Secrets of Attraction

Nine: SUZY

Broody Barista had changed into Flirty Barista overnight. It was just the distraction I'd craved. After being in the light and chatter of our yearbook meeting that afternoon, the idea of being home brought me down. It's not like I wanted to sit and bond with the SOOP regulars. I just didn't want to be alone with my thoughts, because me thoughts had become barbed wire on my brain. It physically hurt to think.

I'm your father, Suzy.

What was I supposed to do with that?

Hanging with people who were just going about their lives, drinking coffee, faces in a book or computer, felt normal. And the Cinnamon Hot Chocolate was almost enough to make me forget everything, it was that good. Joohyuk would have been revered as a god. A cute god, who looked particularly scorching  in his jeans and black tee that hugs his torso that afternoon.

What was it about broody developers?

I leaned back in the chair, my blank sketchpad begging me to create something, to get lost in the details of a drawing. A logo for a team? Hmmm . . . I'd been thinking about something different for my portfolio, just one more piece that would round it out. This was perfect. Something pop culture-ish and fun. I closed my eyes, thought of the band name, trying to see it in some unique, fresh -

I'm your father, Suzy.

There was no getting away from it. The moment I let myself get distracted or lost in something else, the phrase came floating across my mind's eye, like a storm ticker on the Weather Channel. Even though it still hadn't quite sunk in. Would it ever? I'd stayed in my room most of Saturday - ignoring eomma and Juhoon. He had left for a job on Monday and wasn't supposed to return from Mark's Vineyard until later in the week. Eomma told me he was using the time to think. I envied him that. I hadn't sat down with eomma yet either. One of the benefits of her new yoga philosophy was giving me my space. I wasn't sure why I wasn't talking to her - I think I needed to protest somehow until I knew how I really felt about the situation, but that could take forever.

Juhoon was still Juhoon - that exciting guy who swooped in a few times a year with travel stories, and jokes and smiles and classical songs. I should have been happy. This was a good thing. I knew I felt strongly about him, enjoyed the times when he was around. But did I love him like a person loves their father? Could he ever think of me as his daughter?

I hadn't told anyone yet. The words would not make it to my lips. I'd tried to call Stephanie at different times over the weekend, but neither of them had been around. Stephanie had been at her sister's topical baby shower. And Yoona had been out, probably clandestinely kissing her running partner behind one of the oaks in the park. Monday on the bus, sandwiched among the leering office workers, primweekday church ladies, and students of all ages hardly seemed the appropriate place to spill my news. Everyone had been all abuzz about the dance anyway.

It had been the same way in the yearbook earlier that afternoon, too. I'd almost blurted it out when Yoona finally pitched an idea about making the Father's Club layout "On the Edge." "You think that's edgy? Wait till you hear this!" I'd imagined saying, but of course, I swallowed it. Bogum had been annoyed at me because Stephanie and Yoona handed in their CJ E&M copy, I still hadn't looked at the pictures from the dance. I rattled off some lame excuse and promised to look at them before Friday. The layout wasn't due until the end of the month. I knew I took some decent shots, I just hadn't had the time to really look at them yet.

A knock on the window startled me.

"Minho?"

He stood there and pointed to his phone, then shrugged. Eomma and Juhoon hadn't been the only people I'd avoided over the weekend. Minho's "I love you" was also on a ticker through my brain. And I still had no idea what to say to him. Maybe I could take it to the next step with him, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to be with just him and only him; he was easier to handle in the hot-guy-I-have-fun-with role. I gestured to the door, reaching into my bag for my phone. I'd kept it off in protest too. It had been nice being unreachable. My own version of time to think. When I turned it on, there were at least twenty texts and three missed calls. Ignoring them made me feel like I had some control over something.