Future

I pulled up the cropping tool, selecting the space. I wanted to focus in on, when my eyes feel upon something in the background. Not something . . . someone. Joohyuk. He was up against the far wall, staring into the crowd. A few clicks and I came in closer on his face. I got up from the bed to grab my sketchpad and a pencil off my desk.

Nam Joohyuk was an intriguing subject.

✿   Secrets of Attraction    ✿

Her fingers were in my hair again, the tips grazing my scalp, smoothing the hair away from my face. She was so close-I could smell her lip gloss, something sweet and sugary like lolipop. The way she was standing I could easily pull her down to my lap, run my hands along the smooth, soft curves outlined by her jeans, taste . My tongue felt on fire.

"Breathe," Haein commanded.

I reached out from my waist, hips aligned, then leading with my right hand, tilted toward the ground, forming a perfect triangle. Trikonasana was my pose. I was a statue. A rock. My feet firmly planted on my yoga mat.

Haein, a.k.a. Hot Yogi, walked the room with his hands clasped behind his back. Slouchy black pants, gray tank, dark eyes looking at everyone and no one.

It was hard not to picture him .

"Trikonasana is a full-body openeer. Spiral the femur bone inward, feel the stretch across the front of your chest, same as cobra. Imagine yourself between two panes of glass." His gravelly voice echoed all the way down to my stability.

Between two panes of glass.

With you, Haein.

Stephanie looked over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers in greeting as she reached toward the ceiling. We'd been taking class on Thursday nights at Calming Yoga along with my mom since October. Eomma took it stave off her mid forties. When she asked me to join her, I begged Stephanie to come along so at least I'd have someone to snicker with. Turned out, we both enjoyed the chill feeling we had after class. I also liked it because I was height-challenged, but after an hour of stretch, I felt about six feet tall. (Okay, maybe more like five foot six-still, taller.) For the first month a pear-shaped, aging hippie named Cindy taught the class. Her ample booty defied gravity but halfway through January she herniated a disc in her lower back and took a leave of absence.

In walked Haein.

The class had started out with fifteen women. After word of the Adonis in yoga pants, it doubled in size. Stephanie and I were the token college students. The majority of the class was made up of moms and twentysomethings. There were a handful of guys who either came to class with their wives or seemed to know Haein from the other studio where he taught. I'd never wished for an hour to feel longer in my whole life. He made yoga y.

Haein stopped beside Stephanie and touch the spot between her shoulder blades, then leaned down and whispered something to her. She lengthened into the pose, reaching upward with her outstretched arm. Her fishtail braid slipped from her shoulder as she looked toward the ceiling. The side of curled in an almost imperceptible grin.

"Nice," he said, before walking over to the next mat.

The thought of royally screwing up so Haein would come over and adjust me crossed my mind. On the other hand, I wanted him to notice how effortless I made every pose. I was beginning to defy gravity myself. I took a breath and settled into stillness. Haein moved past me. For the barest of seconds, my eyes met his.

"This is an active pose. Feel the energy shooting out from your fingertips."

In that sip of a moment, energy shot through more places than my fingertips. Zowee. I wobbled.

In our next downward dog, Stephanie peered at me from under her armpits.

Omigod, she mouthed.

, I mouthed back, but smiled.

We'd had a bet on which one of us Hot Yogi would adjust first. I owed her an after-class iced vanilla latte. She shook her head and smiled as we moved forward into warrior one.

"Breathe."

All the remainers to breathe used to get on my nerves; as if breathing was some airy-fairy cure-all and not something you did automatically. One little pause, though, was sometimes all it took for me to refocus-even off the mat. Breathe. When I wondered how I'd scrape up the money to go to the summer arts program at the Gwangju Design Institute. Breathe. When Minho kept bringing up the subject of getting serious. Breathe. When sometimes it felt like it would be years before my life really began.

I dreamed of building something beautiful. A tree house. A home. Hell, a skyscraper that glowed pink at night. And the journey of a thousand steps toward my dream was a summer program to gain some practical experience so my résumé would stand out. I'd wanted to go to Sandbox's summer program, but Gwangju was more in my price range. And if I kept my GPA over 3.8 and had a portfolio to die for-Sandbox could be my future. Whenever anyone tells you to shoot for your dreams, though, they never mention the cashish involved. Buzzkill.

We moved down to the floor series, ending with happy baby, a pose that required you to grab the outside of your feet and pull downward so your knees opened wide and your vadge was presented to the world like a cookie tray. So okay, I got the baby thing, but doing this pose felt far from innocent to me.

"Happy Jisoo," I whispered to Stephanie.

That was all it took. She snorted. Her belly convulsed and she lost her grip in the pose. She rolled to her side, hands over her face, body rocking with laughter. One of my greatest pleasures was making her lose it. She scurried from the room and didn't make it back for savasana. As the final "Om" sounded, Stephanie crept back in to roll up her mat.

"Su, I'm freaking mortified."

"Come on," I said, folding my mat. "That was pretty good."

Hot Yogi was suddenly in front of us. Stephanie's face flushed.

"I'm, um, so sorry, for um, laughing like that, it wasn't -" she stammered, her hands gripping her rolled up yoga mat.

"Hey, that's what yoga is for. Release. Laughter. Tears. No judgment," he said, looking from Stephanie to me.

The two of us were mute, but I swear I could hear Stephanie swallow as the word release crossed his lips. The kind of release that came to mind had nothing to do with laughter or tears. Whoa, breathe.

"I hope you two are comfortable in the class. You know they have one with music for youths on Sunday nights?"

"This fits better in our schedule," I said, bummed that he noticed how young we were. Up close there were fine lines around his eyes, but he couldn't have been more than, say, thirty-two was my guess. That would make us eleven years apart. Maybe a world apart at this stage, but someday . . . hmm.

"I think it's awesome you're here. If I had practiced in college, I might have had an easier go of it," he said as my mother walked up to us.

"Thank you, Haein. I'm always ready for a good night's sleep after this class," she said as she ran a hand through her sweaty bob. Even my mother was not immune to Hot Yogi's charms. Every week, she freshened up her pedicure and put on tinted anti-aging moisturizer before leaving the house for class. Seeing them together I realizes that she actually could go for ti, if she really wanted to, but that would have been so, um, ew, to be crushing on the same guy as my mother.

Haein smiled, clasped his hands at heart center, and gave us a small nod. "Glad to oblige."

He turned away and was approached by two women who gushed about how their shoulders had never felt better since coming to this class. Right. Their shoulders felt better. The subliminal undertone of this whole exchange was almost too much to bear.

Stephanie pinched me. "You owe me ice vanilla latte."

✿ Secrets of Attraction ✿

Soop was the coffee shop next to the yoga studio. It was a little place that was always jam=packed after class - whether it was because of the tool behind the coffee bar messing up orders or that it was the one place aside from the diner where you could hang out for the price of a cup of coffee, I wasn't sure. The line was slowly strangling my yoga buzz.

"So, details, what was it like?" I asked, stepping closer to the counter.

Stephanie's eyes grew wide. "What do you mean?"

"When Hot Yogi touched you."

A glow rose in her cheeks, and she looked over her shoulder to inspect the line. She stepped to her other foot.

"He didn't touch me, it was an adjustment. I was focusing on my ocean breath."

"Wait, there was a touch and a whisper. What did he say? Come on, something worth a vanilla latte."

Stephanie bit back a smile, leaned toward me, and said in a breathy voice by my ear, "Tighten your core."

"Oh . . . my . . . omo."

She laughed. "And then he put his hand on my back? There was nothing, you know, y about it, but damn, I sort of felt it . . . everywhere."

I thought of the jolt of insta-lust I felt when my eyes met Haein's. I'd probably just melt into a puddle if he ever gave me an adjustment.

"Everywhere?"

"Well, for a split second. Then it was just weird. My mind went into overdrive, like, Did I remember to put on deodorant? Would Jisoo be pissed? I couldn't concentrate after that. Yoga's supposed to leave you calm, right? I miss Cindy."

"Are you insane? Cindy was awesome, but really, no comparison."

"I didn't feel like I had to put on lip gloss for Cindy."

"Amen," said the girl behind us. We both turned. I recognize her from class; she always practiced in the front row, near the corner, and could do sick arm balances for what seemed like hours. She leaned toward us and whispered, "When he demonstrate scorpion last week -"

"And his shirt kind of fell up?" I said.

"Stop," Stephanie said, smiling as she checked out the texts on her phone.

"I swear, even the walls sighed," the girl finished.

We need to drag Yoona here next week," Stephanie said.

"What can I get you?" asked Broody Barista, fingers poised on the cash register to ring up our order. I was tempted to say, "The usual," but it would have crushed me the tiniest bit if he'd been clueless as to what that was.

He was tall, muscular guy whose name tag read JoohyukN. I couldn't tell if his name began with an N or if he was trying to make a statement; either way, he didn't seem approachable enough to call him that, so he was Broody Barista in my head. Even though I was sort of involved with Minho, flirt was my natural language. It wasn't necessarily about getting with someone, more like making friends. Week after week, I tried my best, but this guy, messy dark hair that shows his forehead, never got into it. He wasn't snobby or anything; more aloof, or maybe just perpetually bummed.

"One medium nonfat vanilla latte and two iced americanos," I answered.

He chewed his lower lip as he rung us up, eyes on the register until the total lit on the display.

"Six thousand two hundred and fourteen won." He knocked on the counter and threw a glimpse at the growing line behind us. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a 10000 won. I laid it onto his outstretched palm, my fingertips grazing the top of the wide leather watch he wore. He didn't strike me as the accessory type but there it was, along with several small bands, including one with a brass infinity symbol, on his left wrist.

He took the bill and called the order to the guy behind the coffee bar who was too busy staring at Stephanie to pay attention. I follow his gaze to see exactly what he was looking at. Her light blue exercise tank fit her like glove. In class she looked like everyone else; in here, with her warm-up jacket zipped halfway, she - or more precisely, her assets - stood out. Stephanie was bent over her phone, scrolling through her messages, oblivious to what effect that particular view was having on this creeper. I stepped in front of her and glared at him. He raised his eyebrows at me and shrugged.

Broody Barista cleared his throat to get my attention.

"Don't mind him, he only comes out at night," he said as he dropped the change into my hand. One corner of his mouth turned up. A tiny ripple in a mysterious sea, but it was something. I ran with it.

"Hmm, a nocturnal , the creepiest kind."

He laughed as he wrote in Sharpie on the to-go cups. "Subin, you're scaring the customers again."

"Then my job is done." Subin flashed me a toothy grin that was irritatingly charming. Stephanie finally looked up from her phone and smiled at him. When faced with his object of lust, he got flustered and turned away. All stare, no bite, apparently. Stephanie furrowed her brow. We moved to the end of the counter to wait for our drinks.

"What was that about?"

"That was about this," I said, tugging up her zipper. "You don't realize the power of a little cleave, do you?"

She grimaced. "Ick, really? I'm sweaty and gross."

"No, you're dewy and flexible," I said, nudging her.

The door opened, sending a gust of cold air into the café. Haein stepped in, my mother right behind him, a plastic shopping bag swinging from her wrist. "Eomma!" I waved her over. She acknowledged me with a nod, but then turned back to Haein and another woman from class. I wanted to tell her I'd already ordered for her, but she seemed completely engrossed in conversation.

"My mom is picking me up," Stephanie said, finally shutting down her phone and putting it into her yoga bag.

"Too sweaty and gross for Jisoo?" I asked.

She chuckled. "No, we're going to the mall to pick up a  designer bag for Hanna's baby shower. Can't be shown up by the in-laws. They're getting some stroller called a Bugaboo or something - it's, like, a bazillion won, so we have to, you know, up our game."

"A designer bag for crappy diapers? Leave it to your sister. I thought your mom didn't believe in the baby-shower thing." 

"She doesn't, but Darren's mom and sisters do, so they're throwing them a his-and-hers baby shower over spring break. Tropical theme. Can you imagine? My mother's making Steven go too. He said only if there are drinks with umbrellas. At least I get to drag Jisoo with me. Feel like taking a ride to the mall?"

"As lovely as that sounds, I should probably get some work done on my portfolio for the summer program application. It's due in mid-April and there's nothing impressive about it yet."

"That's doubtful. Even your stick figures are impressive," she said.

"One vanilla latte and one americano," Subin announced, pushing the cups toward us. 

"We have another americano, too."

"Oh, right." He stole a glance at Stephanie before turning back. She was too nice to glare at him, but she averted her eyes and busied herself by rifling through the pocket of her yoga bag. More people began to gather around the tiny pickup area.

I reached for our cups and handed Stephanie her drink. They had Thursday Girls scrawled in Sharpie across the front. Broody Barista had given us a nickname. Maybe he had noticed more than I thought.

As my lips touched the rim of the cup, I anticipated the crispy sweetness of the americano but got a gulpful of bitter. My taste buds recoiled.

"Don't drink that," I said, a second too late. Stephanie's wrinkled nose told me her drink was off, too.

"Hey, yo, dude. There's coffee in these drinks."

"No it's not," Subin said. He placed another to-go cup on the counter. The tag read True Americano; at least he hadn't screwed that up.

"Yes, it is, I can taste it," I said, putting the cup on the counter. I took off the lid to show him-the usual creamy tan was a darkish brown. He brought the cup up to his nose and sniffed.

"Ah, so there is. My bad." He slid the drink back to me. I had the sudden urge to pour it over his head, no matter how strangely endearing his awkward and y attempt at macking on Stephanie had been.

"Dude, we're backed up on drinks. What's the hold up?" Broody Barista joined in. The line that had been near the door now surrounded the pick up area.

"There's too much coffee in our drinks," I said, meeting his gaze. "Maybe if your coworker wasn't busying checking out my friend, he would have realized he was screwing up our drinks."

I'd meant it to be funny, but annoyance seeped through. Stephanie coughed and slunk back. Subin paled. Some of the people waiting around us shifted. I was aware that Haein and my mother were beside me, still carrying on what must have been the world's most interesting conversation. My nerves sizzled, but I felt vindicated.

"Sorry, he said. "I'll take care of this."

He grabbed our cups and whispered something to Subin, who suddenly lost the clueless glint in his eye. They both worked quickly on the drinks, hammering them out one by one, until Stephanie, my mother, Haein, and I were the only ones left from the original line. Haein's matcha involved some special brewing method and a whisk. I wasn't sure what was taking so long with our drinks, but standing near Haein was enough to make me forget about the whole thing. He smelled like sandalwood incense.

Stephanie checked her phone.

"My mom's outside."

"Here's your vanilla latte and iced americano, Thursday Girls - my apologies, next week is on me." Broody Barista slid the cups toward us. Stephanie grabbed her drink and hoisted her yoga bag over her shoulder.

"Sure you don't want to hit the mall?" she asked.

"Nah, have fun perusing the diaper bags," I said.

"Yeah, right. Thanks for the latte." She wiggled her fingers at me as she hightailed it out the café. For a split second, I wanted to change my mind and go with her. Stephanie complained about her family sometimes, but in the end it was usually with a smile. The Lees were awesome - always something going on, so different from my own family. Not that I had anything to complain about either. My mother and I were a tight unit of two. Small but fierce.

Broody Barista's eyes were on me. Waiting. I took a sip of the much-improved Americano.

"Mmm, it's great," I said. "Thanks."

"Anytime you have a drink emergency, please, consider it handled." He put a hand over his heart and bowed. Ice broken.

"I'm Suzy," I said.

"Joohyuk," he answered.

"So now you don't have to call us Thursday Girls."

"I came up with that." Subin poked his head out from behind Joohyuk as he put Haein's tea on the counter. Haein broke away from my mom to get his drink. I turned to see her take out her phone and tap, tap, tap something into it. What in the world were they talking about?"

Subin touched my shoulder. "So your friend . . ."

I swallowed back a grumble. Really? "Is very involved," I replied.

"How involved?" he asked. For a moment I felt bad for him; his eyes were so hopeful. He was sort of cute, in that messy, guy-who-doesn't-know-how-to-take-care-of-himself kind of way. Sort of a fixer-upper.

"Like, soul mate-involved."

At this Joohyuk let out a derisive pop of a laugh.

"Ah, soul mates. I guess that means she'll be available in a  month," he said, resuming his post at the register to help someone who'd just wandered in. It might have been funny if there hadn't been an edge to his voice. Maybe soulmates was overstating it, but did he have to be so freaking dismissive? Subin put both hands on the counter and leaned toward me. His nails were bitten to the quick.

"Okay, well, um, what about you?"

I stepped back. "Dude, you did not just ask me that."

His face got twitchy. "Wait, no, I didn't mean -"

"Look, I can still tolerate you at this point, so before you say anything else, let's forget about this convo, okay?" I grabbed my mother's drink and turned my back to him.

"I hope you wanted this iced," I said. Eomma smiled, and tucked her phone into her bag.

"Oh Suzy, I forgot, thanks," she said, taking it from me. 

"I'll meet you out front."

"No, wait, we're done here." She opened her black hole of a purse again, and took out her keys. "Haein, thanks, I'll be sure to check those out."

"Let me know if you need anything else, Seonmi."

They're on a first-name basis now?

I walked toward the front door, willing myself not to turn around, but in the reflection of the glass I could see Subin making exaggerated hand motions at Joohyuk, who just shook his head and smiled. Like, a real one, teeth and all. I was too irked by what had gone down to say goodbye. As I pushed out through the front door, I wondered if he'd remember his offer to buy our drinks next week. My money was on probably not.

✿ Secrets of Attraction ✿

"So what were you and Hot Yogi talking about?" I asked my mom as she cut the wheel yet another time before finally pulling out of the parking spot. Parallel parking had never been her strong suit, and it took her almost as long as to get out of the space as it took her almost as long to get out of the space as it had to negotiate getting into it in the first place. Once she straightened out the car, she sped down the side street.

"Suzy. Hot Yogi? His name is Haein." There was an amused lilt in her voice.

"Come on, he knew your name. You guys were chatting; just wondering, you know - if you're into him."

She made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "Into him? I'm old enough to be his mother."

My mom was going through a major dating dry spell. The better word was probably drought. The last more-than-one-date boyfriend/man-friend/suitor I remember her having was when I was ten. You and me against the world, Su, she'd say, whenever I joked about it. Eomma prided herself on being self-made, and it was great, but sometimes I wondered if she was waiting for me to go off to school before really hooking up with someone. Not that she needed anyone, but didn't everyone need a little fun now and then?

"But you can't deny his hotness."

We stopped at the red light and she raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, you win, I can't deny his hotness, but I can forget about it when I'm talking to him."

"Okay - how? Because I can't."

"Simple," she said, reaching for her drink. "I can compartmentalize. Haein's not dating material but he's got more experience than me in yoga, so I'm attracted to his brain."

I snorted. "His brain? Why?"

She sipped her drink as we sat at the light.

"I'm . . . well . . . I'm thinking of becoming a yoga instructor."

I couldn't hide my surprise. "Wow, instead of hair?"

"No, mostly as a supplement, but I don't want to be in the salon forever. Standing up all day, crouched over customers, is taking its toll on me. Once we started practicing yoga, I felt better, had more energy. My nerves aren't as frazzled at the end of the day - you know, I feel even."

"And Haein is going to help you?"

My mom fiddled with her cup until it was back in the holder. The light turned green. She eased through the intersection, absentmindedly playing with her hair as she drove the five blocks home.

"We were talking about programs, turns out the studio is starting up a teacher training session in a few weeks. He gave me some book titles, websites - I'm still thinking about it. With classes and materials . . . it's not cheap."

"Oh." Money. The Grim Reaper of dreams.

"But it's not undoable, either. I can take some clients at home again, if necessary. You know, we'll see. I have some time to think about it," she said, pulling into our driveway and cutting the engine.

It made me think of my own plans for summer design camp at Sandbox. I was working toward the scholarship, but Eomma had been putting money aside as a backup plan. There had to be a good hundred thousand; it might not cover the yoga training, but it was something.

"I think you should go for it. You can use the money set aside for my design camp."

"Absolutely not. That's your backup plan." She collected her bags and cup. I grabbed my americano and slung my yoga bag over my arm as I stepped out of the car.

"I won't need a backup plan - I'm getting that scholarship, or I could always get a job," I said.

"You know how I feel about that. College . . ." she said, coming around to my side of the car.

". . . is my job," I finished. "But it doesn't help pay, they take money instead."

She put her arm around me. "Ah, but it'll be an good experience for upper education."

We walked up the porch. Eomma paused.

"Did you forget to turn out the lights?"

I shook my head. "I didn't leave the music on, either."

As we got to the front door, the door opened.

"Juhoon," my mother said, grinning.

He filled the doorway, arms outstretched as he sang along to "Into the New World," which was blaring in the background. Smells of ginger and something peppery wafted through the open door. Juhoon stood there, wearing a cook's apron over dark jeans and a blue polo. He ensnared my mother in a bear hug before letting her pass.

"Ah, Suzy-ah," he said to me, kissing me on one cheek and then the other like he always did when I first saw him, before closing the door behind us. "You look more like your mother every day."

"Really?"

"Hey, would that be a bad thing?" eomma asked as she kicked off her shoes and put her cup down on the hall table. I plopped my yoga stuff next to the door.

"I guess not," I teased.

She unwound the scarf from her neck and tossed it over the coat rack, then walked across the parlor to turn down the music. "You said Friday."

"You should check your messages," Juhoon called over his shoulder as he went back into the kitchen. "I had the opportunity to grab a flight from Tokyo today, so I took it. Hungry?"

Kim Juhoon was one of my mother's oldest friend from school and pretty much only steady male presence in our lives. He was a captain for a commercial airline and whenever he had a layover in the Gwangju metro area, we were his own private hub. In exchange for a place to rest his head, he cooked and brought baked goods from his various travels. We occasionally got to fly to places. Not a bad deal.

There were times I caught them looking at each other a certain way, which made me think that at one time they might have been more than just friends, but neither of them ever divulged more, even when I prodded them for information. They hugged and stuff, but it was strictly platonic. After the conversation I had with Eomma about Haein, it made me wonder what compartment she kept Juhoon in - nice man-friend with occasional travel benefit; makes a mean fried rice?

"Not really," eomma yelled back. "But it smells delish."

"Vegterian stir-fry." He returned with two open long necked Soju bottles dangling between his fingers. He held out one to my mother but she shook her head.

"Hey, I'll take it," I joked, balancing my cup and fishing through my jacket pockets for my phone. Eomma shot me a look. I checked my messages. There were three texts from Minho.

"I think you should reconsider the soju," Juhoon chuckled.

I stopped checking my messages. Eomma raises her eyebrows. Juhoon looked at me, then back to eomma.

"You should reconsider because in a few hours it will be Friday," he said, holding it out again. "Hey, Su, I brought the good donuts - they're on the kitchen counter."

I took that as my not-so-subtle cue to exit stage left, which suited me fine. I had more pressing plans on my mind, which consisted of a hot shower, some sketching, a call to Minho, and now a good donut. This particular delectable delight was from our own lovely dozen of Krispy Kreme. I found the box on the table, and reached in for a purple sprinkled donut. When I went back into the parlor eomma has the soju in her hand.

"Later," I said, brushing past them and climbing the stairs.

"You're welcome," Juhoon said.

"Thanks," I called down, before taking a massive bite of the donut. The chocolate and sprinkles melted in sweet perfection in my mouth. Maybe not as healthy as yoga, but equally as blissful. I went into the bathroom, pulled back the shower curtain, and the water. I scarfed the rest of the donut waiting for the water to get hot, and checked my messages.

Hey y

Waiting

And then a selfie headshot of Minho, lying on his bed, hair splayed on his pillow, one arm carelessly flung over his head.

My heart did a disturbing little hiccup.

Yum.

Breathe.

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