Lonesome Diary

"Take it from the top," I said.

"Again, dude? Come on," Subin said. "Can't we break for a minute? My fingers are tired of clicking."

"Two and a half weeks until we play, we have two songs down, last I checked that's not a set. We're outta here in twenty, Bin, you can make it. Maybe if you took off the hat."

"Nope."

Jisoo wiped his brow along the sleeve of his T-shirt. "It is kind of hot in here."

Practice had become too intense for a garage - twice a week was about all the neighborhood could handle before someone called to complain. We decided to pool some work cash and spring for space at Lot 23, a warehouse turned rehearsal studio between an restaurant and a strip mall on the far end of town beyond the old rails. They had four rehearsal rooms, and Astro was taking up one of them too. Small town, even smaller rehearsal space, we were bound to run into someone we knew. The competition made us work harder.

Subin lifted his electric piano keyboard. "I'm gonna pass out, Hyuk, just let me grab a water."

"Fine," I said. "Hurry."

I strummed the opening of the next song, turned to Jisoo. "He'd come prepared, at least - chugging from a water bottle he brought with him. After sipping he trickled some over his hair, shook it out, and laughed. I had to give him props - I'd never seen someone work do hard or make that much process in such a short time. He attacked it.

"You really think we'll be ready?" he asked.

"Yeah." I kept thinking about that jar on Jasper's desk - If you're gonna blow it, blow it big! We sounded better - would we be out best by Jasper's bar. Probably not, but we'd go down trying. The door creaked open.

"Now we're down to fif-" I stopped. "Sungkyung?"

"Hey, Hyuk. I saw Subin in the hallway." She smiled. Her presence lightened the room - a butterfly coming through an open window. My knee-jerk reaction to seeing her pissed me off - my nerves turned to live wires. Would that ever stop?

"What are you doing . . . oh, I guess . . . Astro," I said, answering my own question.

"Yep, getting ready for the battle," she said, looking behind me.

I turned. "Oh, Sungkyung, that's Jisoo, our new member and developer. Jisoo, Sungkyung."

Jisoo nodded at her and stood up. "I'm gonna see what's taking Subin so long. Be right back."

She was silent, toeing the floor with the tip of her boot, until he left the room.

"You never came here for our practice," I said.

"You never asked me."

"I never thought I needed to."

"Don't start, Hyukie. I just wanted to say hi."

"And ask why I haven't contacted Hyoseop about the software."

"Maybe. I guess. But now I know why you haven't given it to him. You're doing the contest as well."

"No, we're not. We didn't get the entry form in on time."

"But Subin," she said. Just then someone shouted, "Douchebag!" through the hallway. We both turned as a cacophony of voices stormed closer and closer to the room. Subin barreled in, followed by Hyoseop, Cha Eunwoo, then Jisoo, who lingered in the doorway, observing.

"So you are doing the battle," Hyoseop said. "Guess that's why you're still holding on to what's part mine."

Sungkyung stepped back, closer to Hyoseop. It was a small movement, but one that felt like she was letting me know where she stood. The live wires in my chest sizzled momentarily. I wanted to roar, to make them all spontaneously combust and splatter against the walls, but I had no idea what he was talking about.

"No, we're not. We're playing in Gangnam in a couple of weeks," I said. Hyoseop flinched. He'd been so pumped to play when we sent Jas our CD and plan.

That's what you get for boffing my girlfriend.

"Then you're not doing the battle?" Eunwoo asked. In a parallel universe, I'm sure Eunwoo and I were great friends. I admired his coding, and his good looks and singing voice I envied, but he was all technique, methodical. I could code/create by ear and it pissed him off so much that the one time we tried to be together in a group, it didn't last after one practice.

"No." "Yes." Subin and I said it together.

"Subin?" I said.

He nibbled the side of his lip before speaking. "I put in the entry form."

The battle meant nothing to me anymore. We had a real gig, we didn't need this amateur contest where it always felt like it was more about who you knew than how you produced. I was about to say as much, that we just wouldn't show up and I'd give Subin the fifty hundred won for the entry fee back, when I saw Sungkyung  lean into Hyoseop. They stood there . . . waiting.

"Then I guess we're doing it," I said. "What's the big deal?" I could see plainly what he big deal was - they didn't want the competition. And Hyoseop wanted the software, but part his? that.

Subin grinned and let out a "Whoop!"

"Stupid hat," Hyoseop said, pulling it off Subin's head as he left. Eunwoo and Sungkyung followed him out. Sungkyung gave me one last lingering look, which I returned with a stony glare. Subin was still grinning as they left.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked when they were gone.

Jisoo bent down and picked up Subin's hat.

"Geez, dude, this hat is rank," he said, tossing it to him and wiping his hand on his jeans. Subin caught it and slipped it back onto his head.

"Because you were all depressed and , and I knew you would pull that tortured-artist crap. And I wanted to be sure this worked out."

"Am I this?" Jisoo asked.

Subin punched his shoulder and smiled. "Yup."

"Tortured-artist crap?" I said.

Bin's face contorted into an exaggerated grimace and he clutched his hands to this chest. "I can't produce, it's not fun anymore, Sungkyung ripped my balls off when she left me and the world has no meaning. You know, all that stuff that spills out after a few vodka lemonades."

"Okay, okay," I said.

"When is it?" Jisoo asked.

"After the Gangnam gig - first week in April."

"We don't have to do it. It's a stupid contest," I said. "I just couldn't back down when they were standing here."

"No, I'm in. That was hardcore," Jisoo said. "I've only coded and produced in basements."

"Then we've got fifteen minutes, let's do it," I said.

"Why don't we stay longer? I don't think there's anyone coming in after us," Subin said, pulling his keyboard closer to him.

"Can't do it tonight."

"But, dude, the battle? 2STO - Gangnam gig? We need to practice," Subin said. "You're not on tonight, what gives?"

"Have to go see a girl about a logo."

I stopped home to take a quick shower and wash the rehearsal-space funk away. Lot 23 may have been soundproof, but it stunk. Suzy was expecting me at six and I had about fifteen minutes to get there. I shrugged on a black tee and towel-dried my hair. I hadn't had a cut in months and the most I could say for it was that it covered my head. I ran a hand through it, pushing the strands to the side so they wouldn't hang in my eyes. Maybe I'd swing by Phoenix's for a trim before I returned home. My stomach growled. Eomeoni had chili on the stove, but I didn't think it was the best thing to chow on before meeting a girl.

"Be back in an hour or so," I called as I descended down the stairs and out the front door, ignoring the questions that were hollered at my departure.

I arrived at Suzy's with five minutes to spare, taking my time, climbing the two sets of stairs to reach her porch. My finger was poised to touch the bell, when the door opened.

"Hey," I said.

"Come in, come in," she said, smiling. She held out her arms for my jacket.

"Oh." I shrugged off my jacket and she took it. I followed her into the dining room. The house was dim, her computer the only light source in the room. She snapped a switch on the wall, and the light brightens the room.

"Sorry. You ever do that? Lose track of time and the neat thing you realize, you're sitting in the dark? Seriously, if I hadn't heard you stomp on the porch I'd still be staring at the computer, oblivious," she said, tossing my jacket over a high back chair.

"Yeah, totally," I said, looking around. "So whatcha got for me?"

She slid into the chair in front of her laptop. Her computer was pulled up to a page with a modern-looking house on it; it was all rectangular and stone and looked suspended in the midst of trees and a cascading waterfall, but made sense somehow. I knew I'd seen it before. She jiggled the mouse, trying to close down the page.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Oh, just the most amazing house design, like, ever. Yoo Jaesoon designed it when he was in his late sixties. His sixties. There's hope for me yet."

"Wait, that's . . . What is it . . . water . . . something . . ."

"Jeju Waters. You've heard of it?"

"My aunt lives on Jeju Island, not too far from here. Just a three hours flight with minimum cost of 17,000 won."

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah, that's it. That's the most amazing part of it, isn't it? That something so beautiful cost-effective and surrounded by nature. Could you imagine flying to it and staying there. Like that was your house?"

"Are you doing a project on it or something?"

"Kind of - I'm writing an essay on Yoo Jaesoon and organic architecture for art, but . . . I think that's what I'd like to study. Architecture. It's like math and design all rolled up into one. I'd love to - Sorry, you're here for this logo, not to be bored off your ." She shut down the window and opened up another file.

"No, it's cool. It's just, wow, I feel like a jerk for asking you to do this, obviously, you're into bigger and better things."

"Please, 'bigger and better' - this was fun. Well, it will be, if you like it," she said, clicking through a few pictures before coming up to it. "I worked up three - all pretty simple, straightforward. I mean, you want kids to doodle this on their notebooks when you become a household name."

"Ha."

"Here," she said, getting up. "Just click through these, see which one speaks to you. Want something to drink?"

"Uh . . ."

"Water? Soda? No fancy leaf patterns, though."

I grinned. "Okay, water's good."

She disappeared into the kitchen. The first logo was simple, just Samsan in old typewriter lettering. The second one was a little funkier-looking, like the letters were dripping. Definitely some that could be doodled on  a notebook. The third one popped. There's three triangles (colored as RGB) overlapping each other with Samsan written underneath stylized. They all spoke to me, maybe this one a little more. All of them made me wonder how much work she'd put into this. They were amazing.

She came back in, two bottles of water in her hand.

I flipped my bangs out of my eyes, but they flopped back into place. "I think I like this one the best."

"That's my favorite too - I got inspired by looking back of labels. Subin's right; you'll get a lot of free advertising. Although I guess the whole unnatural food-dye thing is a little scary."

"What do I owe you for this?"

"You don't owe me anything. I can use this for my application." She took her index finger and moved my hair across my brow, more serious than flirty. She tilted her head to the side, studying my face, then ran her fingers through my bangs, pulling them straight before letting the hair flop across my forehead again.

"Application?" I said, trying to ignore what having her touch me, even in the most innocent way, was doing to my insides. Just be cool.

"Who  does your hair?"

I laughed. "Does it? I don't get my  hair done. I get it cut. Phoenix. I know, I'm due."

"Would you . . . I could do it," she said.

"Yeah, right."

"No, I can - it's sort of my thing."

She wasn't joking.

"When, like, right now?"

"Unless you have somewhere you have to be. Sorry, I just think you'd look really good with it a bit choppier, maybe a lighter shade of your natural color. It would stand out more. I did Stephanie's hair a while ago, light brunette, but . . . Omo, I'm being pushy. I just think, it might be fun."

If letting her do my hair meant having her touch me again, she could give me a purple mohawk with hot-pink tips. "No, let's do it."

"Yayy," she cheered, hopping little steps like a bunny. "To the kitchen."

What had I just signed up for?

✿ Secrets of Attraction ✿

"Is that a good tee you're wearing? Because these are some heavy-duty chemicals. We're using bleach to make your hair lighter." She dragged a chair across the floor so it was situated next to a small café table where it looked like she'd set up a makeshift hair salon.

"We are?" Lighter black was one thing; bleach was really pale. She waved her hand dismissively.

"My mother can fix any hair disaster, so if it looks awful, you can change it before you play in Gangnam. Sit," she said, gently pushing on my shoulders until my hit the seat. She shook out a black plastic cape and it billowed around me, falling into place as she snapped it closed at the back of my neck. Then she tucked a small black towel around the collar.

"This is probably isn't the best time to ask, but where'd you learn to do this?"

"My mom's a stylist. She has a few clients who only come to the house, so I sort of learned by assisting her. I do my own, otherwise, I'd be this horrible shade of dishwater brown that would make me just disappear in the crowd."

"You? Disappear in the crowd? Right." It had come out without thinking - a friendly thing, but it sounded flirty. Was I flirting? Suzy was anything but a disappear-in-the-crowd kind of girl. Even now, without makeup or anything fancy, she was pretty. But that night at the dance . . . damn. Maybe I was flirting.

She chuckled as she lined up three bottles in various sizes on the table. She placed a black bow, a flat black brush with a long, thin handle, and a little thing that looked like a whisk on the newspaper. Then she began hooking up the portable sink to the one in her kitchen.

"Do you need help or anything?" I felt lazy just watching.

"Nope, just let me have my way with your hair and we're good."

Was she flirting with me?

Once the sink was hooked up properly, Suzy grabbed a small jar of Vaseline and stood between my legs. 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 a lollipop. The was 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.

"What's, um, what's up with the Vaseline?" I asked, the words thick and hot, lava spilling from my mouth.

"It'll keep the dye off your face," she said, popping open the lid, oblivious to how this was affecting me. I was glad to be covered in a cape.

She dabbed the Vaseline along my hairline with her thumb, her hand anchored to the top of my head. My heart swelled, aware of the space between us, her fingertips gliding along my skin. I sat stock-still, afraid if I moved, I'd actually do the things I was imagining doing with her.

Cool it, Joohyuk.

I tried to think of something to say to keep my mind from getting too twisted up in dirty thoughts. What about that guy she was with last week at Soop? Had that been her dance date? Was he her boyfriend? Bringing up that would be such an obvious fish for information but . . . I'd been that guy. The one who'd been oblivious to something going on right under his nose. Not that there was anything going on. Oh, hell. I just wanted to know.

"Who was that guy you were with last week at Soop?"

She put the lid back on the jar and wiped her hands on a paper towel.

"Minho? I introduced you, right?"

"Yeah, is he your, um, boyfriend?"

She bit her lip as she poured white liquid from one of the bottles and began whisking the mixture in the bowl. "He's a boy, and he's my friend, so . . . I don't know, that sounds so serious. Boyfriend. We hang out, how's that for a definition?"

"I guess it's good." Was it? I'd seen them together. They looked like a couple to me, but I was here now. Were we hanging out? Dyeing hair was probably number one on the Best Ways to Stay in the Friend-zone top ten list. Hard to have ytimes when your hairline has a strip of petroleum jelly on it. I relaxed into the chair. iness subsiding. Talk of the other guy the equivalent of a cold shower.

Just then the front door groaned open. Suzy's eyebrows rose in surprise. Heavy footsteps and the sound of paper rustling followed until a tall guy with a beard walked through the doorway, arms full of grocery bags. He stopped, looked at me, then Suzy.

"What's up?"