Hello, I Love You (30 page)

Yoon Jae stands with me as I hover outside the store. “I—I want you to know something.” He falls silent a moment, then says hesitantly, “Jane is a sweet girl, but I don’t want to make her think I am interested in her.”

I catch him squirming. “What? Oh, Yoon Jae, I’m sorry! I wasn’t ever serious. I was just joking. She’s got a major crush on you, but she knows you’re a year older than her. And you live in a different country.”

It’s strange, being here with him. After hearing Jason’s side of the story, I vilified Yoon Jae in my mind. But now I think it was all just a big mistake on everyone’s part. Jason and Yoon Jae never should have been put together in the first place.

“Your sister was right about something, however,” Yoon Jae says, breaking through my thoughts.

“What about?”

He stares down at the foot he scuffs across the pavement. “I
am
looking for a girlfriend.”

“Well, I won’t be able to help you there, unfortunately. The only girl I know here is Sophie, and she is pining away for someone else.”

“Actually, I meant a specific girl.”

I perk. “Really? Who?”

His mouth melts into a sad smile. “You really don’t know?”

A whisper of unease settles over me as my mind processes what he could mean. But he couldn’t—that’s not what he meant—surely.

Jane appears, saving me from having to respond.

She holds up a skin cream. “Got it!”

The entire way back to the subway station, I’m thinking about what Yoon Jae said. When we drop him off in Incheon so he can take a car back to school, he smiles at Jane and even gives her a hug, although I’ve never seen a guy in Korea hug a girl he just met. My estimation of him skyrockets.

“It was very nice to meet you,” he says.

“Y-you, too,” she sputters, starry-eyed.

He shoots me an unreadable look, like he’s waiting for something. “Goodbye, Grace,” he says, with such a final tone that I pause.

I wave. “I’ll see you later. At graduation, right?”

He flashes me that sad smile again. “Right.”

Jane gushes about Yoon Jae the second he leaves. “He’s even cuter in person than he is in pictures! And I like what he’s done with his hair. Super cute. And his outfit? Adorable.” She elbows me in the side. “But why didn’t you tell me he’s practically in love with you?”

I freeze. “What?”

“Like you’ve never noticed. You could wipe the drool from his chin every time he looks at you.”

“Jane, that’s not funny. Yoon Jae doesn’t like me that way.”

But my thoughts return to what he said earlier. Is that really what he meant? He never said anything to me about it. Not that I’ve said anything to Jason about what I feel for him. But still. Why didn’t he ever mention it?

My phone buzzes, and I check the screen to see Jason calling.

“Are you free for dinner or no?” he asks.

Butterflies soar inside my stomach. “I’m actually showing my sister around today.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“But we’d love to go to dinner with you,” I hurry to say. “Right, Jane?”

I mouth,
Yes!
to her, and she shrugs.

“She said she really wants to meet you,” I say into the phone, causing Jane to roll her eyes.

“Great.” I can practically hear him smiling over the phone.

We agree on a Western restaurant that also offers Korean options, close to Momma and Jane’s hotel, and she and I head there directly. Along the way, Jane is suspiciously quiet.

“What’s got you tongue-tied?” I ask. “You’re never this quiet unless you’re sleeping.”

She takes a long time to answer. “You like him a lot, don’t you?”

I mask the nervousness flaring inside me with a laugh. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Gracie, it’s written all over your face. You’ve fallen for this guy. Hard.”

I bite back the denial, knowing I won’t ever be able to say it with a straight face.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking him. Boys are awesome—obviously.” She grabs my arm and leans close, nearly tripping me. “Do you
love
him?” she asks, drawing out the
o
.

I shake her off. “Jane!”

She cackles. “I can’t wait to meet him. I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of all your embarrassing baby stories.”

I shoot her a nasty look. “You weren’t even alive when I was a baby.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen all the pictures. And I’m pretty good at making things up.”

By the time we reach the restaurant, I’m about to strangle her. Jason arrived first, and he waits for us just outside. He takes off his sunglasses, and his entire face brightens when he spots us. He waves as we approach.

“Gracie, he’s
cute,
” Jane whispers into my ear.

“Shut up,” I hiss.

“You must be Jane.” Jason shakes her hand with a wide smile. “It’s great to meet you. I know Grace was happy you came.”

“Was she?” Jane raises both eyebrows at me. “You never said that.”

“Because you wouldn’t stop yapping for me to get a word in,” I say.

We head inside and get a table in the back. A few diners point at Jason and whisper behind their hands, but no one approaches him. They stare, though. Not that I can blame them. With his black V-neck and cherry red sneakers, I’m staring, too.

“So how are you missing school right now?” Jason asks.

Jane shrugs. “My dad got me out of it. He’s cool like that.”

I snort but don’t comment.
Cool
isn’t the word I would use for him.
Intense
maybe, but not
cool
. Then again, he’s always been a lot easier on my little sis—the baby of the family.

Jane clasps her hands on top of the table and leans forward. “So, Jason, I hear you and my sister are good friends.”

“I guess so.” He smiles at me.

“What are your intentions toward her?”

I kick Jane under the table, but she doesn’t break her intense stare.

“No intentions,” he says, maintaining a pleasant exterior I didn’t know he could have for strangers. “Just friends.”

Okay, ouch. Never thought
just friends
would sound so depressing.

The server brings our food, and Jane is momentarily distracted by her
seolleongtang
—ox bone soup—from continuing with the awkward questions. After a few slurps, though, she resumes with, “Have you asked her out on a date yet?”

I nearly choke on my rice, and Jane slaps my back as I cough.

Jason keeps up his smile, however, looking nonplussed. “No, but I would if I thought she’d say yes.”

I gape at him, my chopsticks falling out of my fingers.

“You must have misread the signs, then,” Jane says, “because I’m pretty sure she would say yes to anything you asked.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” I shove back my chair and stand. “Jane, outside. Now.”

She takes one more slurp, then lets me lead her to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

“What are you
doing
?” I cry. “You can’t just embarrass me like that!”

“You obviously need a little help. You’ve been crushing on that boy for months, and nothing has happened. You both need a shove in the right direction.”

“No, we don’t! You don’t understand anything.” I run both hands through my hair, drawing in slow, deep breaths through my nose to calm myself. “Jane. Please. Just stop.
Please
.”

She shrugs. “Fine.”

And without letting me say anything else, she heads back into the restaurant. The rest of our dinner is spent with her and Jason chatting it up and laughing like they’re old friends, and me sulking, huddled over my food.

It’s weird, seeing them together. Much weirder than Jane and Sophie squealing about cute Korean singers. Maybe because this feels more like she’s meeting my boyfriend.

After dinner, Jason walks with me when I drop Jane off at her hotel.

Jane takes my arm and pulls me close to her. “We need to talk tomorrow. After the ceremony. I’m going with Mom to get our nails done tonight.” Her eyebrows pull together in concern, a look I’m not used to seeing her wear. “And don’t worry about her. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

She hesitates a moment, then says, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You know that, right?”

I manage to offer her a half smile, but it feels like my insides are being squeezed.

Jane hugs me goodbye, waves at Jason, then disappears into the hotel. Jason and I walk back to to where the car will pick us up, the sounds of the city in the air between us instead of conversation, as I grapple with Jane’s parting words.

His company’s driver returns us to the school campus, and when we reach my building, Jason stops me. “Don’t be angry with Jane. She was just joking. And she meant well.”

I shrug one shoulder. “I guess.”

He chuckles. “Besides, she managed to get some things out in the open that we’ve been tiptoeing around for months.”

My pulse leaps, all thoughts of Momma blown out of my head. “What things?”

He takes a step closer. “I know I really butchered saying it last time, but I like you a lot. That hasn’t changed. And judging by the way you act around me, I would guess you like me, too.”

He looks at me with such hope in his eyes that I nearly break down and scream,
Yes! Yes, I like you!
But I don’t. I can’t.

“Jason, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why?”

Because you’re even more screwed up than me,
I want to say.
Because I’m terrified that you’ll end up like your dad and my brother, and because you may have no intention of hurting me, but one day, you will. Because all that stuff you said about me being a distraction, because you’re embarrassed by me—it’s all because you have issues, and I can’t handle them.

But all I say is, “Because we would never work.”

He stares at me in confusion. “Why not?”

I grasp for any sort of excuse, but what comes out is the truth: “I don’t trust you.”

“Seriously?” His face falls. “What have I done to make you think I’m untrustworthy?”

“Nothing.” I wave him off. “It’s nothing.”

He shakes his head. “I’m serious. I want to know so we can work this out.”

“We’re never going to be able to ‘work this out,’ so there’s no point. And I’m not going to waste my time talking about it.”

His confusion morphs into frustration. “Why are you saying these things? I know we had a rocky start, but I thought we were friends now.”

“We
are
friends.”

“So why don’t you trust me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “Maybe because you always act like you’re embarrassed by me.”

He rolls his eyes. “That was one time, and you totally misinterpreted the situation, anyway. I don’t understand what you want me to do.”

“Nothing! I don’t want you to do anything.” My eyes sting, and I suddenly feel like I swallowed a rock. “I think … we shouldn’t be spending so much time together.”

“Are you serious?” He pauses. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No,” he interrupts angrily. “You don’t get to make this decision alone.”

“Jason—”

“No!” He jabs a finger at me. “You’re accusing me of doing things I never did and painting me as some kind of jerk. But you’re wrong. I—”

“You what?” I lower my voice to a hiss. “You’re the one who acted like you didn’t know me when we were in Seoul, like you were ashamed of me. And that stunt at the nightclub didn’t fix anything. And what? You’ve changed your mind now? I’m not embarrassing anymore? How do I know you won’t change your mind again if we get together?”

He swallows hard. “I really hurt you when we were in Seoul, didn’t I?”

I throw my hands into the air, fear tightening my chest, knowing that he’s right—he
did
hurt me. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say.

With a huff, I turn and stomp toward the door to my building. But I pause with my hand on the knob when Jason says, “You’re scared. You want to be with me, but for whatever reason, you’re too afraid to try. Maybe it has to do with your family or your past, but don’t blame this on me. I’ll admit I’ve said some stupid things, but I’m not the bad guy you’re making me out to be.” His voice drops so I can barely hear it. “I really do like you, and you can believe me when I say I’m not going to hurt you.”

And even though I know I shouldn’t want it, a part of me hopes he
is
a good guy and someone I can trust, that he’ll prove that to me. Because I want to be worth something to somebody.

Chapter Twenty-five

Big Brother,

Sometimes I want to blame you. I want everything to be your fault because you’re gone and don’t have to deal with the consequences. I wasn’t the one who put the pills in your hand. So why do I feel responsible?

At your funeral, everyone kept saying you “passed away,” like it was something peaceful. But it wasn’t. You didn’t “pass away.” You died. We dance around the word like it could catch, like it’ll leave a stain on us. And in the process, we give it more power, like just saying it out loud will somehow summon it.

I still miss you, but I’m also still angry at you for leaving us, for making me have to face Momma, for forcing me to run away. You got to escape, but I’m left here dealing with the aftermath. Even in Korea, I can’t get away. No matter how many planes I take or how many miles I travel.

It’s not fair. I don’t want to feel like this. But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to make myself better.

I love you—I do. I just don’t understand why you did it. Maybe I never will. I think I’ll probably always wonder.

I don’t even know why I write you these letters in a notebook full of paper I’ll never mail or why I pray every night that I’ll wake up to a missed call from your number. The same reason I still expect to see your picture in celebrity magazines and your name on unread emails in my inbox, I guess.

Maybe one day, thinking about you won’t hurt as much. Or maybe it will. Either way, these letters are from me to you …