Page 11 of Teach Me K-Pop

Nikko stares at me through the screen, regarding my silence. “How are you today? Are you okay?”

Finally shaking it off, I give him what I hope is a reassuring grin. “Yes. Yeah. Sorry. I just... it’s been a crazy day. I was running a little behind and…” I stop myself. The details don’t matter right now. I don’t want to waste time on them when I could be listening to him. “I’m good. And you?”

He gives me a glance that suggests he doesn’t entirely believe me, but answers me anyway. “I have had a nice day. Busy. But I do not mind that.”

I want to ask what he’s been doing, but I figure it’s better to wait and see if he volunteers the information. “Busy can be good. It makes the time go faster. I definitely prefer being busy to being bored.”

Nikko nods, but then says, “I do not... remember being bored. I am not that much.”

“Same,” I agree. “I honestly couldn’t tell you the last time I was bored, either. But I do know that a slow day at work is kind of a terrible one.” Which is the truth. The rare days when the library is quiet take so long to pass and I hate it. I much prefer the activity and noise that goes along with a space full of teenagers.

“Your work is slow? Sometimes?” he asks, his expression curious.

I have dropped a lot of pieces of trivial information in our talks, just to keep the conversation going or try to find some common ground. But like Nikko, I’ve never gone into much detail about anything. I have always believed people will ask what they want to know, and have often found that a lot of them just aren’t really that interested. Nikko hasn’t questioned me on many things, but I’ll answer whatever he asks. Tell him anything he wants to hear about.

“Sometimes,” I say. “The library is usually pretty full of students or classes. But there are days every now and then when it’s just me and my scary assistant, and those are very, very long days. I hide in my office a lot and try to stay out of her way.” I laugh as I tell him this, like it’s a joke, but it’s also not. Brenda and I have worked together for three years now, and she still unnerves me as much as she did the first day she walked into the media center like she owned the place. My name may be on the sign by the door, but she staked her claim immediately and made sure everyone knew it.

Nikko giggles. I’ve not heard this version of his laugh yet, and I love it. “Scary assistant?”

“Yes. She’s honestly kind of terrifying.” I’m about to tell him more when Noel decides she’s unhappy with how her afternoon is progressing and starts to bark in my general direction. I turn to glare at her, snapping my fingers to point her toward her bed. “Shhh!”

When I look back at the screen, Nikko’s face is practically smooshed up against it and once again, I am not prepared for this virtual proximity.

“Is that adog?” he exclaims. “Do you have a dog and did not tell me?”

It shocks me to realize that Noel has never made her presence known before now, and that I somehow haven’t mentioned her. Although, to be fair, many of our sessions have been well outside of her standard hours of operation and she was not technically awake enough todogproperly.

“I do indeed have a dog.” I lean over to pick Noel up—she’s already doing half the work, stretching up toward me and demanding my attention—and arrange her in my arms so she’s visible to the camera.

The moment her furry little face appears, Nikko legitimately squeals with excitement, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard anything cuter. Except perhaps Noel when she yawns.

Her attention is drawn to the giddy sound he’s making, and she gives him a little yip, squirming toward my laptop, tongue out like she’s going to give him a long-distance lick. I don’t want to admit it, but my initial thought was, ‘me first.’

Nikko is cooing at her in Korean, telling her how pretty she is, and I realize I’m losing the war I was half-heartedly attempting to fight in convincing myself I wasn’t into him. If I’m being completely honest, I’d probably lost already and was just hoping I might come to my senses about all the reasons that this situation is impossible and ill-advised. I’m technically his tutor. He’s halfway across the world. He’s young. I barely know him.

But he’s got his hand out toward on-screen Noel, like if he reaches far enough he’ll be able to pet her, and he just looks delighted—eyes bright, smile so warm and genuine it kind of makes my heart ache. And Noel is full-on slurping at my laptop, her tongue leaving a trail across the glass as she tries to get to him. They’re clearly crazy about each other.

How am I supposed to resist that?

???

I grab a beer from the fridge and pop the top as I walk over to the table. It just feels right to have a drink every now and then when I talk to Kija—even if it’s not our preferred brand. Beer contributed significantly to our early friendship, and there’s just something nostalgic about sipping on one when we get to have a chat. Every once in a while we’ll do a video call, just because it’s nice to actually look at the person you’re talking to.

At least, I think so. Kija teases me sometimes that he sees me more than he sees his mother, thanks to my inclination toward using virtual video options. I haven’t been in the same room with Kija in almost five years. If it hadn’t been for him making a trip to the U.S.—and me managing to meet up with him in Miami for a weekend—it would have been even longer since we’d spent time together in South Korea.

So yeah, sometimes I like to take advantage of the options we have for communications these days and be able to look my ridiculously handsome best friend in the face as he tells me about the latest k-drama starlet that hit on him. Which happens more often than might seem statistically probable, but I guess it makes sense with the circles he moves in and all the connections he has in the entertainment industry.

I have no problem slouching down in my chair in my old-ass t-shirt as our call connects. I feel much more relaxed chatting with him than I do, say, Nikko. Who makes me want to sit up straight and make sure my hair isn’t crazy.

I’m taking a long drink from my beer when Kija appears and immediately chuckles, raising his own bottle in a toast before he knocks some of it back. I don’t mention that it’s kind of early in the day for him to imbibe, knowing he’d just start teasing me about all the times we had soju and cold noodles for breakfast, standing at the counter of his tiny apartment in Sinchon.

“Starting your weekend right, I see,” he teases. “Life rough in the library these days?”

Shrugging, I say, “Nah. It’s not so bad. Brenda even brought in muffins that she baked yesterday and left one on my desk. I mean, she scowled at me when I tried to tell her thank you, but it seemed like a breakthrough somehow?”

Kija laughs, his shoulders shaking. I’ve always felt like his laugh didn’t quite match the rest of him, the way he lets loose so easily seeming out of place with his very serious business demeanor most of the time. “What kind of muffins were they?”

“Lemon poppy seed.”

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