Page 117 of Elevator Pitch

You’ve created a recipe for Greyson to fall in love with you.

That’s not what I was trying to do. At least, I don’t think so. I mean, would it be so bad if Greyson were to fall for me? Yes, because he deserves someone who can love him back. The last time I loved someone, it consumed me. I hyper focused on it, so much that I hadn’t even noticed it wasn’t mutual. The last time I loved someone, I mistook his attentiveness for adoration. He studied me with a goal to manipulate and abuse. I was nothing but a target. The last time I loved someone, it swallowed me whole. I fear that my heart won’t recover from the damage it’s endured. I desperately wish that I was someone who could slap a band-aid on my wounds and push forward, but I’m not. I need recovery time.

That’s it. I’m overthinking and I need to just relax. Elena meant no harm by her comment and it’s not like Grey said it himself. We established rules and falling in love is against them. We have an understanding and everything has been perfect so far. Why would it stop now? If he did break the rule, he’d tell me, right? And if I broke the rule and fell for him, I would know right? Shit. I’m doing it again. I need to get out of my head. We’re going to have a great dinner together and Greyson is going to be pleased. I look myself over in the mirror before I head back out there.

I exit the bathroom with slow steps, wringing my hands as I return to the kitchen. Mrs. Park turns around with a warm smile.

“We’re almost done, so I’m going to call them,” she says, exiting the kitchen.

When she returns, she announces, “They’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

I can hear my heart beating in my ears and as if Mrs. Park can sense my nerves, she comes up beside me and gives my arm a gentle squeeze. When I meet her gaze, she’s holding a bottle of Riesling. A silent offering.

“Yes, please.”

55

make a wish

Greyson

Manhattan, NY | March 11, 2024

I turnthe key to my door of my apartment, and darkness welcomes me as I step inside. I’m suddenly brought back to that night eight years ago and my stomach sinks. I consider turning around and leaving, but my dad is on my heels. I take a breath when he squeezes my shoulder, urging me to move forward. When we close the door behind us, Clifford starts sniffing and darts towards the couch. The house is still silent until we hear a thud, followed by a hushed “Dammit” and a fit of familiar giggles.

I flick the light switch and “Surprise” is exclaimed in unison, with Dad joining in. Mom, Selah and my friends come out of hiding with nervous smiles. I’m stunned, I glance over my shoulder at my smiling dad who was in on this. Henry pops up from where Clifford disappeared to. Supposedly, he was smuggling food before dinner, so of course my dog charged him, causing him to topple over. I’m excited to see him and my friends, who I realize have heard a lot about Selah, but haven’t met her before now.

I stand there just taking it all in for a moment and I’m grateful. My friends greet me with hugs, and I thank them for coming. Alex brings me a finger of whiskey, I catch up with him and Elena, finding myself glancing at Selah often. She must’ve gone home to change, and I can’t wait to rip this dress off her. I’ll admire it for now, but it’ll get better acquainted with my floor tonight. That is, if she hasn’t had enough of me yet. She’s in the kitchen talking to my parents and they are hitting it off. Henry was helping and stealing food, so I assume mom kicked him out since he’s setting the table. She finally notices me staring and I urge her to join me. Moments later, she makes her way over with a glass of white wine and my hand is on the small of her back the moment she’s in reach.

The north to my south, an undeniable attraction.

She fits right into the conversation, and I can tell off rip that my friends like her. They’re very opinionated, Alex especially. He’s direct and would’ve let me know immediately if something seemed off about her. Whereas Elena tends to be more delicate with her delivery.

After a few minutes, I excuse us so we can have a moment to chat alone. There’s a worried expression on her face that I want to kiss away.

“I hope you’re not upset. It was my idea to invite Henry and your friends. Then they told me that’s how you liked to celebrate before?—”

I interrupt and take her hand to graze my thumb over her knuckles. “This is perfect. I’m not upset. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this morning. I just don’t have?—”

“It’s okay. We were a bit distracted anyway,” she says, looking down at her feet.

“That we were. I won’t keep anything from you again. You didn’t have to do all this,” I wave toward the party. “But I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

She meets my gaze and the tension in her shoulders has melted away.

“It gets better than this, you’ll see. I wanted to do this for you. Everyone should be celebrated on their birthday.”

I’m already picturing what to do for her birthday, even though she hates surprises.

I realize how hesitantly I’ve been in fear of scaring her off, but what she pulled off last minute is proof that I’m not the only one interested in something more. The day began with her coming on my tongue and ended with her planning a surprise dinner for my birthday. I’m tempted to kiss her in front of everyone right now. How else could I thank her?

The thought is fleeting once my brother whines, “Can we eat, already? I have nibbled enough and Clifford took the last of my stash.”

The room bursts into laughter. Henry Park, always ruining the moment.

I should’ve done it as soon as it crossed my mind. The next time I kiss her I may not come up for air.

My mom comes up and directs me to the spread on my dining table, half of it is full of my favorite Korean dishes. Galbi Jjim?1, algamja jorim?2, hobak bokkeum?3, kimchi bokkeumbap?4, sangchu geotjeori?5, and miyeokguk?6, which is a birthday tradition in our culture. I smile when I notice the Wanja Jorim?7 that my mom was teaching Selah to make earlier. Her taking the time to learn about my culture and prepare this meal with my family is a gift.

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