JENNIE

Ouch!

I drop my curling iron into the sink with a clatter, shaking out my hand to cool off the burn. When was the last time I did my hair, and why did I think I could pull off these loose waves without a tutorial? Those are two questions I may never have the answer to.

One thing I do know for sure, though. Tonight is the night the pale yellow wedges I impulse-bought last summer come out of their hiding spot in the back of the closet. Why? Because for the first time in half an eternity, I have a date. And just because my day began with a zapped car battery and an emergency rescue mission from my ex-slash-boss doesn't mean it can't end on a higher note.

I pick up the curling iron again, sectioning off a portion of hair and wrapping it around the barrel. But when I pull the iron away, it looks like someone tried to feed my hair through a jammed copy machine. Awesome.

So much for looking like a ten tonight. I guess I'll just have to pull out my straightener to get myself back on track. If only that track was heading toward Lisa's place for pizza night with Lauren, not toward a mediocre Italian place with a guy I hardly know.

Before my flat iron has warmed up to a usable temperature, my phone buzzes with a calendar reminder. Just thirty minutes until I'm supposed to be at the restaurant.

I finish my hair and take another glance in the full-length mirror. The white sundress falls to my knees, and I straighten it over my hips. With a sweep of pink lip gloss and a final shot of hairspray, my confidence is renewed.

I'm Jennie freaking Kim, and tonight, I'm throwing out my usual first-grade teacher vibes for full-on first-date bombshell. I'm ready to stop thinking about my history with Lex and start writing a brand-new story with someone new. And I think Kai just might be the guy for the job.

For starters, we have a ton in common. We're both teachers and . . . okay, that's actually the end of the list so far. But that's because I've never interacted with him outside of school. Tonight, that's all going to change. We're going to get a couple of eleven-dollar pasta entrees, split a bottle of wine, and totally hit it off. I can just feel it. This is the start of something completely new for me.

I arrive at the restaurant at six o'clock sharp, but thanks to an incredibly chaotic parking lot, it's a few minutes after six by the time I finally step through the doors. The date-night crowd is out in full force tonight, with just about every table spoken for. If Kai is here already, I won't be able to spot him among the masses.

"Reservation under Kai Jongin?" I ask the hostess, drumming my fingers nervously against my clutch. "I'm not sure if he's here yet."

"That's me!" a voice that's louder than seems appropriate shouts over the ambient music.

I snap my head in its direction, locking eyes with my date. He's tucked away at a small table next to the kitchen.

The hostess gives me a sweet, almost apologetic smile before leading me to our table, where Kai is waiting with a bottle of wine and a bread basket that, by the looks of it, he's already combed through for all the good rolls.

"Hey there, Jane. Nice of you to finally show up."

I cringe at that absolute no-go of a nickname, but before I can correct him, he jumps to his feet, maneuvering around the table to pull me into an ill-advised side hug. Suddenly, this feels less like a date and more like dinner with a coworker.

Sigh. We're not off to a great start.

Once we've both settled into our seats, I have a chance to get a real, honest-to-God look at my date for this evening. And I hate to be mean, but he's not as good-looking as I remembered. Maybe it's just his sunburned cheeks that are throwing me off, but I also don't recall him having that receding hairline. For bonus points, his normally clean-shaven face is a mess of patchy stubble. It's like the hair on his head said see ya and relocated to his jawline. But maybe I won't notice after a glass or two of wine.

"Hope you're good with red." Kai gestures to the uncorked bottle in the middle of the table. I recognize the label immediately—this is the same brand of cheap five-dollar wine I pick up when I'm grading papers.

"Of course," I lie, then fill up my glass and take a good, long sip.

It takes a lot of willpower, but I manage not to visibly wince at the taste. I'm getting notes of friend vibes and dead dreams. Rudely, my taste buds choose now as a good time to remind me that, less than a week ago, I was drinking a fancy-pants chardonnay with a much better-groomed woman. A woman that makes my heart rate shoot up, despite the short leash I try to keep my body on when she's near.

"How's your summer going?" Kai asks, pulling me back into the present.

Jeez. Since when am I the kind of girl to fantasize about another person while on a date? I really need to pull it together. I'm being rude.

"It's been great so far," I say, forcing a smile. "What about you? Are you missing your kiddos?"

"Not even a little." Kai chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm not actually a huge fan of kids."

I blink at him, waiting for him to admit that he's making a joke, albeit not a very funny one. Instead, he just smiles sheepishly from behind his wineglass.

"You're kidding, right?" I ask on a nervous laugh. He has to be. Who in the world would go into education without being truly passionate about kids?

Much to my surprise and complete confusion, Kai shakes his head. "I was originally in school to be an engineer," he says, swirling his wine around inside his glass as he gazes up at the ceiling. "I wanted to work on planes. But it turns out those classes are, like, really hard. I was failing out of the program and needed to find a new major, and fast. Luckily, I'd already passed a few of the prerequisite courses for a degree in elementary education. So, here I am."

He finally returns his gaze to me, shooting me a big, cheesy smile, as though the crazy talk coming out of his mouth was the most normal thing in the world. Meanwhile, my fingernails are digging tiny trenches into my palms.

"So you became a teacher . . . by accident?" My voice is strained, but it's all I can do to keep from snapping at this guy in the middle of this perfectly mediocre restaurant.

"Not really by accident. It was more just like a backup plan. Those who can't do, teach, right?"

His nasally laugh makes my stomach uneasy, so I settle it with a long, slow sip of this terrible cabernet, and fix my gaze on his hairline to keep from having to look this jerk in the eye.

"Personally, I think the people forming the minds of our future generations shouldn't be doing it just as a backup plan," I reply curtly. Frankly, I shouldn't even dignify that overused teacher joke with a response, but I'm not just going to sit here and act like my profession is a punch line.

Kai's brown eyes widen to twice their normal size. "Wow, you, uh, really care a lot about this."

"Of course I do," I mumble, pinching off a bite of bread and popping it between my lips. Maybe if I'm chewing, I'll be able to hold back all the snarky comments I'd like to spew across the table right now. Plus, the sooner the food is gone, the sooner this first date finishes dying its slow, painful death.

"Well, I think that's really great. I'm hoping to get back into working with planes someday. Maybe I'll become a pilot or something. But until then, having the summers off is nice, right? Two-month vacation." He holds up a hand across the table, like I'm supposed to high-five him or something. After a solid ten seconds of me ignoring it, he dejectedly pulls it away.

"I'm working this summer, actually," I say. "Nannying."

As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I regret them. The last thing I need is for Kai to ask any questions about Lauren, or worse yet, her dada, who has been occupying my thoughts nonstop for this entire date.

I reach for my menu, trying to busy myself with selecting an entree instead of continuing the conversation about my summer employment. But just the word spaghetti reminds me of Lisa and our entirely emoji-based conversation.

My heart squeezes at the memory. Can I do a single thing, anything, without her waltzing through my mind?

I swore turning Lisa down was the right decision. But now, sitting across the table from my complete dud of a date, I'm not so sure. Kai is cute enough, smart enough, a decent overall guy, I guess. But being around him . . . I feel nothing. Add in the fact that he doesn't like kids, and I just can't see a future with this guy.

I glance up over my menu, catching my date in the middle of the not-so-subtle act of scratching his balls, and I sigh.

Maybe Kai isn't the man I'm looking for after all. I need someone nurturing and strong, yet sensitive. Someone who values my work in the classroom. I'm not just looking for any old guy to spend the night with anymore. I'm looking for someone I can build a life with.

I'm looking for someone like . . . Well, like Lalisa Manoba.

"Uh, hello? Jane?"

For the second time tonight, I reenter reality with a jolt. A reality where, unfortunately, I zoned out staring across the table at this guy, making a less than savory face.

"Please, it's Jennie," I mutter, burying my face in my menu again.

A wicked smirk tugs at his lips, his brown eyes narrowing in a challenge. "What, you don't like it, Jane?"

Good Lord, for a man who doesn't like kids, he sure acts a lot like one.

I drop the menu, folding my arms over my chest. "No, I don't. You can't just give someone a nickname without even knowing them. What if I called you 'Kegel'? Would you like that?" I smile a little, proud of my own joke.

Unfortunately, Kegel here takes that as permission to press things even further. He props his elbows on the table, leaning in closer than feels comfortable. "I don't know," he whispers, sweeping his tongue over his lower lip. "Does that mean you're thinking about me being between your thighs?"

"Enough." With a huff, I shove up out of my seat.

I take back everything I thought about him being a half-decent guy. He's a jerk who deserves to have the rest of this glass of crappy wine thrown in his face. But I'm not going to do that. Not even crappy wine deserves a fate that dire. Instead, I'm just going to get out of here as fast as humanly possible.

"I don't think this is going to work out."

With a quick "see you in the fall," I grab my purse and put these beautiful wedges to work as I hightail it straight to the door. I don't even bother to look back before click-clacking my way straight out to the car and gunning it home, turning the radio up all the way to drown out my own thoughts.

What an absolute creep. I can't believe that man is allowed to work with children.

Back at home, I dejectedly remove my shoes, returning them to their rightful place in the back of the closet, then change into my pajamas and wash off my makeup. My new Saturday night plans involve ordering Chinese for delivery and watching TV until I fall asleep on the couch.

But just as I'm pressing ORDER on my kung pao chicken and crab rangoon, a text from Lisa pops up on my screen.

Did you make it home safe?

I can't suppress my smirk as I type out my response. Does he really think she's being sneaky by asking me that? I know what the real question is, and I'm not afraid to call her out on it.

Are you actually wondering that, or are you just trying to see if my date went into overtime?

Lisa's response comes right away.

Is there an option C, all of the above?

I let out a loud belly laugh. "Well played. Well played."

I'm safe at home. Thanks for checking.

I set my phone down on my coffee table and reach for the remote, ready to scout out tonight's binge watch. But before I even get a chance to press the power button, my phone buzzes again with her reply.

Maybe if I had even an ounce of chill, I'd let the text sit and make her wait for a minute or two. But I can't deny it—I really want to talk to her. And the giddy feeling in my stomach agrees. Unfortunately, when I swipe open her text, she's looking for details on my evening.

How'd the date go?

I tap my thumb against the side of my phone, choosing my words carefully. It feels more than a little weird to be texting Lisa about a date with another guy, but if she specifically asked, I guess I can accommodate her.

It was fine.

Just fine? she replies.

I pause, questioning the sanity of giving her any more details, but with a date as bad as tonight's, I have to tell someone. Maybe I can just give her a general idea of the night.

It was fine. We went to Luigi's, but he turned out to be kind of a dud.

Luigi's? Isn't that a cheap chain place?

A smile pulls at my lips. I figured that would be the detail she'd latch onto. Before I get a chance to reply, she shoots me another text.

If that's the best he can do, you're better off with someone else.

I heave out a sigh, staring blankly at my phone.

Lisa is right. I would be better off with someone else. But the only someone else on my mind lately is the one I shouldn't want.