Idol Star School: A Dark Bully Romance (Idol High School Book 1)

by Nara Noelle

  “It wasn’t my idea,” he repeated in a screechy voice. “Classic bully move. It’s easy to cast the blame on everyone else, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes. “Newsflash. If you played along with them, you’re just as much of an asshole. I’m too old for this bullshit.”

  “You’re, what, seventeen? Congratulations on being so damn mature for your age. How impressive,” I snarled.

  “That’s beside the point. Arang, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and your stupid bandmates scheming against me!” he yelled while he marched away.

  “No. You brought this upon yourself. Had you not been going around the west wing late at night and sneaking into women’s bathrooms, the boys and I would’ve left you alone,” I argued.

  Although I expected him to disappear into the woods without giving me a second glance, he slowed down after a while.

  “Unless you enjoy getting drenched in rain, why don’t you hurry up a little?” he said, turning around to scowl at me.

  “Piss off,” I muttered.

  A minute later, we arrived outside a log cabin.

  When Hamin grabbed the door handle, I asked, “Is it locked?”

  “Yup,” he replied as he took off one of his shoes.

  “Fantastic,” I grumbled, going over to one of the windows and tapping on it. “Despite all of our differences, I’m sure you and I can agree that we don’t want to wait out here for hours on end. Alright. Why don’t you take a step back? It looks like I’m going to have to smash this.”

  “Woah. There’s no need to get violent, Prince Arang. Now, sit back and watch the real pro do the work,” he said, fiddling with a thin piece of wire.

  “What’s that?” I went over to him. “Is that a hairclip?”

  “Yeah. This is a bobby pin,” he murmured as he put it into the door lock.

  While he picked the lock, I watched in complete silence. Soon enough, he was able to twist the handle. Damn. I was impressed.

  “Voila,” he murmured as he opened the door.

  “Who taught you how to do that?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s a long story. Why don’t we leave it at that?” he said smugly.

  The cabin was small, but it had everything we needed. There was a kitchenette next to the sofa and coffee table, a bedroom with two bunk beds, and, best of all, a bathroom with running water.

  Though my body ached, I couldn’t collapse on the sofa since I was absolutely drenched in mud and rain. So I immediately hopped into the shower. While I was in there, I hand-washed my T-shirt, underwear, and jeans, then hung them to dry on the towel rack. Once I was done, I went through the bathroom drawers and pulled out a white bathrobe.

  Big mistake. When I came out, Hamin gawked at me from the sofa. He was sitting upright as if he was in the waiting room before a job interview. Though my first thought was to question why he was staring at me like he’d never seen a man in a bathrobe before, I knew that would just make our interaction more awkward.

  “Aren’t you going to take a shower?” I asked.

  “I’d rather not,” he replied, shifting in his seat.

  Unsure of what else to do, I headed to the kitchenette and inspected the shelves.

  “What are you looking for?” Hamin said.

  “I think I’ll make myself a cup of tea,” I blurted out. Of course, that wasn’t what I had in mind. All I wanted was to kill time doing something—anything. Soon after, I realized that it might’ve been wiser for me to head to the bedroom and pretend to catch up on some sleep.

  “Uh, cool. Drink up.”

  “Do you want some?”

  “What do we have with us?” He got up and walked over to me. “By the way, we’ve got bottled water, soda, and beer in the minifridge. I checked while you were in the shower.”

  Once I flung the fridge open, I whistled in approval. It was jampacked. Were we in Executive Song’s secret lair or something? Hamin and I had enough beverages to last us a week, though the prospect of staying here for seven more days was an utter nightmare.

  “You know what? I’m going to have a can of beer,” I hastily announced.

  “Okay,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

  Before I reached into the fridge, I asked, “Do you want to join me for a drink? The rain’s not going to stop anytime soon. We might be here for a while.”

  “Sure.”

  Five minutes later, we were sitting together on the sofa. Alright. Together might be a bit of a stretch. We sat at either end of the sofa and barely talked. For what felt like a hundred hours, all I could hear was the sound of us popping our cans open and sipping on our beer while the downpour lashed the trees and bushes outside.

  “Who would’ve thought there would be a fridge full of beer on the mountain, huh?” I said, tapping on my can.

  “Right,” Hamin mumbled.

  When a minute of silence ensued, I glared at him. Hello? Could he not tell that I was trying to start a conversation? We couldn’t exactly ignore each other and keep to ourselves, seeing as we had nothing to do.

  “So do you like beer?” he asked in an anxious voice.

  “What kind of question is that?” I said, then took a large swig.

  His expression stiffened.

  Shit. Though I wanted to defuse the discomfort that surrounded us, apparently the words came out more aggressively than I intended.

  I continued. “I mean, who doesn’t? It sucks when I have to follow a strict meal plan before an important comeback stage or a photoshoot. At the start of this year, I did an alcohol cleanse to get my body fat down to eight percent, and I nearly caved in like twice a week. What’s weird is I usually don’t even drink that often.”

  “As the saying goes, the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest,” he said.

  I chuckled. “Sounds about right. The results were worth it though.”

  “I can see that,” he murmured, pointing at my stomach. When our eyes met, his face flushed scarlet.

  “You think so? The other day, RJ told me I’m already beginning to look soft. What can I say? The pulled pork here is fan-fucking-tastic,” I said.

  “Yeah. The chefs at Idol House whip up a mean pork sandwich,” he replied.

  “RJ thinks those guys must be casting bets on which of us will put on the most weight during their stay on the island.”

  “Why the hell would they do that? Pfft. Trust RJ to assume the worst about everyone. God, he’s an asshole,” Hamin growled.

  While I kept my mouth shut, frankly, I didn’t disagree with him.

  Once he took a large gulp, he added, “And don’t even get me started on RJ’s macho schtick. When he gets angry, he turns into a caricature of himself.”

  “I know what you mean. He loses his cool way too easily. That’s his Achilles heel, though he’d never admit it. Still, there are layers to him, you know. He gets what it means to be loyal. Deep down, he’s not so bad.”

  “Not bad for a bloodthirsty psycho, you mean.”

  Though I tried to laugh off Hamin’s remark, the look in his eyes indicated that he wasn’t joking.

  He went on. “I know you guys assume the worst about me because I suck at everything and snoop around a bit, but come on. Do I deserve a death sentence for it? Earlier today, RJ dragged me aside and tried to throw me off a cliff.”

  “Seriously?” I blurted out. Bloody hell. Was this what RJ meant when he mentioned how he’d disciplined Hamin. Discipline, my ass. Dangling Hamin over the edge of a cliff had not been part of our plan. Oh boy, Sammy and Terry were going to be royally pissed off if they found out about this.

  “Arang, I thought he was going to kill me,” he said.

  I shook my head. “He shouldn’t have done that to you. You know what? I’ll have a word with him the next time I see him again, whenever that turns out to be.”

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  “What?” I asked.

  Hamin shrugged. “I mean, thanks.”

  “Look. Even though I don’t know what your deal i
s, I’m convinced you’re not just an ordinary contestant. But no matter what, you don’t deserve to be treated like that,” I asserted. Since it felt weird to be siding with him, I took another swig in an attempt to clear my thoughts.

  He laughed nervously. “Do you really mean it?”

  As I felt my cheeks heat up, I lowered my gaze.

  I do not have a crush on Hamin.

  “Dude, do I look like I’m joking?” I muttered, closing my eyes.

  I repeat, I most definitely do not have a crush on Hamin. We might be drinking together, but we’re not on a date. Hell, this never would have happened by choice.

  “No,” he said.

  When I peered over at him, he bit his plump bottom lip. I shifted in my seat as I felt a rush of heat in my loins. Far out. What was he doing to me? And why was it working?

  “Call me pathetic if you want, but I haven’t been told anything nice in forever. To be honest, my brother’s the only person in the world who’s ever valued me,” Hamin said, his voice trembling with sorrow.

  “You have a brother?” I asked. In my head, I was counting sheep to get my raging hard-on under control.

  “Well, um, technically he’s just my best friend. We basically grew up together, so I consider him family,” he clarified, peering out the window.

  “I see. You must miss him,” I said.

  “H-How did you know that?” Hamin whispered.

  “Because you’re stuck on Starsaw Island without a phone,” I retorted.

  “Oh, yeah. Right,” he said.

  When he scurried over to the windowsill and sat down, I cursed under my breath. He knew what was going on under my bathrobe.

  “Do you mind if I open the window?” he asked.

  “What do you want to do that for? It’s pouring rain outside,” I complained.

  “I want a better look at the night sky.”

  “Go ahead.”

  After Hamin opened the window, his eyes grew wide, and he let out the purest, most jovial laugh I’d ever heard. For a moment, I forgot about everything that had happened between us. I felt oddly protective of him.

  “Hey, Arang. Come over here,” he called out.

  “Hm?” I murmured.

  “You’ve got to check this out. It’s absolutely stunning,” he said.

  “Are you sure about that? In case you didn’t know, I’ve seen the sky a million times before,” I joked, covering my crotch with my can of beer as I stood up.

  Once I was perched on the windowsill, our bodies merely inches apart, he tugged on my wrist. There’s nothing remotely inappropriate about touching someone’s wrist, right? Apparently not. I had the sudden urge to brush my finger against his lips.

  “I bet you haven’t seen this a million times before,” he said.

  And he was right. Although it was still raining and the sun hadn’t gone down yet, there were stars scattered across the sky, shining brilliantly.

  “I think this is a sun shower. God, the view of the sky from Starsaw Island is spectacular,” he remarked.

  “What can I say? Executive Song’s a smart man. He bought the island for a good reason,” I replied.

  “It makes me appreciate this place even more. You know, before coming here, I’d never lived or so much as traveled outside of Duvil. Hell, I didn’t get to explore the nice parts of the city either. My neighborhood was a shithole, and I went through some truly awful things as a kid. If I could go back in time, I’d tell my seven-year-old self to not lose faith in the world, because there’s more to life than the confines of the cold, overcrowded city. Hearing those words would’ve been a great comfort to me.”

  “That’s sweet,” I murmured as a smile took over my face.

  Truth be told, I knew something didn’t add up. Since I’d replayed his introduction video countless times in the privacy of my own suite, I remembered his story on how he constantly moved from city to city as a child. Yet I had no interest in pointing this out—not to him or anyone else, for that matter. When I gazed into his eyes, I believed what he’d just told me without question. And to me, that was enough.

  As the saying goes, the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

  Chapter 24

  Arang

  “How come there are 999 million pop songs about girlfriends and boyfriends, but none dedicated to the mystique of the night sky? Couldn’t you boy band stars be a little bit more original?” Hamin said with a twinkle in his eye as he stuck his hand out the window.

  “Exactly 999 million songs about lovers? Can I quote you on that?” I teased.

  “It’s an approximation. Just like how astronomers make estimates on the number of stars in our galaxy and shit,” he retorted.

  “So you’re an astronomy buff, huh?” I asked.

  “Nah. I’m a high school dropout.” He took a sip of beer. “I’m too dumb to read astronomy books. I know nothing about the universe.”

  “Hey! Cut the self-deprecation,” I said firmly.

  “That’s rich, coming from you. Let’s not forget, you’re one of the jerks who directly contributed to crushing my self-esteem,” he replied.

  “I wouldn’t have joined in if you hadn’t been doing dirty work for, well, whoever the fuck you’re working for.”

  “Correction. I’m not doing dirty work for anyone.”

  I snorted. “In that case, I only perform songs written, instrumentalized, produced, and digitally edited by me. Can you believe it?”

  “Wow. Respect. It’s a real honor to be in the presence of a creative mastermind,” he sneered.

  “You’re changing the subject,” I said.

  “Yup. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Pray tell, do you even know the meaning behind any of STAR’s song lyrics? Or are you too much of a mindless puppet to care?”

  Although I knew he was taking a dig at my career, for some reason, I was amused by his petulance.

  As I tittered, he hissed, “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because you’re acting like you know more about what happens behind the scenes than me. I’m not going to pretend I’m a lyrical genius. For your information, half the songs on our last album were written by me.” I paused, wondering why I was getting defensive all of a sudden. “None of them were hits though. Frankly, the album would’ve flopped if I had a say in every song.”

  When we locked eyes, we both cracked up.

  “So were your lyrics hopeless attempts at writing the next big hit? Or are you one of those self-assured narcissists who writes whatever the hell they want purely for themselves?” he asked.

  “I suppose I’m the latter. You know how kids have diaries? In middle school, I used to keep a journal where I wrote about my day in the form of a song. I found it relaxing,” I replied.

  “I didn’t think you were that type of guy,” Hamin said, putting his beer down on the floor and grabbing my hand.

  “Dude, what are you doing?” I muttered as he pulled my hand out the window.

  “Since I know you’ve got a weird artsy side now, I figured I might have some luck with convincing you to serenade to the night sky. Now, tell me what you’re going to name the song,” he explained playfully.

  “And how is sticking my hand out in the rain supposed to help with this?” I said, although I kept them there. “Okay. I’ve thought of a title.”

  “What is it?” Hamin murmured, his gentle voice sending shivers through me.

  “‘Sun Storm.’ What do you think?” I asked as I studied the expression on his face.

  “‘Sun Storm’? That’s it?” he responded with a light shove, scrunching his dainty little nose.

  It had been a playful shove, nothing more. Yet I could scarcely hold back my desire to pull him in toward me. What’s more, I knew that if I did so, I wouldn’t be able to resist planting my lips on his. My God, I’d never felt such a strong urge. I had to get out of here.

  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped, my stomach churning as I spat out those words.

  “Arang?” Hamin mumble
d while I slammed the window shut.

  “God, I’m exhausted. I need to go to bed,” I said, then jumped to my feet.

  He gasped.

  Within seconds, my bathrobe slipped down past my shoulders and torso. A bit of it had gotten caught in the window.

  “Great,” I groaned as I adjusted my bathrobe.

  “Your back!” he cried out.

  “What about it?” I grunted.

  “It’s covered in bruises.”

  “I fell over and crashed into a tree earlier, remember? Shit happens. I’ll live.”

  “You should put some ice on it though.” He pointed at the sofa. “Go sit over there.”

  I should’ve ignored him and headed to the bedroom right away, but that’s not what I did. Instead, I went over to the sofa, where I watched him take out the ice tray from the freezer. Once he grabbed a zipper storage bag, he filled it with ice and covered it with a napkin.

  When he joined me on the sofa, I held my breath. As he lowered my robe to expose my raw, swollen skin, I didn’t utter a single word.

  This didn’t have to be weird though, right? Ordinarily, I took pride in taking care of my body and was no stranger to being shirtless in front of others. I’d spent years showering right next to Sammy, Terry, and RJ when we were in a rush. Not to mention the fact that flashing my abs at a photoshoot or on stage had been a part of my job. For some reason though, this situation felt different.

  Hamin pressed his makeshift ice pack against my back, held it in position for five minutes or so, then repositioned it. Although I couldn’t see his hands, I was well aware of how small they were compared to mine. As his dampened fingers brushed against my skin, my body tingled. Fuck. Just one touch was enough to stir me up again.

  “Christ, Hamin.” I swiftly turned around and leaned forward until we were nose to nose. Alright. It was time to put an end to this. I couldn’t handle the tension anymore. “Stop it, okay?”

  “Stop what?” he said.

  “Don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about. I see the way you’ve been looking at me—all coy and seductive. It’s driving me nuts.”

  “I-I didn’t mean to—”

  “Didn’t mean to make me pine over you and question my entire identity? Bullshit. You’re playing with fire here, and you bloody well know it.”