Hello, I Love You (22 page)

He shifts uncomfortably. “You know I’m not good with words, and I feel like I offended you.”

I snort. “That’s awfully discerning of you.”

He continues, either ignoring the gibe or not noticing it. “I need to explain myself. Explain what I meant.”

“There’s no need to explain.”

“Yes, there is.” Determination hardens his eyes. “What I said about being confused is true. There are a lot of things going on in my life, with my family and the band. I don’t need any more distractions.”

“And I’m a distraction?”

“Well … yes.”

Ouch. Maybe I like being an embarrassment better.

“Sometimes,
good
things can be distractions, but they’re still good,” he says. “When I said I like you, I wasn’t lying.” He hesitates, like he’s not sure if he should go on. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked a girl as much as I like you.”

My stomach somersaults.

Jason stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “But I think we should just be friends.”

“Friends?”

Bewilderment swirls inside my head. When did I ever say that we should be anything more than that?

“Yes,” he says. “I can’t date right now.”

“And you think I would ever date you?”

“I—” His cuts himself off. “What?”

I shrug, hoping for nonchalance when I actually feel like my insides are being squeezed. “Kind of egotistical on your part to think that just because you would want to date me, I’d be fine with it.”

“But I—”

“Don’t worry about the kiss,” I interrupt. “It’s already forgotten. And, you know, I don’t really need any distractions, either. I need to focus on my studies right now. Besides, you’re not really my type.”

I consider throwing in a few other stereotypical rejection lines like,
It’s not you, it’s me,
but I couldn’t say them in sincerity because it
is
him. And his gigantic ego.

“Merry Christmas, Jason.”

I leave him standing there, just like girls do in movies. And for the first time, I feel like I could be one of them. My chest may be aching, but I comfort myself with the fact that I’m not letting him get under my skin again.

My feelings for him were nothing more than a silly crush. And now it’s all over.

Chapter Eighteen

“But it’s New Year’s Eve!” Sophie pulls on my arm, trying to force me out of my chair.

I grab on to my desk to keep myself from getting yanked to my feet. “Actually, New Year’s was weeks ago. This is the end of January and, you know, I think I’m still recovering from the travel back to school.”

She rolls her eyes. “We left Seoul almost three weeks ago, and it’s not like we traveled that far. And it’s
Seollal,
the biggest holiday in Korea, and we were invited to the hottest party in Seoul!”

“I thought Korean New Year’s was supposed to be a family thing.”

She scrunches her nose. “Umm … it is. But my mom said it was okay for me to go to the party with Jason instead, so we’re good.” She gives me a serious look. “You can’t ditch me.”

“I have homework.”

“Don’t even start that. If
I’m
not worried about homework, you’re not allowed to be.”

She has a point. I do have homework, but the truth is I don’t want to see Jason. I get twitchy when I think about another entire semester of sitting beside him in class every day.

Sophie digs through the pile of clothes I just washed that’s resting on top of my bed and throws a black dress at my face. “You’re wearing this. Let’s go.”

I groan, knowing I can’t win. But I take my time getting ready, passive-aggressively hoping we’ll be late. When I’ve finished curling my hair and touching up my makeup, Sophie’s standing by the door with both our purses in hand.

We rush downstairs and meet up with all three boys of Eden. I try not to notice Jason wearing the black leather jacket I bought him for Christmas when it was on sale and I wasn’t pissed at him, and instead wrap my arms around my middle and stare down at my fuchsia heels, shivering in the six inches of snow that fell last night.

We jump into the limo and begin the long trek to Seoul. The boys are booked for a big bash downtown that their agency wants them to be seen at; it’s the kind with lots of star power and schmoozing. When Sophie heard her biggest celebrity crush was going to be in attendance, she weaseled her way into the party—dragging me along with her.

We reach downtown around seven thirty. Traffic’s light, since most people are at home with their families, but when we reach the club, there are so many people standing outside I can’t even see the front door.

The limo pulls up to the curb, and I crawl out behind Sophie, only to be met by a hurricane of flashing lights. A roar of screams fills my ears as Sophie links her arm through mine and we follow the boys down a short carpeted path to the front door, lined on either side by fans clamoring to get around the ropes separating them from their favorite stars. It’s not a
red
carpet—it’s white—but I feel like a celebrity all the same.

A bouncer hurries us down the line, and we slip inside the dark club. The cigarette smoke and heat in the air press against my face, which still smarts from the cold outside, and when someone offers to take my coat, I peel it off as fast as I can.

The club’s decorated like a swanky lounge, with plush black chairs and sofas crowded with guys in flashy shirts and girls wearing lots of eyeliner. Arrangements of tall white candles litter the corners, and the bar sits inside a sunken seating area in the middle of the room.

An R&B song plays, giving the entire club a cool, relaxed vibe, but the crowds of well-dressed, beautiful Koreans send my anxiety levels rocketing through the ceiling. I scan the dimly lit room and find zero other Westerners. Or normal-looking people. It’s like the club only lets in gorgeous people—and me. I take a reflexive step closer to Sophie.

Eden’s manager pounces on us as soon as we’re inside, and he shuffles the boys away from the entrance. Tae Hwa grabs Sophie’s hand, and a surge of relief floods me as we follow them through the club.

Yoon Jae falls into step with me.

“Excited?” he asks.

I scratch the back of my neck, offering him a self-conscious laugh. “I don’t really know what to be excited about.”

He grins. “Maybe we can dance again, like we did on Jason and Sophie’s birthday.”

Embarrassment heats my cheeks, but Yoon Jae isn’t the one filling my memories from that night. “You’re a way better dancer than me. I’d just embarrass myself.”

He bumps his shoulder against mine. “You’re a good dancer.”

“Not as good as you.”

He laughs. “Maybe. But I’ve had more practice. My mom got me into lessons when I was seven.”

My eyes bug. “You’ve been dancing that long?”

He nods, flashing me a wry smile. “But it was traditional dancing. From China. Because my mother was Chinese. She didn’t let me do cool dancing until I was ten.”

I laugh with him, and when he puts his hand on my shoulder to guide me around a pair of tipsy girls sloshing their drinks, warmth blossoms underneath my skin. My eyes shoot to Jason, but he’s walking ahead of us, chatting with their manager.

“Sophie told me your dad lives in Beijing,” I say, forcing my attention back to Yoon Jae. “Is that where your mom’s from?”

His smile fades, and he diverts his gaze to the floor. “It is. That’s also where I grew up. My father moved back there after my mother died two years ago.”

“Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry!”

I place my hand on his shoulder, but I catch Jason peering back at us, and my hand slips back into place at my side. The stormy look in his eyes forms a knot in my stomach.

Eden’s manager deposits us in a private room, and before we even have time to order, a round of drinks arrives.

I sit on the long leather couch between Yoon Jae and Sophie, but she and Tae Hwa disappear after only a few minutes. Although Yoon Jae continues to talk to me, the tension in the room rises until I can’t believe he doesn’t notice it. Jason sits in the corner, keeping silent. He stares daggers at Yoon Jae, which isn’t unusual, but then I catch Yoon Jae scowling at Jason. Weird.

“Grace?”

I perk at the sound of my name.

Jason gets to his feet and holds a hand out to me. “Do you want to check out the rest of the club?”

“Uhh…”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond and grabs my wrist before I can process our skin touching. He leads me back out to the main lounge, where the music has switched to a popular American hip-hop track. No one pays us any attention as we make our way through the crowd. They’re all too cool to look starstruck, I guess. Either that or they’re all famous, too, and I just don’t recognize them.

I expect Jason to head straight to the bar, but instead he makes a direct line to a group of people congregating around a table deep in the shadows. He presses into the crowd, and they part with curious glances. I catch a few scowls directed my way from some of the girls but ignore the heat creeping its way up my neck.

At the round booth sit two guys and four girls, but it’s clear who the important person is here. He’s in his late twenties, with shaggy hair that plays across his eyebrows, cheekbones any model would covet, and a shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal a lot of tan, muscled chest. Every woman within a twenty-foot radius has her eyes on him.

Jason says something to the guy in Korean, and he answers with an easy laugh. He then shifts his gaze to me, and I’m frozen under his attention.

“Jason tells me you go to his school,” the guy says, in only lightly accented English. “Do you like Korea?”

“Yes!” I say, because it’s the only word that comes to my embarrassingly dazzled brain.

He smiles, and it’s like the entire club lights up.

“Good,” he says, gesturing to Jason. “I hope you stay here. He needs a girl to make sure he acts like a good boy.”

He shifts back to Korean—presumably, a translation—and the crowd around him twitters with laughter. With a nod, Jason and I are dismissed, and we meld back into the crowd.

Once we’re away from the posse, I grab Jason’s shirt sleeve and hiss in his ear, “Who was that?”

“His stage name is Storm. He’s one of the most famous KPOP singers there is.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Is there anyone else I should introduce you to?”

I stare at him in confusion, trying to process this friendlier side of him. I’m ready to question him about why he’s now decided he wants to introduce me to everyone he knows, when a hand falls on his shoulder and turns him around before I can sputter a word.

Na Na.

She’s wearing a black dress, like me, but the dramatically low neckline on hers makes the plain color seem bold. Her hair’s slicked back into a tight ponytail that looks glamorous paired with her dramatic black eyeliner and cherry red lipstick. She pouts at him and says something in Korean, ignoring me altogether.

I tilt my head toward them in hopes of catching at least a few words I recognize, but the music’s too loud and my nerves are too shot for me to focus on her simpering voice.

She lets her hand slide from his shoulder down his chest before lingering a second too long on his stomach. My eyes bug, and if she wasn’t so gorgeous, I’d say she had to be drunk to feel him up like that in public. As it is, though, she’s probably just used to every male specimen praying for even a look from her.

Na Na flicks her gaze past him to me, and it’s like she focuses every evil thought she’s ever had right at my face. My anger ignites, and choice words rip through my brain. But instead of letting the insults fly, I give her a tight-lipped smile and a mock bow, then turn smoothly and stomp my way back toward the private room.

My mind replays her hand running down Jason’s chest, the way her fingers slipped across the fabric, closer to him than I’ve ever been. And my irritation swells.

“Grace! Wait!”

I keep walking, weaving my way through the crowds, ignoring the stares and outright glares sent my way. My eyes sting, and I blink hard, suddenly wishing to just be back in my bed.

“Grace!”

Jason jumps in front of me with an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t know Na Na was coming tonight.”

I cross my arms. “I don’t care if she’s here or not. I don’t care what you do at all.”

He shakes his head, his hands coming up like he might grab my shoulders, but they fall back to his sides. “I wanted you to meet people tonight,” he says, “to be more a part of my life.”

Something inside me softens, but I ignore it, focusing on the memory of Na Na’s hands pressed against his shirt, the warmth of her palms seeping into his skin. My stomach knots.

“Just forget it,” I say. “I don’t want to meet any of your famous friends or get a better glimpse into your life. I know what fame is like, and I’m not into it.” I steel my voice, preparing myself to hit him hard with it. “I don’t want to be included in this part of your life. I don’t want to be included in any of it.”

His expression freezes, and I leave before he has time to pull his thoughts together. I swallow the burning in my throat, focusing on my steps so I don’t stumble. I press a hand to my stomach, shuffle to the bathroom, and run my wrists underneath the cold water, then wet the back of my neck with it.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, refusing to let myself replay the conversation, refusing to let myself consider how it could have gone differently. I did the right thing. This weird flirtation we have going on needed to come to an end.

I just wish I could believe that.

On my way back to the private room, my mind’s so full of Jason that I almost run into the shadowed figures in the dim hall. A boy has his hands on either side of a girl, pinning her to the wall, which trembles with the bass echoing throughout the entire club. They’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, and heat zips through my veins just seeing them.

I attempt to walk around them inconspicuously, but I bump into the guy and he looks up. A gasp escapes my lips before I can clap a hand over my mouth. Tae Hwa’s eyes get big when he recognizes me, and he jumps away from Sophie, who adjusts the skirt of her dress. She should be more worried about her mussed hair and smudged lipstick.