O1: Our First Encounter

“Ma-i,” I point to myself before looking back at the dictionary, “leh-jo-bae-syeon,” I pronounce the word in English with much difficulty, “urm…urm, Mi-seu-teo Jiyong. Korea,” I add the name of country I came from after a short pause.

   Oh God, that was hard!

   The receptionist looks at me with furrowed eyebrows as she tries to digest my words. I bite my lips in anticipation, hoping that she understands my (extremely terrible) English. Fortunately, it only takes about a second before she nods her head, indicating that she understands what I said. I guess this isn’t her first time encountering a non-English-speaking and non-Japanese-speaking guest, judging by the way she could understand my barely recognizable English.

   She starts typing on the computer but then I can see her pinching her eyebrows together. She then gives me a polite nod, asking me to wait for a moment. After I nod my head, she tries to get the duty manager and dashes into the room behind the desk.

   As I wait for her, I look around me and my gaze lands on a tanned man approaching the reception. He is wearing a dark grey round-neck T-shirt along with a pair of faded light blue jeans. His jeans is hanging low on his waist, and as he messily ruffles his hair, his T-shirt is stretched upwards a little bit, giving me a peek of what is hidden underneath and oh — wow — his lower abdomen is tanned and it is definitely well-defined — he’s got abs!

   God bless beach boys!

   My insides are getting all tingly as I say my prayers to the God of the deep blue sea, that I don’t realize that he is already standing right next to me, leaning against the counter. Slowly, I bring my gaze from his mid-body upwards to take a view on his face and damn! —That’s when I realize that he is staring at me with an eyebrow raised above his left eye.

   Uh-oh — busted.

   I blush as I trap the corner of my bottom lip between my teeth, looking at him. I nod my head once in his direction and flash him my famous eye-smile which is known to melt the hearts of all boys. Slowly, I can see his lips curling up to form a smirk.

   Based on my experience with boys, anytime now, I know that he will be asking for my number or give him mine, which ever floats his boat. Well, technically, my experiences are only limited to Korean boys but hey, — what does race got to do with gender? Boys are boys. And when the chance is shoved right in their face, I know for a fact that they won’t let it go.

   Okay, I shall start my countdown now — five…four…three…two…one…and—

   Nothing…

   Nothing.

   I am dumbfounded. Instead of coming closer towards me, asking for my number or giving me his number, he scoffs and after rolling his eyes with an amused slight shake of his head, he turns away from me and looks for something behind the counter. His face then turns back into expression-less in just a split second.

   Unbelievable!

   Can you believe that? He freaking scoffed at me! Ugh — what an .

   Knowing fully well that he can’t understand whatever I’m saying (judging by the way he looks and the tan on his skin, I assume that he must be a Japanese who works in this resort), I scoff back at him in Korean, “Tsk, just because you have some hot body, you think you are better than everyone else? You’re just lucky you live by the beach.”

   I know he can hear me, since I make sure that my voice is completely audible for his ears but then again, I know he can’t understand me since I’m speaking in Korean. That is why I find it rather amusing when I see the corners of his lips curving upwards, a smug and amused expression forming on his face.

   “Why are you smirking? It’s not like you can understand me or something. Tsk, you want to know something? I think God made the wrong decision, giving you a perfect looking face and hair that looks like you are shooting a shampoo commercial. Given such an advantage, you should have used it well, being friendly with the rest of the humankind — not look like some sort of snob to someone who smiles at you,” I indirectly tell him.

   His smirk suddenly turns into a grin and he starts shaking his head. I swear I can hear him chuckling a little. Right when I’m about to comment more on him, the receptionist returns back from the room.

   She gives me the key to my room and shows me the key-holder that has my room number on it. I nod my head, but then she starts talking again. She’s talking in what I assume is a mixture of the Japanese and English language and this only means one thing — I have completely no idea what she’s saying. I think the dazed expression on my face must’ve given the hint that I can’t understand her. She scratches her head a little, trying to find another way of explaining it to me again when—

   “She’s telling you that the bell boy will help deliver your luggage to your room, and that the breakfast is from six to ten in the morning. All you need to do is bring the coupon that she had already put inside the key-holder and they will let you in,” a voice from beside me speaks in fluent Korean.

   Oh my God!

   My eyes widen as I let what had just been said sink in to my brain. Oh dear God of the deep blue Japanese sea, please help me by telling me that the voice did not just come from the person I think it came from.

   I gulp the saliva that is stuck at the base of my throat and slowly turn my head to my right. I press my lips into a straight line and flash him the brightest eye-smile I can muster. I can tell that my face is turning into an exact replica of a tomato when I see him smiling smugly at me with both of his eyebrows raised. I flip my bangs on my forehead to the side once and try my best to keep up my cool.

   Whatever I do now, I cannot embarrass myself any further and let him think that he had just won a sort of undeclared game.

   “Ohh,” I nod my head at him, “thanks for the translation.”

   “No problem.”

   “I don’t speak Japanese and English.”

   Oh my God, I need to stop talking — now.

   “I can tell,” he smirks.

   “I didn’t know you speak Korean.”

   I can see his smirk getting smugger by second and I really blame my mouth. Which part of the “Stop talking!” instruction that my brain had sent does it not understand? Stupid, stupid mouth!

   “Yeah…” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I kind of figured that out.”

   Not wanting to embarrass myself any further and knowing fully well that if I were to linger there for another second, not only my mouth will betray me, but also other body parts of mine, I pick up the key-holder on the reception desk.

   “So…” I say, waving the key-holder in front of him, “I should get to my room. Err…” I stutter, not knowing what to say when he cuts me.

   “See you around,” he says with one corner of his lips curled up in amusement. And just like that, he turns from me and walks away from the reception desk…

   Leaving me alone, completely dumbfounded.