Page 57 of XOXO

The crowd parts around us, though a few throw curious glances in our direction. He takes my hand and we make our way out of the crowd, dropping it once we’re clear.

Jaewoo must have a destination in mind because he walks without hesitation, leading me down an alley narrow enough that if I were to lift both arms, my fingers would skim the walls on either side. We climb a short flight of stairs, turn down a few more streets and alleys, and finally walk up such a long staircase that when I reach the top, I’m breathless.

We’re in a small park that overlooks the city. It has a running trail, a few public-use exercise machines, and a children’s play area with a set of swings.

“Want to...?” Jaewoo asks, and I nod. We make our way over to the swings, each taking one of the single seats. We face the same direction, toward the ledge. Beyond the railing, Seoul spreads out for miles and miles, hundreds of thousands of bright lights, twinkling like stars.

I haven’t been on a swing since I was in elementary school, so I kick off the ground, enjoying the rocking motion and the wind on my face. Jaewoo’s legs are longer so he doesn’t swing, leaning his head on the chain as he watches me. He’s removed his face mask and taken off his ball cap, and though he’s changed out of his performance clothes and washed the makeup from his face, he’s so handsome, it’s hard to look away.I give one final pump of my legs and as I’m swinging forward, Nathaniel’s baseball plops from out of my pocket onto the grassy floor.

Jaewoo leans down and picks it up. “Is this...?”

I dig my feet into the ground, slowing my momentum. “Yes,” I say, though now I’m blushing.

When Jaewoo says nothing, I look over to find him studying the ball, a contemplative look on his face.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. Laughs. “This ball”—he tosses it up in the air, then catches it—“is the reason I broke my arm back in November.”

I stop swinging altogether. “What?”

He grips the chain, grinning at my expression.

“It happened the last night of a long three-night shoot. We were filming in this warehouse, which we were warned had parts left unfinished, but we were feeling bored and stressed. During a break in the filming, Nathaniel and I decided to throw a baseball around. We were both in a little league, when we were younger.”

“Oh my God, that’s so cute,” I interrupt. “Sorry, continue.”

“So, yeah, we were passing it back and forth, having a great time. And then he threw it long, and I went for it. I felt the satisfaction of it hitting my glove just as I crashed into a plaster wall. The whole thing came down on top of me.

“The music video director was livid. He scolded us for an hour. He said that we weren’t grateful, that we were a dime adozen, that if we wanted to be successful we needed to take this seriously.”

“I don’t like that director,” I declare. “I don’t care how gorgeous the music video ended up being.”

Jaewoo shakes his head, though there’s a smile on his face. “We had to cut filming prematurely. Luckily we had an alternative ending, which was the one they eventually used. But still, I felt like such a disappointment. I broke my arm, and for what? A moment of fun. So after the shoot was over and we were at dinner, I excused myself from the table and just... left. I left the restaurant and walked and walked, until I saw the light of your uncle’s karaoke bar.”

He hesitates, and then says, softly, “I even saw you that night, laughing with your uncle as you sat on the barstool, your hair loose down your back.”

I stare at him in shock, rearranging that night in my head. Not that it makes a difference on how the night eventually played out.

I press my foot against the ground, but I must push at a wrong angle because the swing rocks crookedly.

“Why did you leave, Jenny?” Jaewoo asks, and my heart stutters in my chest, even though I knew he would ask me eventually.

This is the end. Once we have this conversation, there’s no reason to keep stubbornly holding fast to this connection between us. He needs to concentrate on what matters, his career.

And I need to get my act together and focus on what matters, my cello playing, the showcase, my future.

“For the same reason you left me the other day at the clinic,” I say, and I’m proud of myself because my voice comes out steady. “Nathaniel more or less spelled it out.” Jaewoo frowns. “It’s because you have more at stake. I get it, really. Our lives are too different.”

“Our livesaredifferent,” Jaewoo says, and my heart sinks, even though I literally prepared for this. “But that’s not why I left.”

My swing rattles, and I look up to see he’s seized onto the chain of my seat, pulling me close. I have to grab onto his chain in order not to fall back.

“I do have more to lose than Nathaniel,” he says, and the miserable feeling rises up. “After all, his heart’s not at stake.”

My breath catches. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“I like you, Jenny,” he confesses. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone before. It hit me that day at the clinic how much. And I did what I always do when I feel overwhelmed. I ran.”

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