Page 43 of One True Loves

My stomach does a weird flip-floppy thing. I adjust the Sea-Bands around my wrists, but that doesn’t seem to help.

We agree to meet on Deck 4, out on the promenade. I change into this yellow lace dress with big puffy sleeves, and then feel stupid and change back because why in the world am I changing just to hang out with Alex, and then change back into the yellow dress again because I look fire in it and really it’s stupid to not wear it because of Alex. It’s a journey.

The sun is setting when I walk out onto the promenade—five, okayten, minutes late because of the dress indecision. I squint and shade my eyes as I scan the deck, looking for Alex. We spot each other at the same time, locking eyes, and his face crinkles up into a full-on cheese. My stomach does that weird flippy thing again. Stupid, unreliable Sea-Bands.

I’m relieved to see that he changed, too. A crisp white button-up, black pants cuffed at the ankle, and brown leather brogue oxfords. The light makes his skin look like it’s glowing rose gold.

“Hey, birthday girl!” He holds his arms out as I approach, and it takes me a few moments to comprehend that he’s reaching for a hug. Okay, so I guess we hug now.

I move in close, breathing in his clean laundry smell, and then I realize, with horror, that he can probably hear mesmelling him, like some creeper. So, I jump back quickly, suddenly fascinated by the ground.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say. “CP time.”

He blinks, and his cheeks go red. “Um... are you allowed to say that?”

I look up at him, searching for the joke, but he’s totally serious. “Yes, I have a permission slip, signed by the ancestors and passed down from generation to generation. Don’t you?”

His brow is still furrowed, and I laugh. “I’m Black. I can say it,” I clarify. “And, hey, you’re Black, so you can too!”

He bites his bottom lip, which I’ve noticed he does when he’s sifting through something in his mind, trying to find the right words to say. He motions to the right with his head, and starts walking. I follow.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. That makes sense. I probably err on the side of a little too cautious,” he says finally, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it may be a biracial kid thing. Because, like, formesaying it, I guess it’s just—okay, sorry if this is weird, but I’m gonna get a little deep for a second?”

I smile. “Proceed.”

“My friend Michael says I do this too much. Overthink something small in my head and take it way further than anyone was trying to go. I guess those emotional intelligence questions maybe weren’t too far off in their assessment of—”

“You’re rambling. Get on with it already!”

He nods. “It’s just that I have this racial imposter syndrome, you know? It’s hard to know where I fit in.”

“Oh, so wearegetting deep here.”

He smirks. “Hey, you asked for it!”

“I did, I did. Well, let me help you here.” I stop walking and make a show of looking him up and down. “You Black.”

His head falls back in laughter, and the sound warms me up. He starts walking again. “How can you be so sure?”

I shrug. “Because that’s how the world sees you. It’s not like people are going to ask to check your credentials. Your Black card doesn’t have percentages on it.”

“So that’s how it works?” he says. “However I’m perceived is who I am? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“What?” I give him the side-eye. “You have a problem with being Black?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” He shakes his head. “But it feels... weird, you know? To deny a whole other side of me. Like, I went to hagwon—that’s Korean school—every Saturday until I was a freshman in high school. My parents host Lunar New Year for the family every year. I’m just as much Korean as I am Black.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I get that,” I say. “I guess I was just thinking of my friend Tessa. She’s biracial too, but she calls herself Black. Then again, her other half is white, so...”

We look at each other and both shrug at the same time, which makes us both then burst into laughter.

“So,” he says. “When you first saw me, then... you thought I was Black?”

Well, when I first saw you, I thought you were super hot, a leadingman straight out of the love story Tessa has been planning for me. When I first saw you, I was inspired to waste two perfectly good euros by tossing them into the Trevi Fountain. But, of course, he doesn’t need to know all that. He didn’t see me until the teen mixer, when he tried to use me to make his ex-girlfriend jealous. “Yep, Blackity-Black-Black.” I nod. “But now I know, Korean too.”

He throws his head back in laughter again. I love that I’ve inspired that, but I also want to push those weird feelings down. “Man, sorry for getting real serious, real fast.”

“Yeah, are we going to break down the one-drop rule next? The three-fifths compromise? I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my birthday.” I smile. “But you don’t have to be sorry. I like hearing what you think.”

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