Free Fanfare by Renee Ahdieh Page A

was as if he were holding an invisible hand. I begged myself not to look into it at the same time that my stomach warmed over at the thought of him touching me.
    “This is my favorite Radiohead album,” I blurted aloud without thought.
    “Mine, too. Your iPod brought back a lot of fond memories of me in high school listening to this band obsessively and wishing I could be Thom Yorke.” He ran his fingers absentmindedly through his shaggy mop of hair. Whenever he felt uncomfortable, he spoke incredibly fast. I had a hard time breaking apart the words and turning them into coherent thoughts.
    “Well, I think you’re probably cuter than Thom Yorke, so I wouldn’t lament the fact that your dream didn’t come true.”
    “So, you think I’m cute?” He grinned crookedly again, and his eyes glittered with amusement.
    “Passably. Don’t get cocky now. I’d still pick Thom Yorke over you any day.” I pursed my lips mockingly.
    “It’s okay if you admit it. I think you’re quite pretty.”
    My face flushed, so I reverted to my trustworthy habit of making a wisecrack to avoid feeling self-conscious. Basically, I uttered the first thing that came to mind when I returned his careful gaze.
    “Actually, your nose is a bit crooked.” Damn! I’m such an idiot!
    He barked a short guffaw of surprise. “Your eyes are a little small,” he deadpanned subsequently.
    “Your eyebrows are way too bushy.”
    “Your teeth take over your face when you smile,” he retorted without missing a beat.
    I bared my teeth in a Cheshire cat grin and squinted my eyes simultaneously to enhance their smallness. My nose wrinkled with the effort, making the overall effect propitiously unattractive.
    That did it. Both of us hooted with amusement as we continued to mock the “flaws” in each other. I was surprised at how self-aware he appeared to be for a movie star. His unabashed laughter reminded me a bit of a child being tickled—it was incredibly charming.
    We were still insulting each other under our breaths as we prepared to walk into the Korean restaurant in Duluth. He temporarily conceded the match when I brought up his hobo-inspired hair again. Before we left the comfort of the car, he pulled the cap he’d held in his hand onto his head and lifted his collar to conceal his face as much as possible.
    “Hey, Dick Tracy . . . are you going to eat in disguise?” I asked.
    “I don’t know if we made it here without anyone following us. I’ll take off the coat once we’re inside.”
    “Are you serious?” I asked in surprise.
    “Unfortunately.”
    I frowned to myself. In the half-hour drive to Koreatown, I had managed to forget that Tom was a well-recognized celebrity. For the first time, it occurred to me that unflattering photographs of me in my Che shirt stuffing my mouth with bulgogi barbeque might make it onto the net. Instinctively, I pulled the collar of my coat up around my face and lowered my head into it.
    Tom chuckled under his breath when he saw me.
    Thankfully, the bored Korean girl at the front of the restaurant didn’t look closely at Tom’s face as she led us to our table. His posture was tense, and he took a deliberate look around the restaurant before his shoulders relaxed and he removed his coat. I followed suit.
    “I guess this is what it would have felt like if I had joined the CIA,” I joked nervously.
    “You wanted to be in the CIA?”
    “I toyed with the idea when I first graduated from college. Thankfully, that whole Valerie Plame thing happened, and I decided against that career. I don’t actually want that much attention.” I smiled in an attempt to make both of us feel more comfortable.
    “If your recent attempt at subterfuge is your best effort, it was a good decision on your part,” he jibed with an easy grin.
    “I’m sure all of your career dreams when you were younger made total sense.”
    “Of course. I actually aspired to be a ninja when I was a little boy. I would dress up in black and