Page 12 of XOXO

That sounds... ominous. “Can’t you turn your phone off again?”

“I think it’s time I go back.”

“Are you really okay?” I ask.

He smiles, a sweet smile. “I am now.”

My heart stutters.

“What about you?” He peers down the street. It’s mostly deserted, the festival having ended. “It’s past midnight.”

“My uncle just texted,” I lie. “He’s coming to pick me up.” I can walk the few blocks back to the karaoke bar, which doesn’t close until three, or I can call a rideshare.

Down the street, a van with blackout windows approaches. Gripping my wrist gently, Jaewoo leads me to a shadowed area beneath the awning of a building. “Wait here. I don’t want them to see you.”

“Jaewoo, I’m worried.”

My voice catches and he looks at me. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I’ll text you as soon as I can.” Then he adds, with a smile I don’t think I’ll ever forget, “Thanks, Jenny. I had a great time with you tonight.”

Pivoting, he walks from beneath the shadows. The van, which had been slowly driving down the street speeds up, stopping right by the curb. The back door slides open, and I get a glimpse of another boy inside before it slams shut behind Jaewoo.

As the van pulls away from the curb, I step from the shadows. I watch until I can no longer make out the shape of it on the road, swallowed up by the lights of the city.

Six

The sticker picture is a series of four small photographs printed vertically in the order they were taken. In the top picture, I’m frowning at the camera while Jaewoo, his back against the corner of the booth, has his eyes closed, in the middle of a blink. In the second picture, they’re open and he has a small smile on his face. I’m still frowning.

The third picture came out well. We’re both smiling and looking at the camera. I remember how I’d held my expression in place, determined to keep my smile from wavering and my eyes open. I’m relieved to find I managed to do both—I look normal. Pretty, even.

As for Jaewoo, he’s no longer leaning against the back of the wall, but sitting slightly forward. His head is tilted, and his eyes aren’t on the camera anymore. He’s looking at me, his expression caught between a smile and a laugh.

I feel my heart give a literal flutter in my chest.

Pulling out my phone, I snap a photo of the photo, then takeit again when it appears washed out against my kitchen table.

When I’m satisfied, I open up the number Jaewoo saved in my phone.

Here’s the photograph from tonight.I text.Btw, this is Jenny.I hit send.

There. That’s straightforward. Casual.

Immediately my texts are marked “read” and three dots appear. He’s typing! Was he waiting for my text? Also why does he have his read receipts on?

A message appears.Jumping on a plane. Text you when I land.

He’s flying outtonight? I knew he was from Seoul, but I didn’t think he was leaving so soon.

Okay. Have a safe flight!

My message is marked “read,” then...

Thanks .

Oh my god, he sent an emoji. How cute!

Footsteps approach the front door of the apartment, keys jingling for the lock. I quickly pocket the photo as my mom walks through the door.

She glances at me sitting at the kitchen table before sliding off her shoes, “You’re still awake?” She hangs her coat in the closet, slipping on a pair of house slippers—mine, in fact. It’s an easy mistake; we’re the same size. Same shoe size, same height, same oval-shaped face. People always comment on how much we look alike.

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