I don’t think Dani cares for me much. Or at least she doesn’t for about eighty-five percent of the time. Ever since we were assigned to the same team, we have been working together on our project nearly every day. We meet up for an hour or two after class at the campus library. On days we don’t have class, we meet up when she isn’t working. She may not be the best at coding, but she’s giving it her all and I have to respect that. She knew some basics and caught on quickly to what I was teaching her as well.

We exchanged phone numbers and text regularly about the project in a group chat with Jeff and Layla. We also text each other separately about our specific role in the project. A few times we’ve texted about other stuff too. Eventually, we were texting each other just because we were bored. I did learn that she has three overprotective brothers that saw my name on her phone once and drilled her for an hour about who I was. She’s also mentioned that she’s also half-Filipino on her mom’s side. Her favorite Filipino dish is pancit palabok and she rolls her own lumpia to stock up her freezer.

I told her that I had an older brother and younger sister in Korea but left out the part where I’m not allowed to see or speak to them. Being exiled to a foreign country isn’t exactly my favorite conversation starter. I also mentioned to her that no matter how many places I went to, no one made sisig as amazing as my mom. When the topic of fried chicken came up, I told her that I learned to make the best fried chicken from my maternal grandmother. She laughed and told me I should make it for her sometime so she could be the judge. Right after the words left her mouth, she changed the subject and started getting mad at me again.

She’s probably the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, but I don’t care. Whether or not she felt something for me, I liked being around her. Seeing that smile always brightened up my day. I’m trying my best to hide the fact that I have a huge crush on her, but sometimes it’s blaringly obvious. She pretends not to hear, but I know she’s just being polite. A silent rejection if you will. I’m sure she’s tired of my (unintentional) flirtatious manner.

Today the whole group was meeting up after class to check in on where we were with everything. Layla’s contribution relied heavily on the drawings I had for the puppy, and I was relying heavily on Jeff’s ability to create a functioning app for the receiver. These meetings helped us determine what and where adjustments were needed. I never diminished Dani’s role in all this. Like I said, she worked as hard as she could to make sure she was doing her part despite still needing to rely on me. When we got to the restaurant, we talked about the project as planned, but as these things happen, we veered off track and it became another social gathering.

“So wait, you weren’t born here?” Jeff asked as he gripped his fourth beer.

“I was not,” I responded with a shake of my head. “I was born in Korea, but I do have dual citizenship thanks to my mom - who was born here. I came here for school about…ten years ago?”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Layla laughed. “You don’t have an accent at all.”

“I spoke English a lot as a kid. I would come to visit my family out here when I was younger and they didn’t speak Korean or Tagalog. Sometimes we would vacation in the Philippines. We have a resort out there and most of the staff speaks English.”

“You have a resort? Like you own a time share?”

I shook my head. “My family owns the actual resort.”

“Holy shit your family must be loaded,” Jeff teased. He was tipsy and quickly on his way to being drunk. “I heard that names in Korea are different. Like your surname is first and then your given name.”

“That’s correct.”

“Did your parents just decide to name you like they would here?” Layla asked.

“Actually, Johnathan is my Western name,” I explained. They all stared at me with the most confused look on their faces. “On my Korean documents, it has my Korean name. But my US documents – including my ID – all have my Western or American name.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out both my US and Korean IDs. “It was easier for people to say and I don’t get ridiculed for having a ‘different’ name.”

“Do people mispronounce it or something?” Layla asked.

“That’s part of it. There were also some people that didn’t like that I’m different. I’m a foreigner, plain and simple.”

“Man, that sucks,” Jeff let out a heavy breath. “Well, we don’t care where you come from.”

“Yea, you’re a really nice guy, Johnny,” Layla agreed as she patted my hand from across the table.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Jeff frowning at the very innocent gesture. He’d been spending a lot of time with Layla lately and he was probably jealous she was giving attention to another man. I won’t lie. It wouldn’t be the first time I caused a misunderstanding between a couple – most of the time it was unintentional, but there were a few times people would ask me to “flirt” with them to make their partner or crush jealous. I can tell you now, this was NOT one of those times.

“I’m going to get more drinks,” Jeff said abruptly as he leapt out of his seat.

“But you still have a full beer in front of you,” I pointed out.

He quickly polished off the beer bottle and slammed it on the table harder than he needed to before heading to the bar. I slowly pulled my hands back from the table and put them on my lap. I really hope this doesn’t get awkward. Jeff is the first friend I’ve made outside of my current circle. I’d hate for it to end over something so stupid.

“I think he’s mad at me,” I sighed.

“Ugh. I’ll be right back,” Layla groaned, pushing herself from the table and going after Jeff.

I don’t think this night can get any more awkward.

“You shouldn’t have to hide who you are,” Dani said suddenly.

I glanced up at her. She’s been silent the whole time as the other two grilled me. Yet, the look on Dani’s face right now felt more genuine than any question they had asked me.

“You’re right,” I grinned. “I shouldn’t, but I had to survive. Sounding too Korean in speech and name only led me to being ridiculed and told to go back to where I came from. Especially after COVID. Some people can’t tell the difference between a Chinese man and a Korean man. To some people, we’re all the same.”

“Why would you want to be in a place that hates you so much?”

I leaned back in my seat and let out a sigh. “Because it’s better than home. These people that mock me and say hurtful things…there’s a good chance I’ll never see half of them again. I worked hard on sounding more American, adapting to the cultural standards when I’m out, but maintaining my traditions at home. I could do things to fit in here. Back home…” I took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Have you ever felt like no matter what you did or how hard you worked…it was never good enough? Like…you just didn’t belong.”

“Yes,” she replied softly as if I had resonated with something with her.

“That’s what it felt like being back home. Never good enough. Always ‘too much’ of one thing and never enough of something else. All the while, you were to do as you were told. It was suffocating. I’m judged here, but it’s better than being judged back home.”

“When you say home, you mean in Korea?”

I scratched my chin, unsure if I should really delve into this subject. “That too,” I responded simply. “It’s funny. I didn’t fit in all the time in Korea as a child. I had a kid in my class tell me I was ‘too Filipino’ once. I thought it was because I spoke Tagalog and Kapampangan and had a bit of an accent, so I only spoke Korean. I found out years later they meant my looks. When I came to America, I couldn’t be Filipino or Korean. I couldn’t speak any of my native languages without someone telling me to speak in English because this is America. A country built on the backs of immigrants openly hating an immigrant. The irony, right?”

“But you still gave in.”

“I did,” I admitted sadly. “For what little freedom I thought I had, I sacrificed my culture, my pride, my name…my identity. I’m still me, but no one will ever really know the real me while I have to hide away as Johnny Park. It’s incredibly difficult to be two different people to adapt to where you are and who you’re with, yet still not fit in anywhere.”

She stared at me with her hazel eyes. I couldn’t tell if she pitied me or thought I was a coward burying away who I am for the sake of pleasing others. If I were her, I’d probably think little of the man sitting before her. Big bad Park Seojun, once called the Future of Korea, folded in an instant to fit in. But that was what I always had done. I seem strong, but I’m a weak man to my core.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

I knew she wasn’t asking about what people called me. She wanted to know who I really was. “Seojun. My name is Park Seojun.”

“Say-j…”

I shook my head. “No, no. It’s seh-joon. Seojun. And Park isn’t pronounced like a park you play in. The ‘R’ is silent, so it sounds like ‘Pak”. Park Seojun.”

“Park Seojun.” The corner of her mouth twitched upwards for a split second. “I like it. Seojun.”

There was something about hearing her say my name. Not Johnny, but my real name. I tried my best not to smile like an idiot, but I kept hearing that soft, sweet, ever so feminine voice saying my name. I covered my mouth to hide the fact that I was grinning like an idiot and turned away.

“Did I say it wrong? Seojun. Is that not right?”

“No,” I shook my head, “you’re saying it right.”

I could see her staring at me in the corner of my eye. Her arms were crossed over her chest like she usually does when she’s upset or not getting her way. Her plump, pink-tinted lips pressed pushed out in a pout and her auburn brows furrowed in a frown. How can she look this adorable? I could feel the heat rising in my face. Blood seemed to be rushing in other places as well, but we won’t talk about that right now.

“I am saying it wrong. You’re laughing!” she exclaimed.

“You’re really not!”

“Then why are you covering your face?” She reached across the table and started pulling at my arm as she tried to pull my hand back.

“I’m not laughing!” I insisted.

“Then why won’t you let me see your face?” There was a playful tone in her voice, almost as if she was giggling as she spoke. She let out these cute little grunts as she futilely tried to uncover my face. She finally gave up and dropped her hands. “I was trying to be nice to you and you’re just making fun of me.”

I wonder if she knows she drives men crazy with the way she pouts. I pulled my hand back from my face and took one of her petite hands in my larger, rougher hands. “You said it perfectly,” I said gently. “Thank you. It’s been a very long time since I’ve heard someone say my name so…tenderly. I appreciate it. You said it beautifully.”

Not only were her hands small, but they were soft. Like the pedals of a rose. Soft and fragile. If I held too tightly, I could break them. It felt wrong to hold something so delicate in my rough, calloused hands. Her gaze was as soft as her hands. Eyes wide open, staring up at me in surprise and curiosity. She knows I like her. There’s no way she didn’t know how I felt. So why wasn’t she pulling away. Why was she smiling at me like I was the only man in the room? Would she still smile if she knew all that these hands have done? I was a talented and accomplished boxer as a teenager, but there was a reason I had been pushed into that. Would she look at me differently? Would she still see me as she does now?

“Seojun,” she repeated softly. “I can call you Seojun if you’d like.”

I smiled and nodded, “That would be nice. You can, of course, still call me Johnny. I’ve always been that man as well. But Seojun could be between us. If you’d like, of course.”

“Seo…”

“We’re back!” Layla announced as she and a moping Jeff returned to the table.

I immediately dropped Dani’s hand and we both retreated into our seats. It was as if we were two teenagers that were just caught by their parents. Jeff seemed to not catch on, but the grin on Layla’s face she knew something had happened. I peeked in Dani’s direction and noticed she was blushing. For some reason, that made me happy. Was she enjoying holding my hand too?

“What were you two up to?” Layla asked in a sing-song voice.

“Nothing,” Dani replied without looking up.

“Hm. Are you sure about that?”

“I bought you a beer, Johnny,” Jeff said as he slid a beer bottle in front of me.

“Um, thanks,” I responded as I took the beer. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Yea I did. Layla said I had to.” He was slowly and awkwardly sliding back into his seat as he put his head on the table. “I thought you were trying to take my girlfriend from me.”

The table shook as Layla kicked him under the table. Well, that cat was out of the bag. I mean, it wasn’t as big a secret as they thought but this just made it official.

“She doesn’t even want people to know we’re dating,” Jeff continued. Maybe he drank that last beer too quickly, but he was definitely drunk. 

“Yea, that, uh, that sucks,” I said, unsure of what else to say. “Hey, why don’t we take a walk and sober up. We still have some work to do.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny, but I don’t think that’s happening,” Layla sighed. “He had two double shots of tequila at the bar before he got more beer. He’s pretty much done for the day. I texted his brother so he should be on his way to get him.”

“I hate him,” Jeff mumbled. “He’s a psychopathic predator.”

“Hey, easy there. You don’t want people getting the wrong idea,” I warned. He wasn’t being all too quiet and people were starting to look in our direction. I put my arm around him and tried to help him sit up.

Jeff leaned toward me and whispered, “He has his eye on her. Don’t let him close.”