Heat wells up in my chest, but not the good kind. Anger. My eyes prick, and I realize I’m going to cry. Not okay. He’s not going to see me fall to pieces over this. Over him.
I clear my throat to get rid of the sob that sticks there. “I don’t know what that was all about, but I’m not interested in what you’re selling here. Maybe you think it’s funny to mess with me, but it’s not.”
I always complained about guys flattering me, but maybe this is worse. I’d rather be the trophy than the girl on the side.
His grip on my arm tightens, probably an attempt at comforting me, but it falls short. “I’m not trying to mess with you,” he says. “I—I don’t know what just happened, but it has nothing to do with you.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Nothing to do with me?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t take it like that.”
“Like what? That you just felt the need to kiss somebody and I happened to be close by?” I bark a mirthless laugh. “Wow. I never pegged you as that guy, but I guess everyone has their secrets. Glad I’ve seen the real you.”
“Grace, stop.” He places both hands on my shoulders. “I only meant that I’m confused right now. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know where we stand.” He pauses. “All I know is that I like you. A lot.”
My heart soars, but I squelch any good feelings and tell myself I’ll sort them out later. “You like me. But you’re embarrassed by me, for some reason. Is it because I’m not Korean? Does it have something to do with my family?”
He takes a step back like I’ve struck him. “What? No! Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re only ever nice to me when no one’s around,” I grind out through clenched teeth, my brain flashing back through every time he didn’t introduce me to someone or didn’t include me in a conversation, every time he was content with me hiding behind him or Sophie for the entire day, like I didn’t exist at all.
Once I get going, it’s like I can’t stop. And I only gain momentum, my bottled-up emotions and confusion overflowing.
“You didn’t want me helping you with the song with the other guys around,” I continue. “And then you held my hand when no one was looking. Our only good conversations come when it’s just the two of us, and now you kiss me but don’t want anyone to know. What does that make me? Obviously not anything that important to you.” My throat tightens, and I struggle to get the last words out. “I don’t think my coming home with you guys was a good idea. Maybe I should’ve gone home for break, after all.”
The thought sends a jolt of pain through me, not only because I would have missed out on meeting Jason and Sophie’s mom and seeing their home and their city, but also at the thought of suffering through my mother’s judgment and my father’s indifference, and facing emotions I’ve managed to squeeze into the back of my mind since I left home. But right now, it almost seems better to have just gone to Nashville and avoided having Jason look at me like this—like I’ve betrayed him. When really, he’s the one that hurt me.
I should have learned from Isaac. Boys that seem too good to be true usually are.
*
I actually consider going home for the holidays, but Momma’s squash casserole on Christmas isn’t worth the grief of looking her in the eyes. Though being around Jason is almost as bad.
Thankfully, he ships off to Busan for a week, and after Sophie takes me shopping and introduces me to a few of her friends who live in Seoul, she manages to convince me to stay for the rest of the break. But when Jason returns on Christmas Eve, the awkward factor leaps to a painful level.
I go with them to church again that night, then we head back to the house for another traditional Korean meal. I eat and talk and laugh along with everyone else, but my mind wanders to my house and my family, who will be eating our annual feast of honey-baked ham with crescent rolls, green beans, squash casserole, corn-bread muffins, and potato salad in about fourteen hours. I wonder if Dad will show up, or if he’ll duck out, saying he needs to work—his typical excuse these days.
My fingers itch to find my phone and call Jane, but I know that if I hear her voice, I’ll regret not going to see her. And I’ll probably cry.
After dinner, Sophie wrangles us all into playing cards on the living room floor beside the Christmas tree we decorated yesterday. We play Spades, and the Bae family teaches me Go-Stop, a Korean gambling game. Jason seems distracted the entire time, forgetting his turn and checking the clock a million times.
As we all make our way to bed, Jason stops me in the hallway. My pulse spikes at being alone with him, but I force my nerves to chill. I need anger, to use it as a shield or whatever people say about protecting themselves. But I can’t muster any. All I feel when I see him is exhaustion and regret.
“I need to talk to you,” he says.
“What about?”
“About our conversation before I left for Busan. And about … the kiss.”
I expect him to wince, but he keeps a straight face. An improvement, at least. Maybe he’s over the embarrassment, though I doubt he’ll ever mention it to anyone else.
He shifts uncomfortably. “You know I’m not good with words, and I feel like I offended you.”
I snort. “That’s awfully discerning of you.”
He continues, either ignoring the gibe or not noticing it. “I need to explain myself. Explain what I meant.”
“There’s no need to explain.”
“Yes, there is.” Determination hardens his eyes. “What I said about being confused is true. There are a lot of things going on in my life, with my family and the band. I don’t need any more distractions.”
“And I’m a distraction?”
“Well … yes.”
Ouch. Maybe I like being an embarrassment better.
“Sometimes, good things can be distractions, but they’re still good,” he says. “When I said I like you, I wasn’t lying.” He hesitates, like he’s not sure if he should go on. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked a girl as much as I like you.”