Kidnapped Idol

by Jennie Bennett

  I scoff, shaking my head. “You don’t have to say those things because I’m helping you. I know who I am, and it’s not anything great.”

  “I don’t think you do,” he says, point blank.

  My thermostat must be broken because it feels insufferably hot. I don’t know what he’s looking at, but it can’t be me.

  I need a change of subject, ASAP. “What were you doing on the Great Wall that day, anyway?”

  “CSTAR didn’t trust me to stay at the company without them, so they dragged me to where their rookies were performing,” he says, relaxing into the couch. “It wasn’t the first time I ran. In fact, I’ve been caged up like an animal until tonight. They let me go on stage to perform, thinking I wouldn’t dare jump into the crowd, but I did. Then again, it wouldn’t have worked if I didn’t run into you.”

  Why does that make me proud? I didn’t do anything, except bite a dude’s hand.

  “You know what, Jenica Lee?” Woon says, bumping me with his elbow. “I think you’re good for me.”

  I whack him with the pillow one last time for being smart.

  ***

  Something is pounding. Like a jackhammer or something. My eyes flutter, and the pounding gets worse with the light.

  I groan, trying to shift position, but there’s something heavy on my lap. My eyes fly wide open to see Woon lying on my legs, dead asleep. Turns out the pounding was my heart.

  From what I can gather, we’ve been like this for a while. Woon and I were talking so late into the night, I don’t remember going to bed. Also, I’m pretty sure I was feeling up Woon’s chest just now. Not sure how that happened.

  I try to un-trap a leg only to find tingling pain shooting up my thigh. Sat on it too long.

  Woon stirs, his forehead crinkling as he sits up. “Jenica,” he says, even though he has yet to open his eyes.

  “It’s about time,” Blain cuts in.

  We both whip our heads around to see Blain standing in the kitchen, some bags on the table.

  “I bought you some new clothes, Woon,” she continues, like she didn’t just catch us snuggling. “I suggest you both shower because you stink.”

  I try to smell myself, but it doesn’t seem too bad.

  Blain starts to stomp off then comes back. “And shower separately, please.”

  My face is a million degrees. How can she even say such a thing?

  “You can shower first,” I say to Woon, running into the bedroom after Blain. He looks bewildered, but I don’t dwell on it.

  “What the crap?” I ask, the moment the door is shut.

  Blain looks me up and down. “You know you’re on the verge of having a boyfriend, right?”

  She cannot be serious. “He’s a celebrity,” I whisper through clenched teeth.

  Blain busts up laughing as loud as she can. “Honey, if he doesn’t like you, then I’m boring.”

  I slow my breathing as I study her. She’s dyed her hair fuchsia today, and her nose ring is a flat silver sun. She’s wearing a black top with a dark purple tulle skirt that sticks out all directions. Her pumps have to be at least five inches, even though she’s already tall. They’re also covered in glitter. Boring is the last thing Blain is, and she knows it.

  “But—” I start. The argument dies on my lips before I have the chance to continue.

  Blain has her hands on her hips, head cocked to one side. “Think about it. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have fallen asleep on you like that.”

  Yes, but why would he like me? He did say some nice stuff last night, but that was because he was grateful. Besides, he’s leaving.

  “Look,” Blain says, swiping open her phone. She’s about to pull up the internet when I grab her phone from her and lock it again. When I open it back up, there’s a new picture there.

  “What is this?”

  Blain is usually tough as nails. I’ve seen people call her all sorts of things. I’ve watched heads turn everywhere she walks. Strangers have approached her and asked her all kinds of weird questions. She doesn’t get embarrassed.

  I look at her again, making sure I’m picking up the right cues. Her face is the color of a tomato, and she’s not making direct eye contact. She always makes eye contact.

  “This is someone in Woon’s group, isn’t it?” I say, pointing to the screen.

  She tries to swipe it back from me, but I adjust so I can study the picture closer. The letters G.O. are written in cutesy font with hearts around it.

  “His name is Go?” I laugh.

  “No,” she says, grabbing the phone from me. “No more than Woon’s name is Maximus. Besides, it’s pronounced G. O.”

  Oh, she’s delusional. “You like him.” It’s not a question.

  “You like Woon!” she shouts.

  I rush to cover her mouth. “He’s in the other room.”

  She rips my hand away. “Listen,” Blain says, “The shower is running.”

  I pause, listening, and hear she’s right. I suppose we’re safe to talk.

  “So,” Blain says, “you’re admitting it.”

  My arms fold as I harrumph. “I am not.” Because I don’t have a shot with him.

  Blain taps my shoulder. “What were you doing last night, then?”

  I tap her back. “Talking.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “Didn’t look like talking to me.”

  This time I give her a gentle shove. “Shut up and quit changing the subject. We’re talking about you liking G.O.”

  “His name,” she says, “is Hyungsoo, and no we’re not. We’re talking about you and Woon getting together.”

  “Hyungsoo? Really?”

  Blain swipes open her phone again and pulls up a browser. “Look. A Woon is known for his cold personality. Even when the other guys are being warm, he stays back. He wouldn’t talk with just anyone.”

  I crinkle my brow, not sure what to think.

  Blain changes the site. “There’s even a bunch of fanfiction about him being rude to someone before falling in love.”

  “Wait,” I say, still teasing her. “Fanfictions?”

  I snatch her phone from her and notice something she’s reading. “G.O.’s ideal type is a girl who’s conservative.” I read aloud. “Are you seriously getting into this?”

  Blain huffs, taking her phone back. “You’re the one who started this. I was researching Woon for your sake, and I ended up getting a little sucked in.”

  My eyes widen as I see right through her. She’s one of them. Those girls who are totally gaga over K-pop. Hyungsoo, or G.O., has totally held her captive.

  “How many fanfics have you read?”

  I didn’t think the red on her face could deepen, but it does. “A few.”

  “A few?” I question, shaking my head. “I was wondering why you were on your phone so late every night.”

  “They’re good, okay?” she says. “And yes, I’m a fan now, so you’ll just have to get used to it. Heck, plenty of people like football and superheroes, why can’t I like this?”

  Wow, she’s defensive. I’ll have to remember not to cross her. And honestly, I like it too. I’ve spent more time this past week researching Woon than worrying about my homework, which is saying something.

  “Crap!” I shout. “I have homework to do!”

  “You’re really going to—” Blain says, but I don’t listen to the rest.

  I charge out of my room with the intention of getting my book bag from the coat closet, but I run into something hard and wet the moment I open the door.

  My lips collide with bare skin. There are only two other people in this apartment, and one of them is behind me.

  Cleared Air

  I step back, the flesh on my lips sticking a little as I do. I’ve just run into Woon’s perfectly arched collarbone. How can I look into his face?

  This did not happen. I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen.

  He’s not moving, and I can only imagine what he’s thinking. I’m going to have to
apologize. It’s one thing to see pictures online, it’s another to feel his body warmth and smell the soap he just showered with.

  He has a towel draped over his shoulder, sweat pants covering his lower half. Either Blain knew his size, or Woon looks good in anything. I’m guessing it’s the latter.

  I force my eyes to travel from his perfectly sculpted chest up to his face. What I find there isn’t what I was expecting. He has a wicked grin and an evil gleam in his eyes.

  Forgetting all about my apology, I shove him. “What are you doing standing outside a girl’s room?”

  Shoving was a mistake, because now I’ve felt his exposed abs. Geeze, he might as well call me a perv.

  I close my eyes and ball my fists, backing up.

  “Maybe you should get dressed,” I hear Blain say behind me. “There’s one more thing Jenica and I need to discuss.”

  “Wait,” he calls, and I open my eyes to see he’s still smiling. “I couldn’t find a shirt.”

  Blain starts looking around her. “Are you sure...” She grabs a plastic bag off her bed and riffles inside. “Sorry about that,” she says, shoving the shirt in his grip and the door in his face.

  I don’t remember sitting, but here I am, sunk into my bed. I’m awkward enough without accidently kissing his chest. Holy crap, I kissed his chest! I might die from embarrassment.

  Blain shakes me. “Get yourself together, Woman!”

  “You were right,” I say, my breathing short and fast. “I shouldn’t have let him stay. This is very bad.”

  “No,” Blain says, pulling me to my feet. “It’s not.”

  I collapse on her. “Yes, it is. Did you see his face? He thinks I’m totally inept. Maybe I am.”

  Blain pulls me off her and moves her head so I’m forced to see her face. “You’re the smartest girl I know, and it’s his fault for listening outside our door without knocking.”

  Was he really listening to us? What did I say? I start for the door, but Blain grabs my shirt and wheels me around until I’m sitting on the bed again. “Calm down, okay? We’re not done talking.”

  I’m sand falling through an hourglass. No matter how I wish I could turn myself around, I can’t. Gravity has complete hold, making it impossible to change what just happened.

  “Will you wake up?” Blain says right in front of me.

  I fall into my pillow wishing I could scream, but knowing Woon would hear me.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Blain coos, rubbing my back. “Why don’t you forget about your homework and get ready instead? I bought us lunch already, so you don’t have to worry about cooking.”

  Lunch? I didn’t think I had slept that late. I pick up my phone and gasp. It’s already three. How did I not notice when I was looking at Blain’s picture earlier?

  “All right,” Blain amends. “An early dinner.”

  “But he’s coming tonight,” I say, butterflies flaring up.

  Blain juts her chin forward. “Who’s coming tonight?”

  I lie down again, this time on my back. “I don’t know. One of Woon’s groupmates.”

  “Members,” Blain corrects. She’s gone from red to completely pale.

  “You don’t think...” I say, wondering if it’s this G.O. person.

  She shrugs. “There are five other guys besides those two. What are the chances?”

  “One in six,” I say.

  Blain runs her hands through her hair. “Those are good odds.”

  I have to stop panicking and start acting. If another member of his group is almost here, I don’t have much time left. Woon wants me to help him, and I still haven’t agreed. If I do, does that mean he gets to stay until Tuesday? And if he stays, what does that mean for me? Am I going to put my studying on hold and ruin my semester abroad?

  There are too many questions without answers.

  “I’m going to shower,” I say. “You keep Woon occupied, and don’t let him go anywhere.”

  Blain barely acknowledges, still a zombie on my bed.

  I want to get ready fast so I can have more time with Woon, but I also want to look hot. If that’s possible. I decide to skip washing my hair so I don’t have to blow-dry. Thank goodness for dry shampoo.

  Curling is a must, however, as is makeup. I keep glancing at the time, trying to make myself go faster, but beauty is a process. I pick out my favorite graphic tee and my skinniest jeans, topping off the look with my black Converse.

  When I emerge, the T.V. is on. Blain is totally unfocused, but Woon is laughing his head off. There’s a scattering of orange peels around him and I notice he’s gone through half a bowl of Mandarins.

  Blain must’ve bought his shirt too small, because I can’t unsee what’s underneath. Did she have to get white?

  This is going to be okay. We’re both adults, and we both have voices. We can work this out.

  “Hey,” I say to Woon, trying to act cool by leaning against the wall. Instead, I miss the wall by half an inch and stumble forward. I stand straight and clear my throat, shoving my thumbs in my back pockets. “Whatcha doin’?”

  Woon glances at me and drops his orange. It rolls under the coffee table, but he doesn’t bother to pick it up. He clears his throat, his focus turning back to the T.V., then to me, then back to the T.V.

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Um,” he says, blinking rapidly. “I’m just watching this show.”

  His back is stiff, hands on his knees. Do I really look that bad?

  “Oh good,” Blain says. “You’re out of the bathroom.”

  I’ve never seen her so out-of-it. She nudges me as she passes by to enter the bathroom, totally unaware of what she’s doing.

  “What’s with her?” I say, taking her place on the couch next to Woon.

  Woon steadies his breathing, still not looking my direction. “I don’t know.”

  Dang, that chest kiss was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened. Woon is leaving soon, and now he won’t even talk to me. Maybe it’s good. I can get over him faster.

  I stand and make my way to the kitchen, bending over to look in the fridge. I’m starving. “Hey,” I call. “Blain said she bought some food, do you know—?”

  My words fall short when I turn around to look at Woon. He eyes are wide. Was he looking at my backside? He quickly pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face like that will hide him.

  “Never mind,” I say turning back around. “I’ll find it.”

  There’s an unopened take-out box on the counter, noodles inside. I flip it open and find the chopsticks, shoving the drawer closed with my hip.

  My gaze falls on Woon, who’s back to playing the part of a two-by-four. The orange he dropped is still under the table. It doesn’t look like he’s enjoying his show, so I’m not sure why he’s still watching it.

  I turn my back to him and try to forget it. Curse my shyness, or else I’d think of something to say. I eat the noodles quickly hoping it will calm the nerves in my tummy.

  The only reason I can see for acting this way is because he’s leaving. Maybe last night some of the energy from the chase was still in him, but now that he’s rested and cleaned up, he’s come to his senses enough to realize he never should’ve associated with a pion like me.

  Accidently kissing his chest was the cherry on top of the weirdo sundae.

  I have to fix it. It’s not in my personality to confront, but this is a desperate time.

  I slam down my chopsticks and spin around. “Look,” I say, drawing his attention to me. “I didn’t mean to do that. Don’t think I meant anything by it.”

  He’s still not making eye contact with me, his gaze somewhere above my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Great, do I have to spell it out? I plop on the couch next to him, hugging the same pillow I did last night. I can see his breathing speed up as I sit. His eyes are darting around until they land on the T.V. again.

  My fingernail digs into the button on the remote as I
turn it off. There, now he has to pay attention to me.

  “I didn’t mean to kiss you, or to touch your abs,” I say, the words strained. “I’m sorry.”

  His Adam’s apple moves up and down his neck as he swallows. His fingers are tapping his knees now, and he still won’t turn my way. “It’s fine,” he says, but his sincerity is lacking.

  “Look,” I say, “I know you’re way out of my league. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to make a move on you.”

  He blinks, looking at me for the first time. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, that...incident.” I move my hands as I speak as if that will make the point clear.

  “And what incident is that?”

  Now he’s just playing with me.

  “I mean,” I start, scratching my head. Since he’s not going to get it unless I’m direct, I might as well be honest. “It’s not like I don’t enjoy flirting with you, but I didn’t mean to kiss your chest.”

  “Hold up,” he says, looking like he’s holding back a laugh. “What did you say?”

  He should know he doesn’t have to pretend for me. “You’re a big shot celebrity, and I’m a nobody so you’re not talking to me because of everything that’s hap—”

  The pillow rips as he tears it from my grip. He leans over me so I’m forced to lie down, one veined arm planted on the edge of the couch and the other over my head.

  Holy mother. Does he not know how dangerous this is? He’s not touching me anywhere, but he might as well be running his hands over me for the trouble he’s causing. Every part of my system is on high alert—blood pumping, nerves rippling, breath coming out short.

  All I can focus on are his perfect plump lips and his strong jaw. He dips down, his face so close I can taste the oranges he was just eating.

  “Whoa,” Blain says from somewhere near the hall.

  I slide out from under Woon, my cheeks burning.

  He sits up like nothing happened. I swear if this is a joke.

  Blain laughs. “Guess I can’t leave you two unattended anymore.”

  I shoot her a death glare. She has no idea what just happened. I don’t even know myself. It’s all so confusing.