Page 3 of XOXO

This is the VIP room, the largest in the bar that can hold up to twenty people.

I’m surprised to find a single person in the room. He’s a guyaround my age, seated in the corner with his back against the wall and his eyes closed.

I look for evidence of another person, but the long table is empty of food or drinks. If he’s renting the room by himself, he must be wealthy. His clothes look expensive. A silky shirt clings to his shoulders, and his long legs are clad in smooth black pants. His left arm is in a cast, but a Rolex glints from his right wrist—and are thosesleeve tattoos?

What teenager has sleeve tattoos?

I look back to his face, startled to see that his eyes are open. I wait for him to speak, but he remains silent. I cough to clear my throat. “Your time expired. If you would like to use the room longer, it’s fifty dollars an hour. Otherwise, you need to leave.”

That came out ruder than I intended. I blame the judges for putting me in a bad mood.

The silence that follows seems heightened with the strobe lights issuing from the disco ball on the ceiling.

Maybe he can’t speak English? He might befromKorea. No American kid is this stylish.

I try again, this time in Korean. “Sigan Jinasseoyo. Nagaseyo.” Literally, “Time’s up. Get out.” Though with honorifics, sotechnicallyI’m being polite.

“I heard you the first time,” he says in English. His speaking voice is low and smooth. He has a slight accent, a sort of warm curl around his words.

I feel an inexplicable blush rise in my cheeks. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

“I was trying to decide whether I should be offended.”

I point to the large laminated book at the center of the table that lists all the available karaoke songs by title. “The rules are written on the cover of the songbook. They stipulate that if you haven’t purchased more time after fifteen minutes, you have to leave immediately.”

He shrugs. “I’m out of money.”

I eye his Gucci loafers. “I highly doubt that.”

“They’re not mine.”

I frown. “You stole them?”

He pauses, then says slowly, “You could say that.”

Is he lying? Somehow I don’t think so. I hadn’t seen him come into the bar. How long has he been in this room? Alone. Who does that, unless they’re hiding from something? And maybe it’s because I just watchedAjeossi, but my mind jumps to one conclusion.

I step closer. He seems to mirror my movements, leaning away from the wall.

“Do you—” I drop my voice low. “Do you need help?” In crime dramas, the people my age aren’t ever in the gang because they want to be.

He shrugs. “Right now, fifty dollars would be great.”

I shake my head. “I’m asking if you’re in trouble? Like... with a gang.”

For a moment, he looks taken aback, his eyes widening slightly. Then my words seem to click into place and he drops his gaze. “Ah, so you’ve guessed it.”

I nod fervently. “You must be sixteen, seventeen...” I press.“There are laws to protect minors in the United States.” Maybe they’re holding something over him, like the safety of a sibling or a friend. “If you need help, you only have to ask.”

There’s a short pause, then he says softly, “If I asked you to save me, would you?”

My heart breaks a little. “I can try.”

He lifts his eyes to mine, and my breath catches. It’s almost unfair that someone could be so... beautiful. His skin is flawless. He has dark eyes and soft hair, and a full, cherry-red mouth.

He drops his head and his shoulders start to shake. Is he... crying? I move closer, only to see that he’s...

Laughing. He even slaps his knee with his good hand.

---