I stumble through the last few bits of choreography then collapse onto the floor.

  Clapping sounds around me.

  I look over my shoulder.

  It’s him.

  My nemesis.

  Haneul.

  One of the most hated guys in my universe.

  The one who’d told me he’d never kiss someone like me, let alone touch me, after we were both trying out for the same acting gig for a small romantic role in a K-Drama. I obviously didn’t get it, and neither did he, but I still remember the poisonous words at the audition when I was already super nervous to even be there.

  Ever since then, I’ve held a grudge—okay, like a huge grudge, even two years later—for him being such a giant dick to me. I may have shoved him and embarrassed him in front of the other trainees auditioning at the label, which he clearly never forgave me for.

  Rumors spread about our hatred, and while I always felt guilty for reacting that way, he’d hurt my pride, and I figured I’d hurt his. There was no way I would stay in the same room with him, let alone breathe the same air, unless he was on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness. And I had a small suspicion he thought the same about me.

  He’s beautiful, though. Like a poisonous flower from Alice in Wonderland that promises you’ll get everything, only to leave you dead.

  I loathe him and everything he represents in the industry. With his rich parents and good looks, he could do anything.

  Everyone’s obsessed with him. His solo career at the label took off four years ago, and he’s been this perfect angel—devil if you ask me—ever since.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I was practicing. Then I got distracted by you.”

  “You should have said something.” I get to my feet and start walking away.

  “Wait,” he says slowly, calmly, almost in a sexual way…if that’s even possible.

  I look over my shoulder and drink him in. His hair’s a light blond, his eyes blue—most likely contacts. His pink lips are a perfect pout. He’s put on some weight, and it looks good on him; he’s not as skinny as he was for his debut. I notice a small tattoo on his right hand and then one on his left biceps—not that I’m checking him out or anything.

  “What?” I bark. “I’m busy.”

  “That’s funny.” He laughs.

  “What?”

  “You’re not busy. You haven’t even debuted yet.”

  I hate his words. I hate his truth. I hate his stupid Gucci bag!

  I glare. “Is that all?”

  He smiles. “Do you want it to be?”

  I grumble “ass” under my breath and start walking out again, only to have someone shove the door open, revealing his best friend and bandmate, Ryan.

  Two years ago, the label put both solo acts in a group with two other guys to create some sort of supergroup. They’ve been selling like crazy and getting close to SWT’s sales records.

  Rumor has it they had a falling out and are about to disband, but who knows? People like to talk in this industry.

  Shoot.

  God did not prepare me for this day or their lethal beauty.

  Haneul smirks in my direction, his smile wide and sexy. For one brief moment, I forget how much I despise him. How do you hate something so nice to look at? I quickly avert my eyes and sadly realize that I’m now looking at Ryan.

  Shit.

  While Haneul looks light and happy, though still ready to seduce a houseplant, Ryan’s anything but.

  He grew up in Korea, moved to Canada when his parents divorced, and then returned to train.

  Nobody really knows about his background other than he looks like a fallen angel.

  I don’t even want to know how much money he’s made from skincare lines alone. I do know he’s loaded because of his tech-company-owning father and that he has an attitude issue with authority, though every fan denies it since his smile seems so nice.

  I don’t know him well. He rarely talks to people, but his pensive look is enough. He’s Haneul’s best friend and pretty much ignores me when I’m in the room. A year ago, I was doing another audition for the label to possibly make it into a girl group, and while my dancing was completely on point, he was whispering to Haneul the entire time, watching me, throwing me off my game, and smirking. I didn’t think a ton about it until I walked out to grab some water and heard him talking with another one of the guys that was trying out for a group next.

  “She’s pretty,” he said.

  Ryan made a face. “She’s okay, I guess. I was too busy staring at the shit footwork and the fact that she’s bigger than the rest of the girls. They won’t pick her even if she’s the best dancer there. Fans will complain that she stands out when she needs to blend in. It sucks, but it’s the truth. At this point, it’s almost embarrassing. She should just quit.”

  “That’s harsh,” the other trainee said. “Even for you.”

  Ryan took a sip from his water bottle. “Life’s tough, and you know how this industry is. It’s better to just face reality—fuck, now I sound like my dad.”

  They both laughed and turned to me.

  I felt the embarrassment all over. It didn’t help that both Ryan and the other nameless trainee were drop-dead gorgeous and the envy of everyone at the label. A few girls walked by and started whispering.

  I think what I hated the most was that he was right.

  I was all wrong.

  And he’d pointed it out to someone else.

  See? Dicks. Both of them.

  “Ryan.” I barely get his name out before trying to sidestep his angry, inquisitive stare.

  But he suddenly grabs me by the arm and spins me around, backing me against the door. It clicks shut, sealing me in with both bullies.

  We’re nearly chest to chest. Ryan’s taller, so all I can see are his full lips, strong jaw, and long, jet-black hair that caresses his shoulders. I smell his sinful, near-perfect cologne. His white shirt hugs a muscular chest as his fingers dig into both my arms, and he pins me against the door with his body like he has a right to.

  “You ask her?” he says in Korean to Haneul without turning around. Is he watching me? Looking down?

  Slowly, I lift my gaze.

  His brown eyes lock on mine. It’s like a tractor-beam pulling me in. I don’t even think I blink as I stare back, powerless, allowing my body to respond to his warmth, his larger presence.

  His well-known magnetism that’s made him so many fans.

  “Didn’t get a chance,” Haneul replies. “She was doing the usual, running off scared, tail between those long”—he looks down—“pretty little legs thing.”

  Embarrassed, I try to jerk away.

  Ryan holds me firm. “We aren’t done talking business.”

  “What are you?” I laugh nervously. “A Triad crime family instead of an idol group?”

  He flinches at the mafia reference. “We’re doing something different. Under new management. Same label, just…different.”

  “Good for you,” I say slowly. “Can I go now?”

  “Two guys, two girls,” Ryan says quietly. “Us and…”

  “And?” I’m a bit shocked. I only know of one group that’s successfully done that. “Who else do you have? And why does this concern me exactly?”

  They’re both silent.

  Someone knocks on the door, and then more trainees start stopping by, waving at the guys. Yeah, I guess they’re famous, but they’re still a newer group, even though it’s been two years.

  Doesn’t matter, they’re both well known for their solo careers, too, and people want what they have.

  They want what they see—the perfect idol life.

  Which doesn’t exist. But that doesn’t keep people from trying to obtain it. Just like air. It’s there, but you can’t grasp it in your hand for longer than a second before it disappears, and you’re back to square one.

  The fans will most likely bombard both guys and follow them the entire way back to the talent apartments. They’ll have already figured out the guys’ schedules by now, even though they constantly change them to prevent issues with the sasaeng. Those fans are absolutely terrifying and will stop at nothing to stalk their favorite idols.

  Honestly, the biggest question at this point is why I’m getting pinned against the wall by Ryan as Haneul watches.

  “Look…” Ryan releases me, but I still feel his thumbprint on my pulse. The sensation travels through my body like a searing drug that may just kill me dead if I give in to the madness of how good it feels. “We need one more girl.”

  I freeze. Is he saying what I think he is? I almost stop breathing. “And—?”

  “You,” he says finally. “You’re good, you don’t take any bullshit, and we need to move fast. Momentum from—”

  He stops talking.

  Haneul looks away and curses, running his hands through his hair.

  “Is One21 disbanding?” I ask.

  They both pale.

  Holy shit.

  My jaw drops.

  “It’s not what you think, though,” Haneul says, though I can see in his gaze that it isn’t exactly good news. Which means they have a plan and must have had one for way longer than this conversation.

  Ryan jerks his head at Haneul. “Think about it, Ah-Ri. All right? We’ll give you a day.”

  “A day?” I nearly shriek. “And I don’t even have your phone—hey, what are you doing?”

  He walks away and goes to the floor where I left my cell. He grabs it and then hands it to me. “Your passcode?”

  I type it in with numb fingers and hold it out.

  He puts in his number, then smirks and hands it back. Hey, at least he didn’t throw it at my head. I’m almost upset I have no reason to knee him in the balls like last time when he insulted me behind my back.

  I glance at the screen. I have no time to process the name he typed in as his contact. I shake my head. Does the arrogance never end with this guy? What? Like he’s so much better than me? My insecurity screams, “Um, yes, he is, because he has a job and you’re still failing!” Why the hell did he give me his number?

  And why am I still staring at the screen while the practice door opens and closes with a click. It’s like I’m unable to move or believe what just happened.

  I shake my head. His name in my phone isn’t his name at all, but what I call him behind his back, only he added something special.

  It’s Fallen Angel Forever.

  And I wonder if it’s a bad omen.

  Or good.

  Maybe both.

  Crap.

  Chapter Two

  Ah-Ri

  “I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.”

  I don’t mean to say it aloud as I grab a bottle of water, stare at my stupid bank card, and realize I have about ten dollars—or, basically, no money to my name.

  I think about calling my parents, but they said that if I wanted this, I had to do it on my own. And if I failed…

  College. A real job.

  Life.

  As if this isn’t one of the hardest jobs in the world.

  Not only did I study until ten every night to finish school, but I had dance practice on top of voice training.

  Thank God I didn’t need English lessons. Though I was told that if I actually debuted, I’d have to learn Chinese at the very least, which is such an umbrella concept since there are so many dialects.

  Insert panic here.

  Though, at the moment, I’m probably going to end up working in an office—that is, if I can even complete my college exams.

  It’s almost laughable that I would ever be able to get into Seoul University. Maybe I could apply overseas.

  Back in LA?

  I frown, grab my bank card from the ATM, and start stubbornly stomping down the street as it starts to rain.

  I mean, why sunshine when I’m having such a great day?

  I keep thinking about the guys’ proposal.

  Why me, of all people? Someone they don’t even like.

  Why?

  They never explained, which makes me even more nervous. They’ve always despised me, challenged me. And, yes, I’ve screamed their names in extremely unhealthy ways into my pillow on several occasions. I’m sure other girls scream for other reasons.

  I grunt and stop walking. As if they’re really that good-looking.

  I’m completely lying to myself but it does make me feel better.

  I shake my head and try not to focus on the fact that, yes, they are. They’re that good-looking and talented. I frown.

  Why is their group disbanding in the first place? They’ve only been together officially for a short time and have already made a crapton of money.

  Did they get caught up in a scandal? Did the other two members, who nobody’s heard from in the last few months? Normally, the Netizens are all over it. Those internet sleuths are scary good at finding out information, but I haven’t heard anything, and I would like to think I’d be one of the first since I’m a trainee at the same label even if I haven’t debuted yet. However, that doesn’t mean the gossip doesn’t run rampant in this place.

  I look to my right and sigh. Ramyeon from the store it is again.

  I shake off the rain and go inside to pick out my noodles, strolling down the aisle until I come to the brand I like: Shin Raymun.

  Not only does it taste good, but it’s also cheap, and I need cheap right now if I want to eat for the rest of the week.

  I almost snort because someone told me just yesterday that I still need to lose weight, even though my clothes are hanging off my body at this point.

  Apparently, if I look bigger on camera than any of the guys who are training for other groups—even though I’m not competing with them—I’m undesirable. And they’re fighting their own battles with trying to look thin and have the perfect jawline and visuals.

  Really, I think I’m just feeling sorry for myself. It doesn’t help that it completely mystifies me as to why the guys want to add me to their group.

  I grab my ramyeon, add water, the egg, and put it in the microwave. Then I go over to a seat by the window in the small store.

  This isn’t how I saw my glamorous, hard-working life as a trainee going.

  The microwave dings. The noodles are too hot to eat, so I sit there and look at his name in my phone as if this choice will one hundred percent cause me to be just as fallen as Ryan.

  I stare at the screen for a long time, and then my phone rings.

  “Dad.” I answer and smile. It’s so great how supportive he’s been of my dream.

  “Have you seen your phone bill?” he asks before I can say anything else. “You need to start paying for this. You’re nineteen, Ah-Ri. We’ve let you do your thing because we believe in you, but you have to do better. We also got a bill for your credit card. When did you even take a credit card out?”

  I want to say, “When I had no money for food or clothes,” but I keep it in. “I’m sorry. Once I debut, I can pay you back—”

  He’s quiet for way too long. “I love you…you’re my only daughter. But you can’t be that naïve to think that you’ll even get paid right away or be successful. Some idols wait years to get their first check, and you’re going to somehow pay off over a thousand won? With what job? What paycheck?”

  I want to say that I could always illegally sell myself on the streets or become a table girl, but I keep it in. Barely. I have to bite my lip until it hurts so I don’t blurt out something disrespectful or inappropriate.

  I sigh. “I have a new opportunity. It’s a bit different, but…”

  He pauses. “No. I want you to marry for love like I did.”

  I laugh. “Appa! It’s not that!”

  “Then how? What? I’m trying to understand. And why aren’t you back at the dorms yet?”

  I stare into my ramyeon and stir it with my plastic fork. “Thinking about this new opportunity, that’s all.”

  He’s quiet, thinking. Pensive. “Will you be able to debut? Follow your dream?”

  I nod before answering. “Yeah, probably. Yes.”

  I can practically hear his pride and excitement through the phone. “Then you take it. You take it hard, you perform hard, but you take it.”

  “No matter the idols I’m with?” I ask casually.

  “No matter how mean those girls can be.”

  Ha! Guys. But, okay, sure. Perfect.

  “You take your dream with both hands, Ah-Ri.”

  Tears well in my eyes. “I’ll find a way to pay my phone bill.”

  “Take your dreams with both hands, and I’ll pay it for you,” he says softly. “Just don’t say no to an opportunity to do what you love if you have it right in front of you.”

  A tear slides down my cheek. “Okay, I’ll be home soon to have dinner with you guys.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  I stare down at the ramyeon and lie. I’m already insecure enough about my body, and I know he’s doing it to celebrate. Unfortunately, right now, I have to do this alone, as he said. Need to use the only money I have to eat dinner. Both hands, right? Both hands. “Stuffed, actually.”

  “Mom just grilled some meat. Come over now. Don’t be late,” he says before hanging up. The line disconnects. I know I’ll have to take the bus to their house, then sit in front of them and listen to more lecturing, and I hate it. But I am still hungry. Why is this all so hard?

  I wipe my cheeks, then scroll through my phone.

  My fingers tremble as I stop on Fallen Angel Forever.

  I send the text that will seal my destiny.

  My fate.

  My forever.

  And type two simple words.

  I’m. In.

  Chapter Three

  Ryan

  I don’t expect her text.

  I’m so shocked I stare at my phone for a few minutes before taking a deep breath. Or maybe that’s what it feels like to finally breathe a sigh of relief—my first one since all the shit went down a few months ago.

  We’re at the same label and were given some restrictions on what we could do and a timeline, but we’re the label’s first to start in a new direction in K-pop—despite there being one other co-ed group in the industry.