Chapter Four
“Every villain has an origin story…”
S talking gets a bad rep.
Following someone doesn’t always mean you intend to harm them. I’ve never hurt anybody. I just find it easier to get to know people when they don’t know you’re getting to know them.
It’s more genuine, I think. Watching someone without them knowing you’re there is the best way to find out who they really are. Because people do a lot of things they normally wouldn’t when they think no one’s looking, and that’s the point.
Like birdwatching. Observe the creature in its most natural habitat, and you’ll catch the subtle nuances that make them unique.
Stalking is an art form. And I’m good at it.
Or maybe I’m just good at fading into the background, who knows.
New York City is a great place to slink around unseen.
I was born in Seoul, but by all accounts, I’m a New Yorker .
The city is an extraordinary place. Bustling with life and chaos, grim and guile.
For someone like me, it’s a haven of resounding solitude.
The perfect place to be surrounded by people and yet completely alone. The perfect place to be invisible .
That’s exactly how I met my ex .
By some minor miracle, I’d actually graduated from Bronx Community College.
Nothing fancy, but I got my bachelor’s degree in Exercise Science Tae Kwon Do, to be exact.
Working out is my favorite hobby, but moving into adulthood, I got super into various forms of mixed martial arts.
I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a fighter, or a coach, instructor, something along those lines.
Either way, graduating was quite the feat, since I wasn’t that into school. I like to learn, but the physical act of being in class wasn’t for me. By the end, I was doing most of my classes online.
Mulling over what to do next, I took a job delivering for DoorDash.
I had a Kawasaki Ninja street bike that was my pride and joy—his name was Raphael , after my favorite Ninja Turtle—so I figured the delivery thing was a no-brainer.
An easy way to make my own money while I was still living with my parents, to rely on them as little as possible.
Any time spent out of the house was a good thing too… Avoiding their constant lectures was in my best interest.
My sister, Jaelyn, had gotten married the year before and moved back to Seoul with her husband.
The way my parents had practically thrown her a parade for something as simple and stupid as falling in love was a constant point of inner contention for me.
I just didn’t understand why getting married and settling down was such a big deal.
That’s not to say I was a bachelor or anything.
I rarely dated, and sure, when I did, it was mostly casual.
But it’s not like I was some out-of-control horn-dog, sleeping around all the livelong day.
As far as my parents were concerned, if I didn’t bring a girl home to meet them as a potential future bride, it wasn’t worth knowing about.
Just another thing that made me feel unseen in their eyes.
To my father, it was all about legacy. Family meant carrying on our name, as some self-appeasing form of immortality.
I didn’t care about carrying on our name, though, nor did I care about having someone to come home to.
I couldn’t see liking anyone enough to share my life with them, because my life was mine and mine alone.
And yet, because I’m a person , not a robot, they’d somehow gotten under my skin.
I’d steadily begun to wonder about companionship.
Partnership. I wondered if there was anyone out there I might mesh well enough with to sustain an actual relationship…
Or at least enough to bring home and present as my girlfriend.
Maybe then my parents would see me as a real person. Maybe then I might exist to them.
The first time I saw Rey was at the restaurant where she worked. This Korean place called Red Bird. I went in to pick up someone’s takeout order, and she was up at the hostess stand, on the phone.
I think noticing her was inevitable. I’m sure a lot of people noticed her…
She was absolutely stunning. Bronzed complexion, light brown hair all silky smooth and running down her shoulders.
She had gorgeous eyes, with long, dark lashes—possibly fake, but who cares—and full lips, glossed over and sparkly.
Still, I think what inevitably hooked me was her smile…
She had the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder while she tapped the screen of an iPad, most likely taking a customer’s order. I stepped up to where the bags of takeout were sitting, checking for mine. But all the while, I couldn’t stop watching her.
She was clearly busy, and I felt a bit like a weirdo just standing there, staring at her, out in the open. I had no problem watching people; we know this. But I preferred to do it from somewhere they couldn’t see me .
I felt vulnerable. And I didn’t know how to process it. I grabbed the bag of food, ready to get the hell out of there. But then, the girl glanced at me. Her eyes popped up from the iPad screen. They locked with mine.
And she smiled.
It was bright, luminous, and just for me . There was no one else around… At least, no one close enough that I could be mistaking their smile for my own.
She was smiling at me , in a way that felt flirtatious. Interested.
Maybe it could be her… I thought. Maybe she could fill the void.
Time sped back up, and I forced myself to turn away and leave. Because when you’re like me, you don’t just ask a pretty girl out the first time she smiles at you. That’s foolhardy. That’s like buying electronics without reading the reviews first, or moving to a city before you’ve even visited.
No, no. That was too far out of my comfort-zone.
Instead, I finished out the rest of my deliveries, went back to Red Bird, and just watched.
I spent about a week watching the girl—from across the street, or around the corner. I drove up and down that block more times than I could even count, just to catch a glimpse of Rey . I got to know her from afar, and once I felt confident enough, I began inching in closer.
Sometimes I would follow her to Starbucks, or to the park on her breaks. I listened to a lot of her conversations—that’s how I found out she lived alone. And naturally, the next thing I knew, I was following her home.
Like I said, I’m not offended by the S-word.
I know what you’re thinking… “But Byron, how will you ever know if someone wants you around if you don’t let them know you’re there?”
That’s part of this story. We’ll get there.
Weeks of following Rey around had led me to believe that she could be my perfect mate.
She was just the right combination of introverted extrovert.
She wasn’t a wild party girl, but she knew how to have fun.
She was sweet and caring, but also tough when she needed to be.
She would bring leftovers from the restaurant to the homeless people up the block and stop to give tourists directions.
At the same time, she had no problem cursing people out when the situation called for it and flipping them off in the typical New Yorker, I’m walking here! fashion.
She was a beautiful, independent woman who might enjoy some male attention—when she wants it, of course. And the cherry on top was that she was Korean. See, Mom and Dad?? I listen.
I was smitten already; a great spot to be in before your first date even happens. All I had to do was decide on how to make first contact.
I obsessed about it for days, I won’t lie.
Debating whether I should ask her out at the restaurant, or accidentally bump into her somewhere else.
Admittedly, asking girls out wasn’t my strong suit.
I was much better at following people around and dating them in my mind.
But that wasn’t good enough this time. I needed to suck it up if I wanted this girl to actually be in my life. For real.
One night, I just so happened to be dropping off a DoorDash order on her block when I saw her coming out of 14th Street station. She was walking right toward me.
My heart crawled up into my throat so fast, I coughed. This was it.
Tugging my helmet off of my head, I let out a breath, watching in my peripheral as she grew closer. And just as she approached me, I turned, and we made eye contact.
She slowed down. “Oh… hey!” She smiled, and I smiled back.
“Hi,” I said casually, narrowing my gaze, because I had to at least pretend I didn’t instantly recognize her.
“Red Bird,” she chirped. “I’ve seen you in there before… picking up orders.”
“Ah, right.” I nodded, playing the part as I pushed my hair away from my forehead. “Small world.”
“That’s Manhattan for you.” She chuckled, then bit her lip. “I’m Rey, by the way.”
Of course I knew that from looking at her mail. “Nice to meet you, Rey.” I grinned, laying on the charm, though my palms were sweaty as fuck. “I’m Byron.”
“Very nice to meet you, Byron.” Her eyes did a satisfying glide up and down me, and the interest was blatant. Safe to say, the bike was working in my favor. “So… burning the midnight oil?”
I chuckled. Forced, but I didn’t mind. “Gotta make that money, right?”
“Unfortunately,” she sighed, clutching her coat.
“You live around here?” I asked, knowing exactly where she lived.
She nodded and bit her lip again. “Just up the block.”
“Well, that settles it then.” I hopped off my bike. “Looks like I’m walking you home.”
She giggled, a flirtatious sound I’d heard numerous times while listening to her on the phone. But still, this one was different. Because it was for me .