Seoulmates (Seoul 2)

Yujun puts his hand on my waist and guides me to the elevator. “As long as I am the best boy in the world according to Hara, everyone else is free to say whatever they like about Sangki.”

In the elevator, I notice that there are dark smudges under his eyes. Yujun has been really busy.

“You’re working too hard.” I run a finger lightly over his cheekbone.

He chases my hand with his mouth, and when he catches it, he presses a kiss against my wrist. “Are you saying I look terrible?”

“Terribly exhausted.”

His lips turn down. The dimples are in hiding. “Should we go home or to my apartment and have ramyeon?”

“If you want to.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He pulls away from me. “Not only have I been a terrible boyfriend, but also a very bad friend. I have not seen Sangki since the pool party, so let’s have this dinner and then we can go to my apartment.”

I shiver inwardly with delight.

When we arrive at the restaurant, Sangki is already at the table with Bomi.

“I have to sit next to Hara,” Sangki insists. “My sasaengs think I’m dating her.”

“Isn’t that bad for your reputation?” Bomi asks. Like Yujun’s, her face looks pale and drawn, but I don’t know if Bomi is tired from work or she’s missing Jules.

“No. She’s pretty and rich and somewhat notorious, so it simultaneously makes them proud and also superior over her. Sorry, Hara.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” I do not care what crazy stalkers think of me. “Let’s discuss why everyone looks so tired. What’s going on up on the fourteenth floor?”

“What about me?” Sangki taps his chest. “Shouldn’t I be the topic of conversation?”

“We just talked about your sasaengs.”

“For all of two seconds.”

“We’ll get to you, but Bomi first.”

“Me?” She physically recoils. “I don’t want to be the topic of conversation.”

“It’s LA.” Yujun collapses into the chair across from me. “We’re going to expand our business to the Americas as the Hallyu is spreading. More Korean companies are venturing into activities in the West, which means they need bilingual service providers to handle things like equipment rentals, shipping merchandise and supplies from Korea to the States, finding local vendors, providing temporary or long-term housing, addressing safety issues. It’s nonstop. Not to mention completely different regulatory rules that we have to comply with.”

Bomi rubs her temples. “This is why I didn’t want to be the topic of conversation. I’m getting a headache listening to you, Sunbae-nim.”

“Same.” Maybe Wansu isn’t intentionally trying to keep Yujun and me apart.

Yujun cocks an eyebrow in my direction. “Haven’t you seen any of this? International Marketing should be working on this project. It’s an important one. Your English skills and editing background are invaluable.”

“No. I haven’t seen anything. Maybe we haven’t received the materials yet?”

“That’s odd. You should have been working on it weeks ago.” He turns to Bomi. “Is your team still working on the protocol guidelines?”

She shakes her head. “No. That’s been out of our department since last month.”

An uneasy sensation bubbles in my stomach because it feels like I’ve outed a secret that shouldn’t have been told. The waiter comes with the menus and I nearly fall over in my haste to change the subject.

Yujun is not done. “You order for us, Sangki-ya.” He turns to me. “What are you working on?”

“Are you my supervisor?” I pore over the menu, pretending deep interest, but a long-fingered hand slides the linen paper away.

“Hara.”

“You should tell him,” Sangki says. “He’s, how do you say it, the dog with the collar? No. Bone. The dog with the bone.”

“You know what this is about?” Yujun looks wounded. He eyes Bomi, who is avoiding his gaze. “You, too?”

I scrunch my nose. “I will tell you, but you have to promise you will not do anything.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

“Gosh, the weather has been really cool lately. Is it always like this in September?” I say, pretending to ignore him.

“Very cool. Unseasonably so.” Sangki willingly plays along.

“I can’t believe you’re picking her side over mine,” Yujun complains.

“You’ve never sent me texts saying I sing like an angel.” Sangki delivers our order and then gathers the menus and hands them to the waiter.

Yujun clears his throat. He’s reaching the end of his patience.

I give in and spill. “I’m having a hard time at work, but it’s my fault because I don’t speak Korean, and if you do anything to anyone in my department, you will make it worse and I will feel terrible, so please promise me you will only listen and take no action.” I reach for his hand. “It’s a compromise. I’ll talk; you’ll listen. Only listen.”

Yujun’s jaw works overtime as he struggles between wanting to know what’s going on and conceding to my conditions, which he does not like.

“Aigoo, he agrees. He agrees,” Sangki bursts out. “Don’t you, Yujun? Don’t torture her like this.”