“I do not.” Jules lifts the carry-on and sets it at the base of the stairs. “But the first thing you should know about Korean guys is that while they remember shit like the first date and celebrate little things like your hundred-day anniversary and bring you pretty gifts, they’re as terrible as American men. It’s a universal truth. Jane Austen wrote about it.”

“I thought she said the universal truth was that a single man with money wanted a wife,” I reply.

“Exactly. They want a wife, not love. Besides, it doesn’t matter because the good ones aren’t going to marry a foreigner anyway, although it might be different for you because you’re Korean.” Jules’s eyes narrow as she inspects me.

“It was a ride,” I protest.

“Stop grilling her.” Anna shakes her head. “She just got here.”

“I’m trying to prepare her.”

“Do it later.” Anna starts up the stairs with the small case, waving her hand for me to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room. It’s up on the third floor, so you might want to unpack down here and carry your stuff up in smaller batches.”

Filled with the foolish confidence of someone who is eager to escape an uncomfortable situation, I tighten my hand on my suitcase. “Nah, I’m good.” By the second floor, my arm feels like a noodle and I’m beginning to regret so many things, such as why I didn’t listen to Anna, who lives here and has trekked up these stairs multiple times. I should learn to be less hardheaded.

“You okay?” Anna asks halfway up the second flight of stairs.

“Yeah. I’ve got it. I know I may sound like I’m a dying cow, but I can make it.” I lift the suitcase two inches off the ground.

Anna suppresses a small smile but bounds up ahead. “Sorry about Jules. She doesn’t hate all men and definitely not all Korean men. She dated a teacher for a while but it didn’t go anywhere. Her feelings are bruised.”

“I understand.” My dating history hasn’t been wonderful either. It’s not that I’ve sworn off men entirely but that there doesn’t seem to be a need for one, which is why my instant reaction to Yujun is odd. Maybe it’s because I’ve been without for so long that I wanted to jump him at the first flash of his dimples. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never been in such close proximity to male perfection. Or maybe it’s because I’m apprehensive in this new country, and his was the first kind face I’ve seen. I guess it doesn’t matter because nothing will come of it. Years from now, it’s a story I’ll tell on drunken nights back in Iowa with Kelly and Jeff.

“Here’s your room.” Anna pushes the door open to reveal a small bedroom with a twin bed, a dresser, a chair, and a nightstand. The pictures made the room look bigger, but it has everything I need. “Our one bathroom is the door at the top of the first flight of stairs. Do you have shower shoes?”