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Minji is going to my school. Minji told Dylan he was my boyfriend even though he’s not. Minji is the one who came to find me.
This has to be a dream. Something happened at that fan gathering and I passed out and everything since is not real.
“Will you pinch me?” I say to the random kid sitting next to me in English.
“Okay!” he answers a little too enthusiastically.
Abby walks between the guy and me. “If anyone is going to pinch her, it will be me.”
I don’t want to look her in the face right now. I don’t even want to be around her.
“Do you really have a boyfriend?” she asks through clenched teeth.
Oh gosh, my face is getting hot again. It’s only been a few minutes since we walked back into the school. News travels fast.
She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Corrine,” she says, all snark. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Like she has an obligation to know. I scoff, facing her head on. “Right, because we’ve been telling each other everything lately.”
At least she has the dignity to back down this time. Her focus goes to the floor and she takes her usual seat in front of me.
I remember now why this can’t be a fantasy. If I were making this up, Abby and I wouldn’t be here. We did have good times in the past. Maybe our conversations were shallow, but we giggled a lot and that wasn’t the worst thing ever.
We became friends in third grade when someone tried to steal my Hanna Montana lunch kit. That thing was the envy of third grade girls everywhere. I didn’t even know Abby, but she rushed after the would-be thief and tackled them right there on the playground. She lost recess for a week. I ended up spending those days inside with her as a thank you. We’ve been inseparable, until now.
I wonder if it’s my fault for hiding K-pop from her. Maybe if I hadn’t been sneaking around spending my nights under my covers with headphones in this wouldn’t be how it is. Then again, she was the one who dumped me publicly.
The rest of class I keep trying to look at Abby without her noticing, wondering how we’ve fallen so far from the third graders who helped each other out in hard times.
When the bell rings Abby runs out before I can say anything else. I gather my stuff, regretting almost everything that’s happened today. There has to be a way to fix things. Not only my relationship with Abby, but what a jerk I am.
I leave the room with my head down so I don’t notice Minji until I’ve walked straight into his chest. It’s firmer than I remember it being.
My gaze travels to his face, and I can’t help but smile, really. He does that to me.
“You okay, there?” he says, turning his head sideways so we can make eye contact.
Pull it together. “Yes,” I say, and then falter. Looking at Minji reminds me of everything I’ve done wrong. I wish I could forget this day and start over. “Actually, I’m not okay, but I will be.”
He raises a brow, and straightens his back. “Anything you want to talk about?”
With him? Heavens no. I wouldn’t want him to think I’m anything less than perfect, like he is. Then again, that’ll take some work considering everything he’s already seen.
I shake my head. “I have cheer practice right now.” That was the last class of the day and I usually spend an hour after school getting the routines down. “But I don’t really want to go.”
“So, skip,” Minji says like I have a choice.
“I’m the captain,” I say, but Minji is looking at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. “I...” My protest dies on my lips.
“I’ll skip with you,” he says. “My manag—uncle can drive us home again.”
No way am I leaving my truck here two days in a row. It was bad enough taking the bus this morning.
“No thanks,” I say, “I’d rather go home alone.”
Minji deflates, hanging his head. “That’s okay. I get it.”
“Unless,” I say, working up a smidgen of courage. “You want to come to my house with me?”
His head lifts, eyes bright. “What was that?”
I clear my throat and try not to mumble this time. “You could come to my house. I don’t know how you’ll get back after that, but—”
“I’ll do it!” he volunteers.
***
Minji is in my truck, Minji is in my truck, Minji is in MY TRUCK.
I’ve tried to think other things, but this thought keeps replaying in my mind until I’m not sure I’ll think anything else again.
I turned on some American pop music to further my charade of being a non K-pop fan, and Minji sings along under his breath. It’s like I’m getting my own private concert.
It’s really not fair that he can sing, and dance, and be this beautiful. It’s calming to listen to him sing. It takes the edge off my nerves and helps me think straight.
“You sing along, too,” he says, nudging me with his elbow.
“Trust me, you do not want to hear that.”
I can tell he’s about to pressure me more, but commercials overtake the music. Thank goodness they saved me this time.
I turn down the volume so I don’t have to listen to the annoying guy yelling at me to buy mattresses, and notice the silence. It was comfortable before, just listening to him sing along, but now it’s weird.
“Why did you do it?” I say after a few moments of awkward.
“Huh?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.
As if he doesn’t know. “You told Dylan you’re my boyfriend, when we’ve only known each other for a day.”
He smirks. “Oh, that.”
Is that all he has to say? So infuriating. “Yeah,” I emphasize. “That.”
He ruffles the back of his hair. “I hope you didn’t take what I said the wrong way.”
Ouch. What way was I supposed to take that? “Okaay?”
He mockingly pounds his knee. “I should be the one asking the questions here. What are you doing to me Corrine Miller-Hayden?”
Now he knows my last name? He must’ve learned that at school. Still, he’s playing around the real issue. I raise my eyebrows, matching my hard expression to his. Two can pretend like nothing’s happening between us.
His expression breaks down after a second, morphing into a laugh. I glance half at him, half at the road, totally confused. He’s leaning over clutching his belly, caught up in his own joke. Real funny the way he pretended not to know what was going on.
“Hey,” I say over the giggles. “I’m just existing, you’re the one who keeps doing the things.”
“You’re right,” he says through his laughter. “I should be asking what’s wrong with me.”
His volume ratchets up, almost to the point of maniacal. I can’t help but let a smile quirk on my own face, even if I don’t get it.
“What is so funny?” I finally ask.
He clutches his side, then dabs under his eyes. I’m laughing now, too, just because he looks so adorable like that. I had no idea he would be this fun to be around. I dreamed it, but I couldn’t imagine this. On screen he always puts on this super tough-guy exterior. I’ve seen glimpses of it here and there, but never around me.
“Honestly,” he says, still laughing. “I think you’ve given me a hero complex.”
I half-snort. “What?”
He takes a few calming breaths before answering. “Yesterday, and today.” Another snicker comes up, but he pushes it down, getting himself under control. “This has to be the most insane I’ve ever been,”
I smirk. “So you’re saying I drive you crazy?”
“Yes,” he says, then shakes his head. “I mean, no.” He sighs, all the laughter dissipating into the air. “When I saw you being targeted like that in the gym... I don’t know... I just had to save you.”
Whoa. Did he really say that? I look out my window, hoping the warmth in my cheeks doesn’t show. “No,” I say, heart racing. “You didn’t.”
When he speaks, his voice is quiet. “Yes, I did. That looked like a pretty serious conversation with your ex-boyfriend. It just felt like the right thing to say to protect you.”
Protect me? I take my eyes off the road, looking his way. He turns his face to me and we make eye contact for a short moment.
A tingle wiggles all the way up my spine. He meant that. I can’t believe he would think that way about me. It’s still too surreal.
“So,” he continues, as I turn my gaze forward. “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to make a move on you or anything. I’m just trying to help out a friend.”
Wow, he might as well slice out my heart and poke at it for fun. Maybe it’s only been two days for him, but it’s been almost a year of me obsessing over how much I like him. I thought celebrities were supposed to be serious jerks. It would be easier if he hated me and didn’t want to spend time with me.
My house is in front of us now and I pull over to the side of the road to park. The first hints of fall are starting to show. This part of Texas never has full-blow leaf colors, but a few trees change here and there and some leaves scatter the ground.
Once we’re stopped, I put my face in my hands and breathe. “This is a pretty crazy friendship, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is,” he says, his voice wobbly.
I notice the music is back on, and I’d rather have our comfortable silence return. I turn the dial up and face my window, wishing I could curl up and die. Why does the thought of friendship hurt this much?
Three days ago, I would’ve killed to say hello to Minji and now I’m getting upset that he called me his friend. How ridiculous.
Usually I love Daya, but the dance beat is the last thing I want right now. I need music I can mope to.
I look up when I hear the volume turning down again.
“I have an idea,” Minji says. “You tell me what’s bothering you, and I tell you something random about me.”
I roll my lips together, trying not to shake my head. No way would I tell him what’s going on with me.
“Or,” he says, “We could play Twenty Questions.”
I scoff, still not getting the courage to really look at him.
“Alright,” he continues when I stay silent. “I’m guessing something happened to you in your last class today?”
It’s not really a question, but he poses it like one. I’m sure this much was obvious, but I play along anyway. “Sure,” I answer, wondering where he’s going with this.
“You’re supposed to answer yes or no,” he says with a smile in his voice.
I sit back in my chair, relaxing a little, but still not able to look at him. “Yes.”
“It has something to do with your ex-boyfriend?”
Again, not a question. “No,” I answer, finally turning my head his way.
He rubs his chin for a minute, a little stubble showing. I try not to drool at his manliness, I can’t believe my mom thought he was feminine. I don’t see it at all.
He raises a finger like he got an idea. “It’s your friend, then.”
If he’s trying to soften me up, he’s doing a good job. “Yes,” I say, knowing the rules of the game state I don’t have to offer any more than that.
He nods like it makes sense. “I know,” he says, doing a little jig in his seat. “You said she was your best friend.”
“Yes,” I answer, even though it’s still not question. I’m counting it anyway.
“She doesn’t want to be your friend anymore?” he guesses.
“No,” I say. It’s more complicated than that. In fact, she wasn’t that awful today at all, I was. Why am I the mean girl?
He furrows his brow, taking a long minute to think. “I got it, she said something rude to you.”
I sigh, picking at a little hole in the fabric of the truck seat. “No.”
“Then,” he says confused. “I don’t know.”
I hold up one hand and one finger. “That’s only six questions, I can’t give you the answer yet.”
If he really wants to know what’s up with me it’s better if he guesses, then I won’t have to admit my guilt.
“Crap,” he says, “You got me.”
I try to hold back my gloat, but I still smile in my own pride.
“If she didn’t say something rude,” he muses aloud, “then she did something rude.”
“Nope.” Thirteen questions to go.
“Someone else did something to both of you.”
“No.” I love that he’s not putting the blame on me at all. He thinks way too highly of me.
“Then,” he says, pausing for thought. He must not have any ideas because he’s quiet for a while. “You said something hurtful to her.” His voice comes out really small like he hopes that’s not the truth.
“Yes,” I say, because I have to face my demons at some point.
He looks at me, eyes wide. “You did something hurtful to her?”
His focus is on me, and I close my eyes to avoid his laser-gaze. It’s probably better that he knows exactly what kind of person I am now so we can end this charade. If he wants to call his uncle to pick him up now, he can.
“Yes,” I say again. “I did.”
He touches my upper arm, only brushing it. “Hey,” he says. “We all do things we regret.”
Does he? He seems perfect in every way.
“I can’t answer yes or no to that,” I respond, not ready to end our game. At least under those rules I don’t have to spill all.
“Okay,” he says, a laugh in his voice. “Fair enough. Then did you do something you regret?”
That’s the spirit. “Yes.”
He’s gone back to thinking, and I take a moment to look him over. I still can’t believe he’s next to me, talking to me like this.
“Because you regret your actions,” he starts, like he’s still thinking it through. “You want to take back the thing you did.”
“Yes,” I say, even though it hurts to say it.
“And,” he continues, “You don’t know how to do it.”
“Yes.”
“Soooo,” he says, the word slow like he’s still trying to understand everything. “You want me to help you fix things.”
“No,” I answer, thinking how ridiculous that would be. It’s my own problem.
“You want to fix it yourself?”
“Yes.” Duh.
“But you don’t know where to start?”
Exactly. I can’t seem to stop myself from being a jerk. “Yes.”
“And you wouldn’t accept my help even if I offered?”
“Yes,” I say again, even though this time I’m not really sure.
He snaps his fingers. “I’ve got the answer. Because you don’t know what to do and you don’t want to ask for my help, you’re completely stuck. So I’m going to help without you asking.”
I hold back my eyeroll, unsure how he came to that conclusion. “Minji—”
“I knew it,” he says clapping his hands. “I was right, and I even had three questions to spare.”
He is so cute when he’s arrogant. “I really don’t want to make you do anything,” I say.
“No, no, no,” he says, puffing out his chest. “I insist. I’m only going to be here a couple of months, and I’d like to do something good while I’m around.”
My shoulders fall and I lean back in my chair wishing I could curl up and die. I forgot he was on a deadline. I wish I could keep him, but then he wouldn’t be a pop star anymore. I’m not sure which is worse.
