“I didn’t plan this well,” I admit with a half smile. “I hardly ever do things like this. I like itineraries and schedules. I work best with them. Here, I’m flying by the seat of my pants and it feels . . . weird.”

“Weird good or weird bad?”

“Neither. Just weird.”

“Do some fun stuff so your memories aren’t full of disappointments. I want you to go home loving Seoul like me,” Anna advises. “But—and I don’t mean to be a total downer—hooking up with a Korean guy you met at an airport might not be the safest thing. Rich guys here are a lot like rich guys everywhere. They’ve had an easy life and expect a lot of things.”

“He’s not like that,” I start to reply, but I give up because I can tell by the expression on my flatmate’s face that she doesn’t believe me. To be fair, I would be telling Boyoung the same story back in Iowa. Beware of the dogs that lure you in with sweet smiles because their teeth are as sharp as the teeth of the ones that growl.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The text from Yujun comes right before I’m about to turn in. A few years ago, I would’ve characterized this as a booty text. Any message sent after, say, eight in the evening is seeking one thing, which would be consistent with all the warnings I’ve gotten from Boyoung and Jules and Anna. If I was smart, I wouldn’t even unlock my phone to read the message, but I don’t have that kind of willpower. Didn’t Anna say to do some fun stuff so I’m not filled with bad memories? I flick my finger against the screen and read the message.

YUJUN: Dinner tomorrow night?

Of course he’s not sending me a booty call. This is a guy who carried my suitcase up a thousand steps—or what seemed like a thousand steps. Besides, for someone like him, there are plenty of women willing to warm his bed. There were women at the airport who tripped over their luggage when he smiled. Why he has an interest in me is a mystery, but I’m not going to question it. Why do that to my self-esteem?

ME: Ye—

I stop before the last letter. What am I actually doing here? Just because Yujun is decent and gorgeous and kind and has dimples deep enough to get lost in doesn’t actually mean I should dive in. The warnings of my friend and flatmates weren’t issued because they want to stop me from being happy but rather because they don’t want me to get hurt. Yujun is a distraction—a sweet, wonderful distraction—but the point of this trip is to find my biological family. That’s what I came here to do. Not run around with a rich boy who thinks it’s cute to play tour guide, no matter how wonderful he is. Damn. I press the back button angrily.