Somewhere Only We Know(12)

The girl’s eyes grew huge as she took everything in. We were surrounded by people and brightly lit signs. Off every side street were steep hills filled with bars and cafés. “I think I can find a hamburger here,” she declared.

“A hamburger?” I asked, looking at her intently. She was alert now—sleepiness completely wiped from her bright expression.

“Euh,” she said in Korean, nodding her head. “I’m hungry.”

“I gathered,” I said with a grin. “Well, I’m not sure where you can find one around here.”

“Where are you going?” All of her focus was suddenly on me. I started to feel hot under her gaze. It was like having a beam of sunlight on you—pleasing but a little too intense.

I paused and angled my head to get a good look at her. One second she seemed drunk out of her mind, and then another she seemed weirdly sober.

“Why? You wanna come?” The flirtation was instinctual and I immediately regretted it.

She tilted her head to match mine. Precisely, like a dance move. Her delicate finger pointed at me. “Yes. Take me with you.”





CHAPTER SEVEN


LUCKY


The cute guy looked surprised.

It was satisfying to catch this rando off guard. To have a moment of boldness. Now that I was outside, on the busy night streets of Hong Kong, surrounded by young people in pursuit of fun … well, I wanted some fun, too.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I had been anywhere without Ren, without supervision. Not only had I never snuck out, I never even had the desire to do it.

But I did do it. This night was turning out to be something beyond wanting a hamburger now. There was a chance that it would be impossible for me to go unnoticed after my performance on The Later Tonight Show. For the tiny bit of anonymity I had to get even smaller.

I looked up at the high-rise apartments and bright lights and felt a cool breeze sweep over my cheeks. I closed my eyes for a second. Yeah, I wanted a tiny piece of the freedom everyone else had. I wouldn’t be greedy. A thimble-sized serving of it would do.

The guy didn’t seem to know who I was, which was purrrrfect. I’d be able to hang out with a boy like a normal teenage girl. The idea energized me, even through the drowsy effect of the meds.

And there was something about this guy. Beyond his handsomeness level, which was off the charts. Even though I had been out of it on the bus, I remembered the inexplicable comfort I felt when I opened my eyes to see his worried face watching mine. The proximity of strangers usually made me recoil—put up a barrier. But the warmth in his eyes had put me at ease. There was concern, not curiosity, behind them.

He didn’t have to help me on that bus. Hold my arm so I wouldn’t eat it coming down those stairs. And he didn’t have to smile at everything I said, either, as if he found me endlessly entertaining.

Granted, he probably thought I was drunk.

“How old are you?”

The guy’s question came outta nowhere. I looked at him. “I’m twenty-one.”

He laughed, sharp and quick. “Okay, and I’m … Steve Jobs’s ghost.”

Sarcasm. I smiled, pleased, resisting bopping him on his very-well-shaped nose. “Nice to meet you, Steve Jobs’s ghost. You’re a lot more Korean in real life.”

Steve Jobs’s ghost ran a hand through his thick hair, fingers long and unexpectedly elegant. My eyes followed those fingers like a creep.

“Hey, how could you tell?” he asked.

“You spoke Korean earlier.” I remembered the rough “Ya” as he poked me. I thought I had been dreaming when I had heard it. “Also … your face.” I waved my hands in front of it to clarify.

The face made a face, but it was good-natured. “Well, your age doesn’t matter, I guess. Nobody cards here.”

Even in my woozy state, I could tell the guy was feeling conflicted about taking me along.

In what universe was a guy conflicted about hanging out with Lucky?

Everything about tonight was so different. So fresh. I felt buoyed by it.

Steve Jobs’s ghost took a deep breath. “All right, follow me. Are you sure you want to drink, though? You’re already wasted.” He started walking and I sped up to follow him, right at his heels. The surface of the stone-paved streets hurt my feet through the thin soles of my slippers.

“I’m not wasted! How dare you,” I protested as I took in my surroundings. We were walking up a steep hill and the bars and restaurants had their windows and doors thrown open. People were sitting on low plastic stools slurping noodles, standing at bars swigging beers, huddled in the street smoking. There was so much to look at, hear, and smell. It was sensory overload but it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

I lagged behind in all my gawking and the guy waited for me on a steep set of stairs, his hands resting on his hips. “Okay, you’re not drunk. Wearing hotel slippers. In public.”

“Don’t judge me,” I sniffed. As I followed, I spotted a couple making out in a dark corner. Well! I averted my eyes. “What’s your real name, anyway?” As the words came out, I nearly tripped on my oversized slipper and Steve Jobs’s ghost reached out just in time before I fell on my face.

He was still grasping my arms when I looked up at him. There was that concern again in his eyes. It was undeniably attractive. “Jack,” he answered.