His Dream Life | Park Solomon

Chapter 2

Solomon and I agreed to do the project at his house and he'll take me there. I wait for him at the gate and he soon shows up.

"We'll take my car," Solomon says as he rummage through his pocket for his keys.

His car, I swallowed hard. He drives a black sedan that is well taken care of. I get inside, a little nervous for some reason, then he starts his car. The journey to his house is longer than I expected and through roads i've never went through. But, I can tell that it is an expensive neighborhood. There are not many houses, but each one is a mansion and there are lots of sports cars passing by. Eventhough the car ride is mostly silent, Seeing the spacious backyards is like having a break from the crowded neighborhood I live in.

"We're here. Don't forget your bag," Solomon says as he turns off his car. I grab my bag and we walk through his enormous frontyard to get inside his house.

"Ah, Solomon, you're here already!" A woman greets us the moment we went through the door. She looks beautiful and neat, like the rich ladies in movies. I assume that she's his mom.

"Mrs. Park, nice too meet you. I am Isla Jung, Lomon's classmate." I introduce myself politely and she smiles at me. "Nice to meet you, Isla. Solomon didn't tell me he's bringing a friend," she shakes my hand. "Sorry mom, I was so busy with the shoot yesterday," Solomon gives her an excuse.

Mrs. Park leads us to the back porch to start our project. His house is the most beautiful house i have ever been in. The house has mostly white interior and the back porch faces a beautiful garden. We take our supplies out of our bag while Mrs. Park prepare some snacks.

"Here, have some," she places a plate on the table and left us to do the project. It takes me a while to realise what's on the plate are hotteok.

"Are those hotteok?" I ask Solomon and he turns his head from his notebook to me. "Yes, my mom made those," he turns his attention back to his notebook. "What? She made these? I haven't seen these things ever since my trip to Korea years ago!" I say excitedly.

"My mom misses Korea a lot. Cooking, especially Korean food, it's therapeutic for her," he says. I eat one and go straight into the project.

"We need a plant. Do you have one?" I ask Solomon as I skim the list of materials needed for the project. He turns his head to the garden and say, "a few" with a confused smile on his face. How stupid of me.

We walk to the garden to pick out the plant and my eyes settle on a white rose.

"Your mom likes to plant too?" I ask. "No, I planted this beauty," he glides his hand on a petal and smiles. He looks so beautiful, it feels wrong for him to be in my sight. I try to say something. "Are you going to that party? The one Bela Cruz hosts. She's hosting it at a garden. Lots of flowers, which I'm sure you'll like." I clear my throat as I look away from him and touch the flowers. He shakes his head.

"Oh, I thought you'll at least come for...you know, the people,"

"You mean Bela Cruz? Malcolm Siers? That kind of people?"

I nod. "They're your friends, aren't they?"

He laughs dryly. "They've never said a word to me. And I.....I don't know, I don't feel like they like me." He huffs.

"Don't like you? No way. They probably adore you too much. They're....a little intimidated by you. I mean, that's what I assume." I blurt out, but he stays silent.

"You know you're really cool right? Not just school cool, but world cool," I say as I examine his face.

His face contorts to a disgusted expression. He pulls a rose like he was about to pluck it out, but changes his mind and plucks a leaf instead. "That's just....infuriating," he throws the leaf on the ground.

He takes a deep breath and it seems to have calm him down a bit. "So this flower then?" He asks, his voice more rough than usual. "Yeah, this one." I answer through my breath.

People thinking you're cool is infuriating? Why does it bother him so much? Questions build up in my head as we sit back down on the porch to continue the project.

He's so confusing, but i feel like i'm born to figure him out.