by Lyla Lee
“My treat, guys!” Lana announces. Before either Tiffany or I can protest, Lana tells the lady at the counter, “Entry for three people, please.”
At the sound of her voice, even more people turn around to stare at us. Some even take out their phones.
“Um, guys,” I whisper. “People are staring at us. And taking pictures.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
LANA GLANCES AWAY FROM THE COUNTER TO look behind us. She, however, doesn’t seem that disturbed. She even smiles sweetly and makes a victory sign with her fingers. “Oh,” she says. “I think they recognize us from You’re My Shining Star.”
“Right.” I want to slap myself on the forehead. Duh. Even though episodes have been airing every Saturday night for three weeks, I’ve never really felt “famous.” Not a lot of people at school watch the show, and nothing major ever really happened besides that one awkward moment in the bathroom after I got tagged on Henry’s Instagram.
But Dad did mention that his friends occasionally ask about me, and Mom stopped talking to me after the first episode aired. I guess I should have known that even though I’m still a nobody to people at school, I’m a someone to viewers of the show.
And now, everyone at this spa—well, at least, all the women—is going to see me naked.
I’m still not sure how I feel about even Lana and Tiffany seeing me without any clothes on. It’s not that I feel uncomfortable in my body or wish my body was different. But I’ve never stripped in front of my friends before. I’m not sure how they’ll react. Lana and Tiffany are even skinnier than my friends at school. And if anyone says anything about my weight . . . well, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to forgive them.
The employee hands us our spa uniforms and locker key bracelets, and I’m feeling super self-conscious as we walk into the women’s locker room. Like I expected, everyone, from really old grandmothers with bent backs to little kids holding hands with their moms, is naked. And almost all the girls around my age are skinny and tiny like Tiffany and Lana.
See, Haneul? I hear Mom’s voice in my head. Those girls are so beautiful! If only you tried a bit harder . . .
My stomach starts churning, and I almost run right out of the locker room. But Lana and Tiffany look really happy and excited, or at least, they do until Lana sees my expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I shake my head. I don’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.
I’m better than this, I think over and over again as I follow Tiffany and Lana to our lockers. But when they begin taking off their clothes, my stomach feels like it’s flipping around in circles.
It’s a total hetero misconception that queer girls shouldn’t be in locker rooms with other girls. Sure, I’m attracted to girls, but that doesn’t mean that I’m a pervert. The only thing I think when Lana and Tiffany take off their clothes is, Wow, they’re so pretty.
Unlike me. The thought escapes before I can stop it. No, I tell myself. No, your body is perfect just the way it is. The fact that you grew up hearing your mom say it’s not doesn’t make it true.
Someone coughs. I’m mortified when I realize I have my eyes squeezed shut. I barely stop myself from groaning out loud. It probably looks like I’m embarrassed to see Lana and Tiffany without their clothes on. Or worse, like I’m perverted in some weird way. I slowly, reluctantly open my eyes to see that the two of them, still very naked, are staring at me with concerned expressions.
“Are you okay, Skye?” Lana asks. “And don’t just nod your head. I know something’s bothering you.”
I blink, and suddenly I’m crying. A rush of embarrassment hits me, but no matter how hard I try to stop, I can’t. What starts as just a little drop or two in the corners of my eyes becomes a huge, uncontrollable flood.
“Oh, Skye!” Lana reaches over to me, but I instinctively back away. I hate crying, especially in front of other people. I’m so mortified that all this is happening. “What’s wrong?”
It’s only then that I realize I’m the only one still wearing clothes in the locker room. If it weren’t for me holding everyone up, we could have gone into the baths by now. It takes all of my energy to stop myself from crying even harder.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, wiping away my tears. “Sorry, I’m keeping you guys waiting. I’ll take off my clothes right away.”
“Well, normally, I love it when girls say that,” Tiffany quips. Lana elbows her in the ribs, and Tiffany continues, “But really, there’s no rush. Is there something wrong? You’re crying. Don’t pretend things are okay when they’re not. It only makes things worse.”
I hesitate, unsure how to even begin to explain what’s going through my head. But since it’s unlikely that Lana and Tiffany are just going to let this one go, I slowly say, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a Korean spa.”
“How come?” Lana asks gently.
I take a deep breath. It’s hard to believe I’m actually telling anyone about this. It’s one of the few things that I never dared to mention even to my school counselor, since Dr. Franklin probably wouldn’t get the concept of a Korean spa in the first place. I’d be lucky if he didn’t spend most of the time asking, But why is everyone naked?
“Every time my mom and I went . . .” I finally say. “Well, she’s not really abusive, like she doesn’t hit me or anything, but she’d always comment on how everyone’s skinnier than me, and her comments about my body just added up. Like, I’m okay with my body. Most of the time. But she always made me feel like I’m not good enough. And because of that, I’m always afraid of meeting new people, period, since I’m scared they’ll be jerks like her.”
“Aw, Skye,” says Lana. She gives me a big hug. I would have never thought someone that small could squeeze so hard. “Well, I mean, that’s another type of abuse, you know? Emotional. It obviously hurt you enough that it still bothers you today.”
“I guess.”
Although Mom’s and my relationship for sure isn’t smooth, I never thought of it as abusive. There are so many forms of Asian-parent tough love, where parents say and do mean things only because they want the best for us. Is all of that “tough love” abusive? What distinguishes tough-love parenting from abuse? After all, Mom did say she’s afraid of what other people might say about me. Even though she is mostly afraid that people might think she’s a bad parent, isn’t the fact that she’s worried about me a good thing?
Even as I think all this, the sick feeling in my stomach after hearing Lana’s words tells me some part of me knows she’s right.
“If you don’t feel comfortable stripping and going into the water with us, that’s totally fine,” Lana adds as she pulls away. “You can just join us upstairs for the saunas.”
It’s tempting, but I know that if I chicken out now, I’ll never get over this.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Just give me a moment and I’ll come join you guys.”
Tiffany puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I give her a small nod. “I’m sure.”
After Tiffany and Lana leave, I slowly reach down to my dress and lift it over my head. I stare at my own reflection in the mirror beside my locker.
“You are beautiful,” I whisper to myself. “Don’t let anyone, not even yourself, tell you any different.”
I take a deep breath and let myself have the time I need to process things. It’s quiet in our corner of the locker room, and now, without Lana and Tiffany, I can finally gather my thoughts and feelings about being here without any outside influences.
Am I really comfortable with all this? I ask myself. Or am I being forced to do something I don’t want to do?
Slowly but steadily, I decide I want to be here. Sure, going to the Korean spa seemed like a horrible idea at first, but maybe I really do owe it to myself to have a fun time at the spa with my friends. I’ve worked so hard for the last couple of months. Don’t I deserve a spa day as much as a thin person?
Part of me also wants to replace all those bad memories of being here with Mom with happy ones. Even though that’s probably not exactly how people’s brains work, I figure it’s better than just having negative memories rolling around in my brain all the time.
Hopefully it’ll be fun, I think.
When I finally come out, Lana tackles me into a big hug.
“Yay, let’s go!” she exclaims. “Spa time!”
Tiffany, who’s apparently the designated towel person, waves our three white bath towels enthusiastically.
And that’s it. Neither Lana nor Tiffany mention what happened earlier again.
The bathhouse part of the spa is built like one of the traditional bathhouses in Korea, with waters of various temperatures and scents. Some waters have herbal health benefits—there’s even a green tea bath—while others are just regular water. After a quick shower, we jump into each one, giggling and thoroughly enjoying ourselves.
All the while, we laugh and talk about the competition, our schools, our friends, basically anything and everything.
“Now that I’m out of the competition, the entirety of my hopes and dreams lies with you, Lana,” jokes Tiffany.
“Wow, so much pressure!” Lana says. “What about Skye? She’s still in this too.”
“Fine,” Tiffany concedes. “You too, Skye. Seriously, if neither of you win, I’m going to give Park Tae-Suk a good talking-to.”
“I’m honestly looking forward to the day that happens,” I say. “Can you get Bora while you’re at it?”
“Oh, believe me. Bora’s been on my list from Day One.”
We all laugh, and bit by bit, I find myself loosening up in the gentle, therapeutic heat of the water. By the time we leave the bathing area, I feel so at ease that I don’t even care about the women who stare at us as we walk by.
“Let’s go up to the jjimjilbang level,” says Tiffany. “Hopefully Henry is still alive.”
It’s only then that I remember we left Henry and Steve to fend for themselves in the men’s section of the spa.
“Oh, shoot.” I quickly open my locker and fish out my phone to find that I have four texts from Henry.
Okay, so, I didn’t get ambushed in the men’s locker room. That’s always good.
And I didn’t see anyone trying to take pics of me! God bless the strict spa rules.
. . . I think no one knows who I am here? Can I just stay here all day? This is amazing. None of these ahjussis and screaming kids care about me.
NEVER MIND.
The texts stop there. I scroll and scroll, as if that’ll somehow make more text messages from Henry pop up. But nope. Nothing. I have no idea if he ever made it out of the men’s locker room.
Lana glances at my phone.
“What the . . .” she says. “Is he okay?”
“I’m not sure, honestly.”
I tap out a quick message to Henry.
Hey, sorry. Are you okay? We’re about to get dressed and head up to the jjimjilbang level now.
Henry doesn’t respond. With each passing second, my heart beats faster and faster until I get this sudden, irrational urge to run to the opposite side of the building and burst into the men’s locker room, all in the name of saving him. I feel really bad, since I’m the reason why he came here in the first place.
But then, I get a new message.
HENRY CHO: Um, so, I tried going out to the jjimjilbang level but then got ambushed by a bunch of people . . . turns out they were just waiting for me to exit the locker room so they could take pics. I’m fine. Steve is here with me.
“Wait,” says Tiffany. “Where did everyone go?”
The women’s locker room, which had been pretty full before we went out into the spa area, is now almost empty. Besides us three, there are only a few old ladies and little kids with their moms walking around.
“Oh no,” I say. “Henry!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
IN A MAD RUSH, THE THREE OF US DRY OFF AND pull on our spa uniforms before running up the stairs to the sauna level. When we get to the third floor, we can barely squeeze past the crowd to exit the staircase.
“Move it, people!” Tiffany yells. “Let us through! I’m pretty sure crowding the stairs like this is a fire hazard! It’s illegal!”
“Where is he?” Lana asks, looking around. “I don’t see him.”
I pull out my phone to text him again. Hey, we’re on the sauna level. Where are you??
Suddenly, Lana says, “I have a pretty good idea where he might be. Look!”
She points at the crowd ahead of us. Everyone has their backs to us, circling around something—or someone.
“Excuse me!” Tiffany shouts, aggressively pushing her way through. The bodies don’t part easily, but Tiffany uses her hands and elbows to shove away everyone who doesn’t budge. Lana follows closely after her, apologizing to everyone who shoots us dirty looks. They make such a cute team that I can’t help but grin as I follow them.
Halfway through the crowd, I catch sight of Steve. He’s standing in front of a door with his arms crossed, looking resolutely ahead like a bouncer at an exclusive nightclub. Except, unlike a bouncer, he isn’t letting anyone through, no matter what they say to him. A few girls try to talk to him, but he ignores them. He stands absolutely still, like a stone giant. I’m not even sure he’s blinking.
When he sees us, though, Steve breaks into a huge smile.
“Skye!” he says, giving me an enthusiastic wave. “Henry’s inside. He’s been waiting for you.”
Steve lets the three of us in and immediately closes the door after us. A few people yell and curse at us, but their voices become muffled the instant the door shuts. We’re in a dimly lit space, so it takes a while for my eyes to adjust. When they do, though, I notice three things: 1) we’re in a private massage room, 2) Henry’s receiving a massage on one of the beds, and 3) he’s shirtless.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly in that order. Probably the reverse.
When he hears us enter, Henry briefly glances up, lifting his head from the circular headrest. The old lady giving him a back rub pauses for a second to give us a sharp look before continuing her work.
“Oh, hey,” he says. “You guys came.”
His voice sounds very mellowed out, probably the most relaxed I’ve ever heard him.
“Seriously?” says Tiffany. “You’re getting a massage, right now?”
Henry slowly gets up from the bed and thanks the old lady in Korean while handing her a few twenties. The lady nods and moves to stand in the back of the room.
“Sorry,” he says. “This was kind of an accident. I was just looking for a place to hide until the people outside calmed down. I ducked in here, which turned out to be a massage room. I felt bad for using it as my hideout, so I asked for a massage.”
Even though I’m vaguely aware of what Henry is saying, most of it goes out the other ear because I’m so freakin’ distracted by the fact that I’m face-to-face with a shirtless Henry Cho. Even though it’s not the first time I’m seeing him without a shirt, it’s the first time I’ve seen him shirtless so . . . directly. I try not to look down from his face. I really do. But his bare chest is pretty hard to ignore. And so are his shoulders.
God, he has such wide, beautiful shoulders, I think, just as Lana catches my eye and grins.
“Okay,” she whispers. “I’m gay and I still think he’s hot, in an aesthetically appealing kind of way. Dang, no wonder this guy’s a model.”
Henry smirks, like he heard what Lana said. I wouldn’t be surprised. Lana’s whisper was closer in volume to a normal person’s shout than an actual whisper. I blush crimson.
Tiffany, though, is unfazed.
“Put a freakin’ shirt on!” she yells at him, throwing a towel at his face. “Our Skye is still really innocent!”
Henry catches it with a laugh. “Okay, okay. But this isn’t the first time Skye’s seen me shirtless.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, and Lana an
d Tiffany gasp simultaneously.
“Skye!” Lana “whispers.” “I thought you said nothing’s going on between the two of you!”
Henry grabs his spa shirt off one of the counters and casually puts it on, as if he can’t tell that I’m giving him total murder eyes right now.
“It was only one other time!” I try to explain myself. “And he was injured, so he was getting treated—I just happened to look—I mean, I didn’t . . .”
When I finally trail off, everyone laughs. Even I end up laughing at my failed attempts to talk.
Without Henry’s shirtless chest in front of me, I can finally think about other things. But even though my brain starts functioning normally again, I have to clear my throat a few times before I can form actually coherent sentences.
“So,” I finally say, addressing Henry. “Are you going to have to stay in here the entire time we’re at the spa?”
He shrugs. “I mean, I could probably move to a different area if you guys want to check out somewhere else. Is there a particular sauna room you want to try?” All of a sudden, he glances past me and adds, “Really subtle, guys. Really subtle.”
I look back to see Lana and Tiffany freeze midtiptoe. Tiffany keeps her back turned toward us, while Lana turns around to give us a wave. “You two have fun! Tiffany and I are going to go room hopping.”
I can’t tell if they’re leaving so they can enjoy the spa together, or if they’re trying to set me and Henry up. Knowing them, it’s probably both.
When we make eye contact, Lana giggles. Yup, definitely both.
“All right,” I say reluctantly. “I’ll catch you guys later?”
“Yeah!” Lana says. “Just text me when you’re ready to go.”
After they leave, I look back to see that Henry’s still staring at me.
