Page 11 of Free Fall #1

I’m inundated with moms and a few dads wanting to tell me stories about their kids dancing to the songs at home, or singing them in restaurants, or what have you.

Taking out my ponytail, I shake my hair.

The weight off my head feels amazing and the tickle of hair on my shoulders feels cool and soothing on my hot skin.

I can feel Dan’s eyes on me, and when I glance over, he’s licking his lips.

I laugh at something little Marshall Miller is telling his mom although I’m not even sure what it is.

I’m so busy putting on a show for Dan’s benefit of being the best preschool Movement teacher ever that it goes right over my head.

But my reaction must be appropriate because everyone else laughs too.

I feel a rush of effervescent giddiness as I interact with the kids and their parents, and I hope that Dan finds me dazzling.

I don’t know why I suddenly feel like every move I make is exaggerated and enlivened by his attention, but I do.

I continue on like this for four, five, maybe even eight minutes, until I finally dare to glance back to where he’s been standing in order to gauge his reaction to me.

Only to find he’s gone.

Yup, Jeanie, Rye, and Dan have all left the party, and I’m here being adorable for parents who already think I’m cute.

The let-down is accompanied by a rush of heat to my cheeks. I’m a fool. A silly, ridiculous, recently-fucked fool. At least I’m the only one who knows it, though. I can be an idiot inside my own head all I want. I just don’t want to be an idiot outside my head. Much.

I suppose calling myself a Movement teacher and then helping preschoolers learn KPop choreo is pretty silly-looking to most outsiders, but it makes me happy and happiness is what matters most. Or so my mother told me near the end.

Why do I keep thinking of her today?

I try to keep my smile as light, twinkling, and charming as possible before I beg off from any more chatting with the moms and the sole dad who have stuck around. I have my next job to get to, and Pete will dock my pay if I’m late. Or at least threaten to…

Pete and Celli are working together behind the counter when I arrive at the coffee shop.

I hustle in and check the schedule. Gage is off today so Celli is probably bummed.

But, hey, Ashley will be coming in when Pete takes off around dinner time, and she always makes me laugh with her snarky observations of our patrons and I can’t complain about that.

I head into the back room to quickly change into my work uniform—a turquoise blue t-shirt with Papa Bear in handwritten font on the front, alongside a drawing of a roaring bear over my right pec—and I make sure my hair is tied back tight.

Then I hustle out to the front to ask Pete where I should start.

“Bus the tables,” he says, nodding toward the café’s lightly occupied sitting area. “It’s been a busy day, and we’ve had no time.”

“Aye, aye,” I say, saluting him, and he rolls his eyes at me.

There are five booths along one side of the half-wall hiding the occupants from my sight.

Next to them are ten scattered tables with a magnificent view of the mountains out the wide window behind them.

Outside stand five wooden picnic tables and some round, metal ones too, with built-in metal chairs.

But those often get so hot in the midday sun that we have to put out signs warning the customers to grab a pillow from the stack in a container by the door before sitting down at them.

I happily bus the cluttered tables. Ashley hates touching the used plates, glasses, and cutlery, but I don’t mind too much, and it gives my brain time to wander without having to deal with customer demands.

It also feels good to have “made something right” whenever I wipe down a table and leave it ready for our next customer.

As I finish in the main room, I turn the corner of the half-wall to work on the booths, and I stop in my tracks. My mouth goes dry. My heart kicks again.

Given the expression on Dan’s face, he isn’t expecting to see me so soon either. Rye, for his part, just smirks and goes back to helping Jeanie. She’s tucked into the booth with her raggedy sheep stuffy, a coloring book, and a boba drink.

I crack a smile. “Are you following me?” I tease.

“No.” Dan frowns, eyes wide, seeming a little affronted.

“I was kidding.”

“Oh.” Dan relaxes and then mumbles something I can’t hear before sucking hard at his boba and chewing on the black tapioca beads.

I stand frozen for a second, confused, until Jeanie looks up, smiles happily, and breaks the silence.

“Dan is friends with Mommy,” she says by way of explanation. To whom, I’m not sure. Herself? Me? All of us? Probably all of us. “Mr. Sejin is friends with me . We can all be friends together.”

“Of course,” I reply, stepping closer.

Why am I drawn in when this feels so awkward and uncomfortable? Why don’t I just skedaddle? It was one fuck. Three. Four. Whatever. A true count depends on the definition of “fuck,” and I really don’t need to be standing here figuring that out because it doesn’t really matter.

Oh, my God, Sejin, please get it together.

I find myself saying, “We’re all friends.”

Dan’s brows jump oddly, but he just keeps chewing.

Rye rolls his eyes at Dan and sighs. “I should have warned you, I guess.”

Dan swallows. “That he works here? Yeah. That would’ve been nice.”

“Trying to avoid me?” I cock my head. “Funny way of showing it. Turning up at both my places of business in one day.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Dan says, his big eyes making him look incredibly earnest. “I’m surprised. That’s all. I wanted to see you again.”

He frowns and looks baffled by his own words. “But I don’t…” He shakes his head. “You know. I don’t… Do that with friends.”

Rye and I bark with laughter at the same time.

“Excuse me,” I say. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to be my friend?”

“If I’m your friend then we can’t meet again this weekend, and I was looking forward to that.”

Jeanie looks up from her drawing again, confusion in her eyes. “Being friends is good, Dan. Be friends with Sejin. Please.”

“I can’t,” Dan says firmly. “Not if I want to be something else with Sejin.”

“Something else?”

Dan nods.

“Like what?”

Rye gives Dan a sharp glance. “Yeah, like what, Dan?”

“Like climbing partners?” Jeanie asks with a sudden knowing. “You’re Mommy’s climbing partner. Do you want to be Sejin’s climbing partner instead of friends?”

“Sure,” Rye chimes in. “That’s what he means, honey.”

“Do you climb?” Dan asks me suddenly.

I’ve been up on a rock wall, but I don’t love it.

I’m not so great with heights. I’ve mainly done low-level bouldering because big walls are definitely not my speed.

But why is he going on about how we can’t be friends?

What kind of asshole doesn’t want to be friends with guys he sleeps with?

What if little Jeanie is actually a bad judge of character?

I already know Rye can be—look at his ex!

I wish for a customer to enter the shop right now with an overly friendly dog so I can see how Dan reacts to it. More than half the time, we have multiple animals in the place, but not today. Of course.

“I’ve been a few times,” I say.

“Hm.”

But that’s all he gives me. He goes back to his boba, and I’m left hanging there like a fool.

Rye shoots me a wide-eyed look that communicates his own vague irritation at Dan’s rudeness. But it’s not his fault that the guy I hooked up with is so…whatever this is.

I shrug. “Well, yeah. Okay, see you around, Rye. See you for Movement tomorrow, Jeanie.” I look at Dan who gazes back at me over his boba. “These tables won’t bus themselves.”

“We’re still on for this weekend, right?” Dan asks as I turn away.

I stop and consider. Are we? This has been a painfully uncomfortable conversation. Will it be like this every time I see him outside of having sex?

Probably.

My heart sinks, but then I stiffen my back.

So, what if it is? Weirdness is a foregone conclusion now.

He’ll either avoid the coffee shop after this, or he won’t.

If he doesn’t, then it’s clearly going to be uncomfortable, and if he does, then fine.

But none of that means he and I don’t have great chemistry in bed.

If we can fuck again like we did last night?

Then I guess it’s worth the awkwardness later.

It’s not breaking my promise to my mom if we’re just fucking, right?

Because… damn, it was good.

Like really, really good.

I turn back to him and smile tentatively. He frowns like he’s not satisfied by something about me or this interaction, but I don’t know what or why since he’s the one who’s made it weird. “Yeah, sure.”

Rye whistles under his breath. “Must’ve been out of this world then, because shit.”

“Mommy, shit is a bad word,” Jeanie pipes up.

“Oh, your father can bite me.” Rye takes a slow breath and adds, “Thanks for telling me, Jeanie, but Mommy can say whatever he wants, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Friday?” Dan says. “Or do you work?”

“I do, but I can come over after.”

“Yeah. Do that. I’ll be waiting.”

I go back to bussing tables with my heart pounding so hard I feel dizzy. What is it about that weirdo that makes me feel like my soul is leaving my body? I don’t know.

But no way is he a seahorse. No damn way.