“Don’t forget Skip.”
“You do not work with a Skip.” She sees my face. “You do. I’m so sorry.”
“This isn’t me.” I tug at my hair. “I want to make partner. I want to be the city’s top lawyer. I want people coming to me for whatever’s the legal equivalent of a TED Talk. I don’t chase rock stars.”
“Idol,” she says. “Not rock star.”
“What?”
“Jihoon is a K-pop idol, not some graying old man in leggings screwing barely legal groupies in a tour bus. He’s disciplined, works hard, and trained daily for years to get to where he is.”
“The same feeling applies.”
She puffs out her cheeks. “Look. You’re coming at this from the wrong angle. You met him as Jihoon. That’s who he is. Min is who he is onstage. It’s his performance side.”
“He lied to me.” Not even a little lie, likesure, babe, that dress is pretty. Jihoon’s lie blew through the stratosphere.
“Last summer, when that guy at the bar asked for your number, you faked an Irish accent and said you were flying back home to Moose Jaw the next day.”
I glare at her. “I hardly think me getting a stranger off my back is on par with Jihoon’s story. He played me.”
There. It was out. He’d played me—both of them did—and I feel foolish. I mean, how oblivious could I be that I didn’t recognize he was lying to my face? I’m a lawyer—a good one—and I couldn’t even read that blatant a fib. What does that say about me, about my judgment? My perspicacity?
“Ari.” Hana’s voice softens. “It’s a big world, and you can’t be expected to know every part of it. The question is, now that you know, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. What can I do?”
“For crying out loud.” Hana’s momentary sympathy evaporates when it butts against the immovable force that is my self-pity. “Will you listen to yourself? You like him. Had fun with him. He likes you.” She pauses. “I’ve never seen you so open with someone, Ari. It’s like you’ve known each other for ages. Yeah, he lived in our place, but you two clicked. Eventually.”
I sigh, and this time I know Hana hears it as the defeat it is. “I do like him, but I feel used. And…small. He’s surrounded by beautiful, famous women who get him. Who get that lifestyle.”
“You are beautiful, inside and out, so shut up. Plus, to Jihoon, you get him.”
“Not the pressure of that life. Also they speak Korean.”
“Korean is not some alien language where you have to amputate a limb to communicate. Get a goddamn app.”
I ignore that. “The distance is a problem. We’re both busy at work.”
“Those are legitimate concerns,” Hana allows.
“I don’t know what to do.” I always know what to do. I don’t act unless I know exactly what the outcome will be. This is so out of thebounds of what I normally experience that I don’t even have a blueprint of how to reasonably approach it.
“You don’t need to do anything but talk to Jihoon,” Hana says.
“Sounds better in theory,” I grumble.
Hana leans over and gives me a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I know.” I’m not mad anymore, only worn out.
“Jihoon is as well.”
I’m done thinking about this tonight. There’s a headache localized entirely in my left temple. “I’ll sleep on it.”
“You do that.” She leaves, and I tuck into bed.
The black-out shades on the window give the room a deep darkness that’s almost like the inside of a movie theater before your eyes adjust. Scenes play of Jihoon laughing and playing with my hair. How could he not tell me? What else is he hiding? He was so good at showing me only the parts of himself he chose, and there I was like a loser, talking to him about real things that mattered to me. Actual feelings about work and my family. I thought it was real, but the time we had was as authentic as a stage set.