Celeste frowns. “Okay, then.”

I clear my throat. “Before we work together, I need to go over some things with you.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “All right. What things?”

“First of all, I want you to know, I did everything I could to make it so we wouldn’t have to work together. But unfortunately, Evelyn is convinced you’re the perfect person for the job. And at this point, it’s also too late to get someone else.”

Celeste smirks, resting her chin on her right hand. “I knew I liked her.”

Frustration rises up inside me like a kettle about to boil over.

“I need this project to do well, Celeste,” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “If this doesn’t get the attention we need, my coworkers and I might lose our jobs.”

She sits up, finally serious. “This project is a big deal for me, too, so don’t worry about that. Or at least, not about the visual aspect of it. And I’m willing to work with you, if you’re willing to work with me.”

Celeste takes out a tablet from her big black purse and opens it to a gallery of what I can only assume is her most recent work. I try to keep a blank face as I look at her portraits, practically holding my breath because I cannot let her know that I stalked her online and have already seen some of these pictures. Thankfully, a good chunk are portraits and videos that weren’t shared on social media, featuring various individuals from all walks of life. All framed and lit perfectly, the people in her art somehow look both familiar and ethereal at the same time, like neighbors portrayed in a way that makes them appear otherworldly.

Like the pictures on her Instagram, all the pieces in her portfolio are beautiful, too. And I can now see why Evelyn thinks she’s perfect for this job. My voice comes out hushed when I say, “You’re really talented.”

Our eyes meet over the small candle in the center of the table. Somehow, even amid all the people laughing and sloshing beer around us, it feels like Celeste and I are in the middle of our own romantic date.

Fortunately, at that exact moment, loud cheers erupt from the people seated around us. Everyone raises their pints of beer, and Celeste, with a bemused look on her face, raises her hand like she’s holding an invisible drink.

Four dancers appear onstage, dressed in matching green shirts and either black skirts or leotard pants.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Celeste says. She stands up from her seat and whoops, joining in with the loud cheers. “Definitely not something you’d ever see in Korea. Well, maybe in Itaewon, but not anywhere else.”

A server comes by our table, asking, “Do you two want to order any drinks before they start the performance?”