don’t need to fill you in on the details of my date tonight since I’m sure you have video footage already. Let me know when it’s up on YouTube.”

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Rosé noted. “It couldn’t have been a total disaster.”

Jisoo sat down on the bed and rubbed her feet. “It wasn’t, actually. It was quite nice, in fact.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re thinking of dating him?”

Jisoo rolled her eyes. “Yes. One evening with a man I could talk to and suddenly I realized I’d been wrong all along. I’m cured! Bring on the men.”

There was a pause before Rosé said, “I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I’ll work on my punch line for next time. Anyway, the date went fine. We ate, we talked, he told me all about the woman he’s in love with, I listened. He paid the check. He opened the door for me. And then he drove me home.”

Rosé laughed. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously.”

“So he’s in love with someone else?”

“Yes. Angelica. She sounds like a nice girl. Smart, too. Did you know she was the Valedictorian at her high school? She even got a scholarship to Yale but her father got sick so she had to stay around here and help out the family.”

“Wow, he really did tell you about her.”

“Oh yeah. I even saw baby pictures. He’s got it bad. Poor guy. He was really nice. If I’d been straight, or even biual, I’d have definitely been upset that his heart is taken.”

“Well it all worked out for the best then.”

“Absolutely. It’s over and done with, and that’s the last time I agree to a blind date.” She reached over to turn on the lamp on her nightstand. “So, was that the reason you were calling? To find out about the date?”

“Partly. I wanted to tell you I finished reading the script.”

Jisoo switched the phone to the other ear. “Oh yeah? What did you think? Be honest.”

“Honestly? Honestly, I think it’s great, Jisoo. I think that if you turn down this role, you’re going to regret it somewhere down the road. You’ve wanted a part like this for as long as I’ve known you...”

“I have.”

“And this character, Elizabeth ... I can’t imagine anyone else playing her. This could very well be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Why dismiss it on account of your personal life? It’s just acting, right?”

Just acting, Jisoo thought. Right. “I have that meeting with the director tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah that was the other reason I was calling, to remind you. I emailed you the details and the directions to the restaurant. Brunch is okay, right? She suggested brunch and I figured you wouldn’t care.”

“Brunch is fine. Thanks, Rosé.”

“My pleasure. I also attached a picture of her I found online so you would recognize her easier. I assume she knows what you look like, but just in case.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know. So, listen, guess who called me today?”

“The Pope?”

“Jackson.”

Jisoo smiled. “And?”

“We had a really, really long talk. I’m talking long. He yelled. I yelled. I hung up on him. He hung up on me. We took turns calling the other back. It was quite dramatic, but I think we’re going to be all right. I think as long as I manage to keep my exes away from him, things should return to normal.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m glad you guys managed to work things out.”

“Thanks for calling him an idiot and telling him to call. Sometimes he needs to hear it.”

“Oh don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time I’ve called him an idiot, and it likely won’t be the last.”

Rosé snorted. “I believe it. Listen, we also discussed your very cryptic phone call about the homophobic artist in New York. Any chance you’ll illuminate us with the details sometime soon?”

“Are you saying you didn’t believe I was writing a story?” 

“Well... I’d say yes, but I’d be lying.”

“Great.”

“So?”

“What so?”

“Who is she?”

“She who?”

“The artist?”

“What artist?”

“Jisoo!”

Jisoo smiled into the phone. “You’re the stalker. Figure it out.” 

“We’ll break you down eventually. You can’t hide – Oh my God!”

“What?”

“It’s the artist! The one who made that painting that you had me cart all over Los Angeles. What did you do? Did you call her?”

Jisoo had forgotten how it easy it was to piece it all together. She should’ve never made those phone calls. “I didn’t call her,” she said impatiently. “And don’t go blowing things out of proportion. It’s nothing. I just emailed her to say that I liked her painting. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Rosé sounded doubtful and Jisoo didn’t like it.

“Yes that’s all! What else would it be?”

“I don’t know. Why did you want to know if she’s homophobic?”

Jisoo sighed, a headache beginning to pound at her temples. “I was just wondering. I don’t know. It wasn’t for any particular reason.”

“Does she know who you are?” 

“No.”

“You didn’t tell her it was you?” 

“No!”

“So... what, she thinks you’re... who?” 

“Sooya.”

“Sooya who?”

“Just Sooya.”

“And she didn’t think it was odd when your email came through as Kim Jisoo?”

Jisoo hesitated.

Rosé started to giggle. “Oh no. You just made up a new address?”

Was her assistant psychic? She was unnerved by the conversation. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s nothing. And talking about it makes it seem like something, and that makes me uncomfortable.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t tell Jackson.”

“Oh, c’mon. This is too good not to discuss.”

“Rosé!”

“Ooh, I’ve got another call. Probably Jackson. Talk to you tomorrow. Enjoy your brunch!”

“Rosé!” The phone went dead and Jisoo’s shoulders slumped. So much for keeping this a secret. Her own fault. She should’ve known calling them would arouse suspicion. They were nothing if not nosy.

Resigned, she dropped the phone on the bed and headed into the closet to change. Tomorrow was another day, and she had important decisions to make.

~.~

Decisions sometimes came in bulk, Jisoo learned the following morning as she read over Seulgi’s last email. She felt a mix of emotions as she read: panic at the thought that Seulgi wanted to know more about her, as well as an odd sense of flattery over the same; anger at Seulgi’s boyfriend for cheating; sadness that Seulgi blamed, in some part, herself; and other things that she didn’t have a name for.

She sat back on her chair, sipping soda that doubled as her breakfast, and contemplating her options. Not writing back would be insensitive, Jisoo recognized, though writing back could only lead to a myriad of complications. Complications which she had foreseen, but chosen to ignore. She should’ve ended things at the beginning, or better yet, not started things at all.

Now she was stuck. Stuck between wanting to be honest, and not knowing how. She sighed, placing the can on the desk and hitting the reply icon on the screen.

To: Kang Seulgi

From: Sooya Kim

Subject: Re: Your Art

Dear Seulgi,

Jisoo waited for the right words to come to mind. When they didn’t, she removed her fingers from the keyboard and looked around her room. Her gaze landed on the time and she leaned back, letting the chair swing back and forth. She had three hours to write back to Seulgi, shower, get dressed, and get to her scheduled brunch date with Jennie Ruby.

Why writing back to Seulgi rated first on her list of things to do, she wasn’t sure. Something told her that if she didn’t write back before she left, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else. That fact danced along the edges of her mind, inching toward a mild sort of worry.

The cursor on the screen ticked away the seconds, and Jisoo straightened up.

Dear Seulgi,

I’m also a novice at this communicating-through-email thing, so I wouldn’t worry too much about the protocol. I’m perfectly happy playing it by ear. To be honest, I didn’t expect our virtual interaction to last more than an email or two. I’m not known for trying to befriend strangers out of the blue.

I’m sorry about how things turned out with you and your ex-boyfriend. I know you feel somewhat responsible for the outcome, but I still think it was a ty thing he did. He could’ve told you if he was unhappy. But it’s not really my place to comment one way or the other. Regardless, I hope that you find happiness, or at least the path back to your art. I think perhaps the latter would lead to the former...

Anyway, about me. Let’s see. It’s an odd thing to summarize oneself. Where do you begin? You asked about my age, so I guess I’ll start there: I’m twenty-five. My hobbies... hm. I read a lot. I like to cook (contemplated culinary school for a while, actually). I swim when I have the time. I don’t have any odd hobbies or special skills. I don’t collect things or fly model airplanes in my spare time or anything of the sort. I guess that makes me pretty boring (or just normal, depending on your world view – which in mine kind of amounts to the same thing).

I guess that’s all pretty common and maybe doesn’t paint a very good picture of who I am. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure who I am. I like to think I do, or pretend that I do, but I don’t. Not really. Maybe that’s why I chose acting as a career.

Jisoo frowned thoughtfully, debating whether or not to leave the last paragraph in. She didn’t want to lie, but it didn’t mean she had to put the whole truth on a silver platter for Seulgi to dissect.

Not yet, anyway.

She highlighted the last paragraph, and clicked a random key. Then she rolled her eyes. “I sound so lame.”

She ran a hand through her hair in frustration and let out a deep breath. She glanced out, through the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony, out to the ocean beyond. After a couple of minutes, she turned back to the computer.

(...) which in mine kind of amounts to the same thing).

What about you? It’s probably natural for people to assume that art is your hobby, but I bet, to you, it’s everything but.

Anyway, moving on. My blind date actually turned out to be better than I expected. He was kind, funny, good-looking, and in love with someone else. I know you asked how I knew he wasn’t my type before I met him, and the truth is that the fact that it was a ‘him’ kind of gave it away.

Jisoo stared at the screen, knowing she should delete what she’d written, but not really wanting to. If Seulgi were ever to discover who she really was, these emails could serve as evidence. Copies would circulate the Internet, get plastered on magazines, and come back to bite her in the . If this ever got out, the media would have a field day. “And it would be great publicity, I just bet,” she muttered.

She tapped her fingers on the keyboard. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Jisoo?” Shaking her head, she continued to type.

Consider yourself person number three on the list of people in this world who know that about me. I guess anonymity does go a long way toward aiding honesty along.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well.

Until soon, Sooya.

She sent the email without reading over it, knowing she would delete everything if she got a second chance. “She’s going to think I’m a creepy stalker-type,” Jisoo mumbled as she rose from her desk. “With a mullet.”

~*~

SEULGI

Rain fell hard against the window, drops breaking into smaller versions of themselves then sliding down in zig-zag patterns only to gather on the sill. Seulgi crossed her arms against her chest and sighed. A perfectly good day, ruined. “I hate it when it rains on days I want to sell my art.”

Joy snorted from the couch. She’d borrowed Seulgi’s laptop and was gazing intently into the screen. Without looking up, she said, “It’s getting too cold out, anyway. Fewer people stopping to look. Maybe you should look into displaying it somewhere else. Preferably indoors.”

Seulgi turned away from the window and walked toward her friend. “There’s a big student art exhibit coming up,” she said, sitting beside Joy. “Only two students per class get picked, though.” She shrugged. “Odds aren’t good.”

“See, that’s your problem.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You have no confidence. You want something, you need to go after it. Even if it means stretching your comfort zone a little. Who picks the students?”

Seulgi hesitated only briefly before saying, “Professor Kiennen.”

“And have you ever spoken to this Professor Kiennen outside of class?”

Seulgi frowned. “No. I have a class right after his. I usually have to rush out to get there in time.”

“And this next class is an art class?”

“No... Lit.”

Joy sighed and put the laptop on the coffee table. “Do you see where I’m going with this?” Seulgi settled back on the couch.

“No...”

“Priorities, Seulgi. If you want your stuff at that exhibit, you need to go the extra mile. Your talent only goes so far, I’m sorry to say. Sometimes the artist needs to speak louder than the canvas.”

Seulgi shifted uncomfortably. “So you want me to ... what? Just go up to him? Strike up a conversation?”

“You’re his student. Certainly you have questions you want answered. Or deep, philosophical observations about whatever kind of art he likes most in all the world. Just make yourself noticed. If he remembers your face and your name, he might take a closer look at your art.” Joy shrugged. “All the same, you might still not get chosen, but it’s something. If not this, maybe he’ll pick you for something else. You never know.”

Seulgi imagined herself going up to Professor Kiennen after class and starting a conversation about Surrealism and André Breton, about art as a revolutionary movement. Wouldn’t he see through that? Wouldn’t he dismiss her as just another student wanting to make the grade? If her art was worth it, wouldn’t it get noticed on its own? “I’ll think about it,” is what she said to Joy, in an effort to drop the subject. “What are you up to?”

Joy retrieved the laptop again and pointed at the screen. “Checking out open call auditions. I really need to get myself an agent. But some of these look promising. Want to come along? There’s one in a couple of hours.”

Seulgi glanced at the window and the rain still coming down strong. “I think I’ll stay in dry land today.”

“Suit yourself.” Joy handed the laptop over to Seulgi. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I saw you twitching earlier. Do I need to send you to Webaholics Anonymous?”

Seulgi took the object and settled it on her lap. “It’s not that. It’s just...” She stopped short, thinking it a weird thing to admit.

“It’s just...?”

Seulgi shrugged, hoping it didn’t sound like a big deal. “I emailed Sooya a couple of days ago and I was hoping she’d write back today.”

Joy nodded, looking perplexed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I never figured you for the obsessive pen pal type.”

Seulgi frowned. “I’m not obsessive.”

“Mmm, whatever you say, Twitchy.” She nodded at the laptop. “So, go ahead. Check if she wrote you.”

Seulgi felt uncomfortable checking her email with Joy looking over her shoulder. Her interactions with Sooya had always felt like a private matter. Something that wasn’t meant to be shared. Hurting Joy’s feelings, however, was out of the question, so, hesitantly, Seulgi moved the cursor around until the mail client popped up.

Mail loaded on the screen, a virtual cocktail of junk mail, store sales, and more junk. Seulgi was both relieved and disappointed by the absence of Sooya’s name.

“Guess she’s busy,” Joy said, moving away from Seulgi. “Speaking of busy, you want to go out tonight? Hit a bar, watch me get drunk and flirt with random people?”

Seulgi was about to decline when movement on the screen caught her eye. The name Sooya Kim appeared in her inbox, and suddenly, her spirits lifted. Seulgi closed the laptop and turned to Joy. “Um, sure. Yeah. If the rain stops. I hate getting wet.”

Joy sat back, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, the feel of wet clothes is—“

“I meant about going out tonight?”

“Oh.” Seulgi nodded, not really thinking about it. “It’s Saturday. And I’m single, right? I should have a little fun.”

Joy grinned. “I’m going to hold you to that. No excuses.”

“Except for the rain.”

“What if it’s just a drizzle?”

“We’ll see,” Seulgi said, smiling at her friend’s enthusiasm. “Don’t you have an audition to get ready for?”

Joy nodded and stood, then paused, looking thoughtful. “Did you ever stop to think that this Sooya person could be a forty-year-old, beer-bellied, child molester named Bob or something? Cause I was thinking, it could also be a serial killer. You know, he pays clean-cut guys some money to purchase street art, gives them extra to flirt with the salesperson and get their business card, then uses that information to get close to the artist. Pretends to be a fan. Lowers the creep factor by claiming to be female. Gets private information. Then bam! Shows up at your door one day as a surprise, and boom. You wake up to find yourself tied up at some old warehouse, and bloody.”

Seulgi blinked at Joy. “Entirely too much TV for you.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Joy said, walking away. “I just hope the Medium lady has a dream about you before it happens and comes to warn you. ‘Cause unless this has happened many times before and they’re on the case, the Bones people and the SVU people will get there entirely too late. And I’ll be forced to say, ‘I tried to warn her, officers.’.”

~*~

JISOO

Jisoo arrived fashionably late to the brunch meeting, and thanks to Rosé’s quick thinking, recognized the director without trouble. Initially, she’d thought the photo Rosé had sent her was old, but standing face-to-face with Jennie Ruby, Jisoo realized the director was simply young. Pretty, too, she thought, but didn’t dwell, putting on her poker face and shaking hands before sitting down at the table.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jisoo began, though she really wasn’t. When it came to business, she never waited for other people. She felt it gave her a disadvantage.

Jennie Ruby smiled easily, showing straight white teeth. Her green eyes contemplated Jisoo briefly. “I’m really glad you agreed to meet with me today, Ms. Kim. Your assistant made it clear you were pretty busy these days.”

Jisoo reached for a glass of water. “My agent told me you really wanted me for this part.”

“I wrote it for you,” Jennie admitted. “With you in mind, anyway. Naturally, if you decline I’ll have to find someone else, but I’d rather it didn’t come to that.” She opened the menu. “Do you know what’s good here?”

Jisoo was momentarily distracted by the way the director’s light brown hair fell across her face. “Uh,” she opened her own menu, feeling flustered. “I’ve never been here, actually. I thought you were recommending it.”

“The hotel manager I spoke to suggested it, actually,” Jennie said. “I asked him what the best place to convince a high profile actress to star in my movie would be and he pointed me to this.” She looked around. “How is it making you feel? Like you want to give in?”

Jisoo couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe after some scrambled eggs.” 

“Excellent.” Jennie met her gaze for a moment. “Look, Ms. Kim—“ 

“Jisoo.”

“Jisoo,” Jennie repeated as if trying it out. “I’m sure you have plenty of other, better offers on the table right now. My movie is small, it’s got a respectable budget but probably not what you’re used to. I was told it was a long shot getting you to star in this, but I’m nothing if not stubborn. What will it take for you to say yes?”

Jisoo considered the director’s words. She had been thinking about this role for weeks. She had re-read the script so many times she practically had it memorized already. And still, until that moment, she hadn’t made her final decision. It wasn’t until meeting the director that Jisoo realized something she hadn’t considered before: it could be fun.

She could tell by the director’s eyes that Jennie Ruby thought the issue was money. The thought almost made Jisoo smile. “Out of curiosity, how much of your budget has been put aside for my salary?”

Jennie looked surprised by the question. “We’re prepared to offer you the usual sum. Is it not sufficient?”

“May I take your orders?” the waitress interrupted.

Jisoo relaxed, glancing briefly at the menu before placing her order. Jennie followed her lead and before long, they were alone again.

“Tell you what,” Jisoo said. “Take whatever you were going to spend on me, divide it by four, and pay me that instead.”

Jennie stared at her, suddenly at a loss. “I’m sorry, I don’t...”

“I’ll take the role,” Jisoo said, knowing, as she said it, that it was the right thing to do. “But I don’t want that much money. To be honest, I don’t need it. I’ve not yet developed a drug addiction so I can spare the change.” She smiled at the look on Jennie’s face. “You were right, this place is very persuasive.”

Slowly, Jennie began to smile. “Well. Maybe I’ll bring my mother here sometime.” 

“Are you trying to get her to star in a movie, too?”

Jennie laughed. “Not quite. Though if I were to film a current rendition of Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot she’d be the perfect candidate for the role of Tutti.”

Jisoo grinned, feeling more relaxed than she had in days. She’d expected the decision to weigh on her, and instead, she felt light. It had been the right choice. Whatever happened from here on out, whatever the consequences, she’d deal with them.

She thought of Seulgi and the email she’d sent earlier in the day. She’d have to deal with those consequences, too.

Whenever they came.