Page 31 of Teach Me K-Pop

I’d tried not to not focus on that for so long, but the white flag has been raised. I’ve surrendered. Given up. Given in. Whatever it is, I have spent far too much time imagining what it might be like to walk into a room where Nikko is waiting for me, and see how he might respond in real time. To hop up out of the chair he’s lounging in and come close to tousle my hair and tell me that he likes it, then grab my collar to pull me in for a kiss. Or maybe he’d smirk as he slips a finger through my belt loops to draw me toward him, our knees knocking before our hips collide and...

“Jase?”

I don’t even want to know what my face looks like right now, called out from that fantasy, so I steer my gaze away from the small image of myself at the bottom of the screen. “Sorry. I was just, uh, just thinking that I’d have to meet new people before I could date anyone.”

There’s a hint of something in his eyes, a little dark and a little sad, before he says, “I meet people all the time. That does not always make it easy.”

“That’s true. It doesn’t necessarily mean there are more options,” I agree. I know that if ten hot, single men came parading through this room, I would not notice. None of them would catch my attention, because Nikko has it all.

“And sometimes…” Nikko pauses, looks away from the computer, and takes a deep breath. When he turns back, his eyes catch and hold mine. “...you already know a person you would like to date.”

I’m not sure if all the oxygen leaves my body or if I’m having some sort of cardiac episode or what happens as his words reach my ears and tumble into the part of my brain that immediately begins freaking out.

I feel like there’s no way to misinterpret what he’s saying as he stares me down through the screen. I think about the last time we spoke—“I will tell you,” now echoing in my head. Now that I know who he is, did that freedom make him brave? Is it possible he’s really telling me what it sounds like he is? I swear the intensity of his gaze might actually set my soul on fire.

There are two things I can do: I can tamp down whatever hope I have and try to move past this, or I can ask him to clarify. There’s just enough of the teacher left in me in this situation that I need him to use his words. I need to hear him say that I’m not imagining this. That I’m not seeing signs that aren’t there.

I don’t know how I’d react to either scenario. If I let this moment go and pass up the opportunity, I will always wonder what could have happened. But if I sit here and let him tell me that the person he’s talking about is me, I know I have to stop pretending there’s anything professional left about this relationship. I don’t know what that would make us. I’m not even sure what I would call what we have now.

My heart is skittering around inside my rib cage like it’s trying to escape. I swallow, but my mouth is dry. This next sentence might change everything. “There’s someone you want to date?”

“If I could, yes.” He nods once, like he’s very sure of what he’s saying, but there’s something about him that still seems nervous. “I have been thinking lately. About what I want. And how to be less scared of asking for it.”

I should be encouraging and tell him that’s good, that I’m proud of him. That we should all do more of that. But I don’t. Instead, I feel my pulse stutter as his tongue darts quickly across his lower lip. I need to know. “What do you want, Nikko?”

“I think the question iswho,” he corrects me.

“Who?” I echo, one hand gripping the edge of the chair I’m sitting on. I’ve waited for a lot of things in my life, but I don’t know that any stretch of time and anticipation has ever been quite so tense for me. I just want him to tell me. I can imagine him saying my name, like I could make it happen through sheer force of will or desire.

Nikko inhales slowly, then exhales as his gaze drifts somewhere over my shoulder. I realize a second later that I’m breathing in sync with him, as if matching his measured respirations will do something to calm me down, too.

When our eyes make contact again, I can see the smile reflected in his before I’m aware of it on his mouth. That same smile that makes me feel a little light-headed every time I see it. He probably knows that. I hope he knows.

“If I could have anyone I wanted, it would be you,” he says.

The relief is immediate. Hearing those words settles all the chaos that has been ricocheting around between my head and my heart.

He’s looking at me expectantly, waiting anxiously for me to respond to his confession.

“Same.” It’s inadequate, but it’s enough for him to visibly relax. I laugh a little as he beams back at me, because now all of my words want to come out in a rush. “I would want that, too. I do want that. Want you.”

“I hoped you would say that,” he tells me, quietly. “I am happy we are friends, but I like you, too. Since the beginning, I think.”

For all the times I’ve wished I could reach through the screen and touch him, I have never wanted to more than I do right now. He’s been bold and honest, and he deserves the same from me. “I don’t know when I realized this wasn’t just friendly for me. Maybe it was right away. I knew I was attracted to you as soon as you showed up in the chat that first day. And I knew I liked you as a person when you told me about rearranging closets when you get anxious. Every time we talk, I find something new that I like about you. Something else that makes me wish I was in Seoul and we were chatting over hotteok and iced Americanos and not…” I trail off as I gesture at the computer. I’ve said a lot there. But it’s all the truth.

“I wish that, too.” He looks wistful for a moment. “Do you know our song ‘maybe’?”

Of course I know ‘maybe.’ It’s track seven onghosts. It’s probably in my top 25 most played songs if I were to go check those rankings in my music app. “Yes, I do. It’s a favorite of mine.”

Nikko flashes a grin—there and gone—before he tells me, “I have been glad there is not choreo for that one. I keep thinking of you when we sing it on stage. I would forget my steps, if we had them.”

I blink back at him because I have no idea how to respond to the single most romantic and overwhelming thing anyone has ever said to me. I want to ask him which part of the song reminds him of me—if there’s a line that I can go get tattooed somewhere on my body. The whole of the lyrics are swoon-worthy in that lovesick crush kind of way. I wonder now, if the reason I loved it so much from that first listen was because it reminded me of myself. Of this situation. Of him.

maybe we have the same dream

maybe you could be my everything

maybe we would have it all, you and I

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