Eleanor & Park

‘What about that old TV show,’ she said,

‘with the karate guy?’

‘ Kung Fu?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That actor was white, and that character was a monk.’

‘What about …’

‘There aren’t any,’ Park said. ‘Look at M*A*S*H. The whole show takes place in Korea, and the doctors are always flirting with Korean girls, right? But the nurses don’t use their R&R

to go to Seoul to pick up hot Korean guys.

Everything that makes Asian girls seem exotic makes Asian guys seem like girls.’

The gander was still honking at them. Park picked up a chunk of melting snow and tossed it half-heartedly in the goose’s direction. He still couldn’t look at Eleanor.

‘I don’t know what any of that has to do with me,’ she said.

‘It has everything to do with me,’ he answered.

‘No.’ She put her hand on his chin and made him face her. ‘It doesn’t … I don’t even know what it means that you’re Korean.’

‘Beyond the obvious?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘ exactly. Beyond the obvious.’

Then she kissed him. He loved it when she kissed him first.

‘When I look at you,’ she said, leaning into him, ‘I don’t know if I’m thinking you’re cute because you’re Korean, but I don’t think it’s in spite of it. I just know that I think you’re cute.

Like, so cute, Park …’

He loved it when she said his name.

‘Maybe I’m really attracted to Korean guys,’

she said, ‘and I don’t even know it.’

‘Good thing I’m the only Korean guy in Omaha,’ he said.

‘And good thing I’m never getting out of this dump.’

It was getting cold, and probably late; Park wasn’t wearing a watch.

He stood up and pulled Eleanor to her feet.

They held hands and cut through the park to get to the car.

‘ I don’t even know what it means to be Korean,’ he said.

‘Well, I don’t know what it means to be Danish and Scottish,’ she said. ‘Does it matter?’

‘I think so,’ he said, ‘because it’s the number-one thing people use to identify me. It’s my main thing.’

‘I’m telling you,’ she said, ‘I think your main thing might be that you’re cute. You’re practically adorable.’

Park didn’t mind the word adorable. Eleanor

They’d parked on the far side of the Market, and the lot was mostly empty by the time they got back. Eleanor felt tense and reckless again.

Maybe it was something about this car …

The Impala might not look pervy on the outside, not like a fully carpeted custom van or something – but the inside was a different story.

The front seat was almost as big as Eleanor’s bed, and the back seat was an Erica Jong novel just waiting to happen.

Park opened the door for her, then ran around the car to get in. ‘It’s not as late as I thought,’ he said, looking at the clock on the dash. 8:30.

‘Yeah …’ she said. She put her hand down on the seat between them. She tried to do it casually, but it came off pretty obvious.

Park laid his hand on top of hers.

It was just that kind of night. Every time she looked at him, he was looking back at her. Every time she thought about kissing him, he was already closing his eyes.

Read my mind now, she thought.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said.

‘Okay.’ Park took his hand away and put the key in the ignition. Eleanor reached up and caught his sleeve before he could turn it.

He dropped the keys and, all in one motion, he turned and scooped her into his arms. Seriously, scooped. He was always stronger than she expected him to be.

If you were watching them now (and you totally could because the windows weren’t fogged over yet) you’d think that Eleanor and Park did this kind of thing all the time. Not just the once before.

This time was already different.

They weren’t moving forward in orderly steps, like a game of Mother May I? They weren’t even kissing each other square on the mouth.

(Lining things up neatly would take too long.) Eleanor climbed up his shirt, climbing on top of him. And Park keptpulling her to him, even when she couldn’t come any closer.

She was wedged between Park and the steering wheel, and when he pushed his hand up her shirt, she leaned against the horn. They both jumped, and Park accidentally bit her tongue.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said, glad that he didn’t pull his hand away. Her tongue didn’t seem to be bleeding. ‘You?’

‘Yeah …’ He was breathing heavy, and it was wonderful. I did this to him, she told herself.

‘Do you think …’ he said.

‘What?’ He probably thought they should stop. No, she thought, no, I don’t think. Don’t think, Park.

‘Do you think we should … don’t think I’m a creep, okay? Do you think we should get in the back seat?’

She pushed off of him and slid over the back seat. God, it was huge, it was glorious.

Not even a second later, Park landed on top of her. Park

She felt so good underneath, even better than he’d expected. (And he’d expected her to feel like heaven, plus nirvana, plus that scene in Willy Wonka where Charlie starts to fly.) Park was breathing so hard, he couldn’t get any air.

It seemed impossible that this could feel as good to Eleanor as it did to him – but she was making these faces … She looked like a girl in a Prince video. If Eleanor was feeling anything like what he was feeling, how were they ever supposed to stop?

He pulled her shirt up over her head.

‘Bruce Lee,’ she whispered.

‘What?’ That didn’t seem right. Park’s hands froze.

‘Super-hot Asian guy. Bruce Lee.’

‘Oh …’ He laughed, he couldn’t help it.

‘Okay. I’ll give you Bruce Lee …’

She arched her back and he closed his eyes.

He’d never get enough of her.

CHAPTER 46 Eleanor

Richie’s truck was in the driveway, but the whole house was dark, thank God. Eleanor was sure that something would give her away. Her hair. Her shirt. Her mouth. She felt radioactive.

She and Park had been sitting in the alley for a while, in the front seat, just holding hands and feeling whiplashed. At least, that’s how Eleanor felt. It wasn’t that she and Park had gone too far, necessarily – but they’d gone a whole lot farther than she’d been prepared for. She’d never expected to have a love scene straight out of a Judy Blume book.

Park must be feeling strange, too. He sat through two Bon Jovi songs without even touching the radio. Eleanor had left a mark on his shoulder, but you couldn’t see it anymore.

This was her mom’s fault.

If Eleanor were allowed to have normal rela-tionships with boys, she wouldn’t have felt like she had to hit a home run the very first time she ended up in the back seat of a car – she wouldn’t have felt like it might be her only time at bat.

(And she wouldn’t be making these stupid baseball metaphors.)

It hadn’t been a home run, anyway. They’d stopped at second base. (At least, she thought it was second base. She’d heard conflicting defini-tions for the bases.) Still …

It was wonderful.

So wonderful that she wasn’t sure how they’d survive never doing it again.

‘I should go in,’ she said to Park, after they’d been sitting in the car a half-hour or more. ‘I’m usually home by now.’

He nodded but didn’t look up or let go of her hand.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘We’re … okay, right?’

He looked up then. His hair had flattened out, and it fell in his eyes. He looked concerned.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Oh. Yeah. I’m just …’

She waited.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, like he was embarrassed.

‘I … just really don’t want to say goodbye to you, Eleanor. Ever.’

He opened his eyes and looked straight into her. Maybe this was third base.

She swallowed. ‘You don’t have to say goodbye to me ever,’ she said. ‘Just tonight.’

Park smiled. Then he raised an eyebrow.

Eleanor wished she could do that.