Mi-rae smoothed her hair as she lifted herself up onto her toes to survey the crowd. There was no sign of him amid the sea of orange and blue pouring into the stadium. She checked her phone. No messages. Then she pressed her lips together to confirm that the lipstick she had just applied a moment ago was still fresh.
This is not a date.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Mi-rae had told herself that all day.
But then why do I feel like it is?
Nothing could quell the bubbling feeling inside of her chest. Nervous excitement was now her constant state of being. And after this past week Mi-rae was beyond trying to deny it. Instead of the dull monotony of eighteen hour days shuttling between her office and apartment, she actually had something to look forward to: seeing Han Ji-pyeong.
Mi-rae bartered with herself every day. It was okay to go to coffee with Han Ji-pyeong if Sam came along. It was okay to invite Han Ji-pyeong for lunch if Chris joined them. It was okay to meet Han Ji-pyeong in the conference room for take out if the associates were also there. If it passed the test of an activity that she would normally engage in with a client, then Mi-rae was allowed to be with him.
And yet Mi-rae was painfully aware that she was losing this war of rationalization. Because it was not normal to wake up every morning excited to see a client. Or feel a rush of adrenaline when she caught his decisive walk out of the corner of her eye. She took twice as long as usual to get dressed. An email from him made her heart race. She was filled with anticipation for every meeting. Her eyes sought him out in the hallways, the elevator bank, and the lobby no matter what her brain commanded.
And the more that Mi-rae learned about him, the worse it got. She relished how his mind worked — the way he could turn a problem around in his head and immediately focus on the crux of the issue. She chased the way his eyebrows quirked when challenged. Mi-rae was addicted to how his dimples deepened when he laughed. She had grown fond of the rebellion staged by his hair every night as he restlessly poured over financial statements.
But ever since Monday, Mi-rae was acutely aware that she was now walking this emotional tightrope alone. Han Ji-pyeong had been implacably calm ever since she had drawn a line between them. His nervousness of their first coffee had vanished. The lingering glances were gone. Always a friendly and collaborative colleague, he accepted her invitations but never initiated one. And why should he? Han Ji-pyeong was a wildly successful and impossibly handsome man. He was sensible and pragmatic. Of course he had moved on. As often as Mi-rae wistfully replayed their fleeting moments of connection, his indifference was freeing. She was privately wagering her own stubborn heart. That was the only risk that Kim Mi-rae was willing to take.
And so she had made a new deal with herself. She may not be able to act on how she was feeling, but she would allow herself to enjoy the time that she had. Soon Han Ji-pyeong would be half a world away until the next transaction. It was less than what she wanted. But it was still more than she had before he walked into that bar nearly a week ago. Every time he smiled, Mi-rae told herself that it could be enough.
Now outside of Citi Field, Mi-rae was doing what her senior partner had asked: she and Sam were entertaining the new client whom the firm was hellbent on retaining. It was well within the boundaries of work. But work had nothing to do with why she was nearly vibrating with anticipation. The prospect of spending hours with Han Ji-pyeong was both thrilling and terrifying.
Thank god for Sam.
Mi-rae would cling to their unwitting chaperone like a life raft. She sent Sam a message asking why he was not yet at their agreed meeting place. When she looked up, Mi-rae caught a flash of Han Ji-pyeong's striking dark hair in the crowd. He did not yet see her. And so her eyes greedily roved up and down his tall frame.
