Now and for the Last Time

23 장

"What time is it?"

"You're not supposed to ask that, remember?"

We'd made this rule around 4 a.m., when it was dark and still had a while until daybreak. Now, though, two hours and change later, the sky was turning lighter and purple, the stars fading even as I tried to keep track of them. Morning was here.

And we were where we'd started, just below the hotel, on the sand. After finishing our muffin and coffee, we'd walked back along the boardwalk, then the narrow main road of Sangya, passing a couple of blinking streetlights and only a handful of cars. When the hotel sign had appeared in front of us, I'd wanted to keep walking, going as far in the other direction as we could. But Jongsuk's dad was leaving at 8 a.m. sharp for the long drive back to their house, just on the outskirts of Sangya. So instead, we went to the beach, where we found a row of folded lounges, took one, and curled up together.

I'd never felt so close with anyone, ever. Maybe this was because of what happened earlier, beneath the pier. My lips had been sticky with fruit and chocolate, Jongsuk's breath sugar-sweet coffee as he eased me back into the damp, cool sand. I'd expected to be nervous my first time, and never would've thought it have happened like this. But as he slipped my dress of my shoulders, then eased up the skirt, I'd found myself arching up to meet him as if I'd known every move ahead of time and had only to do them. He'd asked if I was sure so many times after sliding on the condom that I finally covered his mouth with my own to silence him. It hurt a bit, which I'd expected, and I'd cried after, which I had not. We stayed there for a long while, the wind blowing sand across us now and then, my knees pulled to my chest, my head on his shoulder. For the first time in hours, we didn't talk, and in that silence I heard everything else I needed to.

Now, in his arms, facing the water, I could smell salt on his shirt and beneath it was the slight tinge of cologne, as well as sweat. It would only be matter of time before someone came along, walking with their dog or kid, making it clear that the beach, and the night, were no longer ours alone. Thinking this, I squeezed my eyes close, again willing time to stop. Like the game Jongsuk played with his friends, striking a deal - I would've given anything for a few more hours.

A seagull called overhead, flying. Somewhere a car horn beeped.

"One half and a half," Jongsuk said, right above my ear. I turned, looking up at him. In daylight I was noticing new things: the freckle on his chin, his eyes are monolid, the little bit of a stubble already coming in. "That's how long the drive from the beach to my house."

"That's not so bad."

"When you come," he told me, shifting. "I'll take you to WithJS, where they have the best bibimbap and limeade. And to the Guanyin of Nanshan, which is pretty much the only exciting thing besides the beaches."

"More exciting than limeade?"

"I know, it's hard to believe," he agreed.

"And when you come to Gwangju," I replied, running a finger down the buttons of his shirt, "I take you to Caffe Soo for famous coffees and the Nation First Love."

"Nation First Love?"

"It's a sculpture right outside this building downtown. The woman's a realtor or something? It's huge, with these crazy fabrics."

"Wow. That's better than our Guanyin of Nanshan for sure."

"I can't wait," I said.

"Me neither."

With every silence now, I was more aware of the passing of time.

"I'm so glad I left the wedding and came down here last night," he said. I couldn't decide if I wanted to close my eyes and just listen to him, or keep them open so I could have him in my sight as long as possible.