Page 10 of Free Fall #1

Sejin

“J eanie, that’s perfect,” I say as I watch over my herd of preschool dancers, twirling in the sparkling sunlight. I don’t really have any qualifications for this job, but I do have a lot of self-confidence and zero fear of being told no.

Which explains how I marched into Tater Tots Preschool six months ago armed with my recently-issued ECE Associate Teacher license and said, “Do you have anyone teaching the kids Movement? Because if not, I’m your man.”

Heather Tate, the owner-director of the preschool, had looked me up and down and said, “You’re Martin Sutley’s adopted brother, right?”

“Cousin. But, yes, I’m Sejin Sutley.”

“Right.” She’d given me another long once-over, and then asked, “What did you have in mind?”

I had my phone on me, and I’d cued up some of my favorite songs with easy or cute choreo. I showed her the dances. Most of them were from girl groups, so they were maybe a little feminine, but she didn’t even blink at that.

“What language are they singing in?” she asked instead.

“Korean,” I answered. “It’s KPop.”

“Whatever it is, the dances are cute. The kids will have fun, and if you can teach them a little Korean in the mix… You’re Korean I take it?”

“Kinda? Like in one way yeah, but in most ways no?” I could see I was losing her. “But yeah, sure.”

“Well, if you teach them some Korean along with the dances, I think I can sell it to the parents as a real value-added thing. So how about one dollar per kid per class?”

I’d swallowed, gathered my self-esteem, and asked for what I thought I was worth. Admittedly, it wasn’t that much. “Five?”

“Three,” she’d said, and turned her attention back to the papers on her desk, something very important and ‘director-y’ I was sure.

“Three it is.”

So here I am, six months later, with a small squad of dancers singing along to “Fancy” by Korea’s top girl group, Twice, while nearly nailing the choreo with their chubby little limbs.

Well, kinda. Okay, not at all, but it’s so cute I can’t stand it, and I tell them they’re nailing it even when they aren’t.

And Jeanie Erickson is one of the cutest. Her rosy cheeks, shiny eyes, and thick, red curls just kill me.

Holland, Griffin, and Tanner all knock my socks off with their enthusiasm too.

And Natalie just rocks period with her powerful singing voice.

She’s memorized most of the words, even the Korean ones, and she’s a real dynamo with her stage presence.

Jude, though, bless his heart, is just gonna have to accept that he has no rhythm in his soul. But I won’t be the one to tell him. No sirree. No way.

“Mr. Sejin,” Lila calls, panting as the song ends and I’m preparing to launch them into BTS’s “Dynamite,” which also has some very fun disco-themed choreo, plus Michael Jackson-inspired moves the kids love. “Gotta go pee!”

“Ahh!” I cry, pointing toward the door back inside. “Go find Miss Heather if you need help!”

She darts in, and I feel a little guilty starting up “Dynamite” without her since I know she loves it, but the day will end soon.

Today my Movement class is last on their schedule and designed to wear them out just in time for their parents to take them home, feed them, and then let them wind down for the rest of the afternoon.

“Ready?” I ask.

All ten shout back, “Yes!”

We’ve almost finished shining through the city with all our funk and soul when the first car pulls up.

It’s Jeanie’s dad…er, mom, but dad? Jeanie still calls Rye by the term “Mommy,” and it’s a little confusing to me, even if it isn’t to them, because I feel weird calling Rye by that title, but I can’t exactly say, “Jeanie, your dad’s here” because that’s the other male parent in her family.

That’s life, I guess. Hardly ever as tidy as we hope.

We finish out the dance, and I clear my throat. “Uh, Jeanie…” I just nod at the car.

She turns to look, grins, and shouts “Mommy!” as the driver’s side door swings open. Then she shouts again as the passenger door pops open too. “Dan!”

She starts to run toward them, but I grab her up before she can get into the driveway area where other cars are already pulling in.

“Now, now,” I gently scold. “You know you’re supposed to wait.”

My throat closes around the last words as my eyes lock with those of Rye’s passenger. My heart kicks hard. It’s not just any Dan coming to claim Jeanie with Rye today. No, it’s my Dan.

My Dan? Ha! As if.

I mean, the Dan I slept with last night. The guy who screwed me so hard I can still feel it in my hamstrings and calves, and his passion still shows in the bruises that’ve come up on my hips, which I discovered in the bathroom earlier in the day.

“Hey,” I say, dropping Jeanie so she can run to her parent.

Dan nods his head sharply.

I suddenly feel awkward in my sleeveless shirt, cut-off shorts, and sandals, and I don’t know why.

I wish I looked more put together. Sexier or something.

It’s not as if Dan looks like anything special in his nylon sports pants and chalk-dusted t-shirt, though, so I don’t know who I want to impress.

Rye is busy kissing Jeanie’s chubby cheeks, but then he glances up and says, “Sejin, I understand you know Dan?”

I cough, surprised Dan told Rye about hooking up with me, but I suppose I hadn’t asked him to keep anything a secret, so it’s fair game.

Dan’s ears go a livid pink, and his cheeks flush with heat. He stares at me like he’s daring me to call him out on his embarrassment.

Lucky for him, I won’t do it. Mainly because there are children around, but also because his gaze is so piercing it’s making me feel lightheaded. He’s a little dorky-looking in some ways, I’ve noted, but he’s also just…wow, smoking hot.

“We’ve met,” is all I offer up, and Dan’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down once.

“Mr. Sejin?” Jeanie says, squirming out of Rye’s arms and turning to me. “Can we show Mommy and Dan my favorite dance?”

I glance toward the other cars pulling up and figure any parent who doesn’t want to see their kid dance to KPop songs is a sad human being. “Sure. Remind me which is your favorite.”

She pops into the opening moves, crying out the first line of the song, which is in English.

“Right,” I say, pulling up the song “Idol” by BTS. It’s one of my favorites to teach the kids because they scream the lyrics of the chorus at the top of their voices every time. Listening to three-to five-year-olds yell about how no one can stop them from loving themselves is pure joy .

Everyone gets back into position and as soon as the music exits the speakers, the kids start moving, wriggling, twisting out their approximation of the complicated choreo.

Obviously, I’ve toned it down for them quite a lot because it’s not like I can actually do it myself.

But I do like to make them exercise their bodies so I keep some of the more complex moves in too.

They work hard for it and basically fail, but they all look adorable trying.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Dan watching the kids.

The pink in his skin dies down, and I look for any sign that he doesn’t like children.

To me, fair or not, I have a rule—good to kids and good to animals?

Good to me. And that’s always been the case in my experience.

Anyone who’s shitty to kids or animals always ends up being shitty to me too.

Like my toxic ex who was an asshole to his best friend’s dog.

On her deathbed, my mom told me to find someone who loved me as much as she did and for me to never put up with my ex’s brand of bullshit again. I’d made the promise, and I intend to keep it.

Not that I’m gonna fall in love with Dan or him with me.

It’s just I don’t have time for bad people in my life, period.

I don’t really see any negative reaction in him, but I don’t see a truly positive one either. Not until the chorus hits anyway, and then his lips pull into a smile, he chuckles softly, and his eyes grow fond.

All right. All right .

I can hook up with him again then without much worry now. I mean, I should have known he was okay with kids by the way Jeanie greeted him so enthusiastically, but you never know.

Maybe I should test him with a dog too, though? Just to be sure.

I cough lightly into my hand. What is wrong with me? I’m getting way, way, way ahead of myself. But why would Dan tell Rye about me unless he was thinking of the future too? I mean, there has to be something there, right?

Yeah, that I’m a good fuck.

That’s about it. What else can he say about me? We don’t know each other from Adam. I’m really getting loopy out here in the “wilderness” without a man to suck my dick regularly. One stellar orgasm—okay, four—and I’m practically buying wedding bands in my imagination.

Get a grip, Sejin! He lives in a van, for fuck’s sake. There is no long-term potential here.

The kids finish out their song, and by the time they do, they’re sweaty, pink-cheeked, and grinning.

We’re surrounded by applauding parents on all sides.

Lila has returned, holding Heather’s hand, and she stares sullenly at the other kids instead of clapping for them.

I’m not surprised. Lila also loves this song and she missed it.

Bodily functions! Always getting in the way of fun.