OUR HEARTBEAT [BEOMJUN] ✅

eight

“I don’t want to hear how you thought it was fine,” I said to Arin as soon as we were out of the room and walking down the wide hall.

“I wasn’t going to say that at all. That was awful. You kind of sucked.”

“Hey!”

“It was more that nobody real called in. You sucking was secondary.”

I pushed open the door at the end of the hall. The heat of the day mixed with the scent of pine hit me at once. I stopped for a moment to breathe it in. It smelled a little like the lake and that helped release my tension.

“Thank you for saving us at least a little bit,” I said, glancing gratefully at Arin. “You’re the best.”

“Of course.” She paused. “And you know, I really do worry about you, Gyu. And the stuff with Taehyun.”

I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I love you but I don’t want to talk about Taehyun.”

“I know.”

“No, really.”

“Okay, I promise I’ll stop after this one question—I was right, wasn’t I? You really are still hung up on him. I suspected, because you haven’t looked at another guy in months. But I thought maybe I was wrong.”

“I’m one step past hung up on him. I was hung up on him over the summer, now I’m …”

“Hung down on him?”

I laughed. “Off the hook but still touching it?”

She shook her head. “Well, instead of touching that hook, you can help me in my romantic endeavors.”

“Are you still coming to Liz’s tutoring thing with me on Monday so you can hang out with Yeonjun there?” I asked as we headed to my car. This was the strategy we’d come up with after several discussions.

“Would that be too obvious?” Arin asked, twirling a strand of her dark hair around one finger.

“A little, but when has that ever stopped you?”

Arin laughed. “Okay. Since you are now the expert advice giver, I’m going to listen to you.”

“Funny. When does the podcast get posted online, anyway?” I asked.

“Friday.”

“Oh joy. Can’t wait for my debut.” It wasn’t like nobody listened to the podcast. It had actually built up quite a loyal following. I had two days to pretend this would all go away.

The wind whipped through my hair and pounded at my ears as I practically skidded across the lake on the WaveRunner. I knew I was driving fast, maybe too fast, but it felt good. I loved being out on the lake, doing something I was good at. I didn’t feel stupid or out of my element or judged. I felt strong and confident. I felt free.

Well, except for the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be out here. I was supposed to be cleaning this WaveRunner. A bucket of soapy water sat on the dock about twenty minutes behind me. It was nearing sunset and there was actually a whole row of WaveRunners I was supposed to clean. But as I’d stood on the dock, holding the bucket, I knew I needed this more.

I released my hold on the gas and the vehicle slowed to a stop. I put my forehead to the handlebars and let the tension melt out of my shoulders and back.

The way I felt now—relaxed and happy—was worth the look on my dad’s face as I pulled back up to the dock thirty minutes later. But not necessarily worth the fact that I realized he held a towel in his hand and had obviously just done my job.