And the worst part?

  I don’t think it’s going to be my last time having to do this.

  Shit.

  Chapter Six

  Ah-Ri

  Jisoo barely said two words to me but was at least nice when I met her at the studio. Apparently, there are plans for all of us to go to the apartment and have our first group dinner tonight.

  Though given the way Ryan’s been treating me since this morning, I’m wondering if it’s a setup so he can push me off the building.

  He’s been completely opposite what he was like earlier at the studio. Everything I do with the choreography is wrong, to the point where he keeps stopping the music.

  “Again.” His chest heaves and sweat pours down his face.

  I take my position next to him and do the eight count. I spin around him, ending up in front of him. I roll my hips. His hands go there, gripping me so softly I’m confused. He spins me around and slides through my legs—it’s the part of the song where he’s rapping. He comes back toward me. I’m in perfect sync with him when he grabs me from behind again and rolls our bodies together.

  I gasp at how lightly he’s holding me.

  Now it’s my turn to stop the music. “I’m not going to break.”

  “What?” He snags a towel and wipes his face. “What the hell do you mean?”

  “The choreography is going to look like shit if you’re afraid to touch me.” I put my hands on my hips. “Look, I know I’m not your favorite person in the world, but I thought we were at least making progress.”

  He sneers and tosses the towel. “You thought wrong.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have trusted those easy smiles in the booth or the teasing; he was just happy that he was getting what he wanted.

  Another body to fill the group, one who doesn’t suck.

  My chest cracks a bit as he ignores me and starts typing away on his phone as if he doesn’t even care about me enough to listen.

  “Whatever,” I grumble. “Just grab me harder. Otherwise, we won’t be able to sell the song or the choreography and it will look weak.”

  He puts his phone away. “Maybe if you stopped messing up—”

  “Shut up, Ryan.” I turn the music back on and wait for him to join me.

  He looks pissed.

  When it’s time for him to grab me, he jerks my body against his so hard I nearly stumble. I can feel every sweaty inch of him.

  Maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had.

  He’s all heated muscle under that loose T-shirt.

  His right hand splays across my stomach as our hips move in sync. He leans in. I see his reflection in the mirror. I’m in great shape, yet I’m out of breath.

  He whispers in my ear. “Is this hard enough for you?”

  Why do his words sound dirty and so exciting?

  “I’ve felt harder,” I say, pulling away from him, but not before he spins me around and kisses me. He tastes like sweat and sin. My lips part, and he grips my hips, pulls me against him, and continues dancing against me.

  I let him. Like an idiot.

  When the music suddenly ends, he breaks away from me and smirks. “Was that convincing enough for you, Ah-Ri?”

  Tears well in my eyes. My emotions are all over the place. I want him to pull me closer and yet I still want to kick him in the dick. “You’re a prick! And I’m too sweet for you. I hope you die from the bitterness of that kiss.”

  “Says the girl who kissed me back.” He towers over me. “Maybe you’re more of a fan than you say.”

  “You’re seriously a jerk.” I shove him away from me. “Practice is over.”

  “Guess I’ll see you at dinner tonight then.”

  I swipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, grab my water bottle and bag, and shove open the door so hard I nearly take someone out on the other side.

  It’s Sookie.

  He smiles, but the smile drops and turns to rage as he looks from my tear-stained cheeks—and most likely swollen mouth—to the non-empty room and a still angry Ryan.

  Like he even has a right to be angry!

  I feel so stupid and used that I immediately want to quit.

  But I’m not a quitter, so I just stand there and try to keep the rest of the tears in.

  “Sorry,” I say to Sookie in Korean. His English is getting way better, and there are so many bets that he actually understands it but that he just gets nervous about messing up when he uses it.

  “Are those tears from him?” he asks.

  “Maybe.” I cross my arms. “But he’s not worth it.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Sookie goes into immediate big-brother mode.

  Only my heart. But I never gave it to him in the first place; the stupid bastard just keeps trying to crack his way in.

  Except today he used kindness instead of a hammer.

  Lucky me.

  Sookie takes a step toward the door. I shake my head. “No.”

  I glance over my shoulder in time to see Ryan watching us. I read rage in his eyes and don’t understand it.

  He, of all people, should know about me and Sookie’s friendship. And yet he looks ready to punch someone he calls a friend.

  Sookie’s fists clench at his sides. His tattoos are on full display under a simple white Gucci shirt and sweats. He’s clearly here to practice, and now I’ve ruined that.

  SWT has a new album dropping later this year, so the last thing Sookie needs is to get into a fight or involve the group in a scandal.

  “Seriously.” I touch his arm.

  “Stay away from him if you can.”

  “Yeah, I’ll try,” I lie. “Now, go practice.”

  He sighs and then bites out a curse that has me laughing. Yeah, squeaky clean my ass.

  He takes off his Supreme hat, plops it on my head, winks, then runs his hands through his light brown hair before walking toward his practice room.

  The rest of the guys must already be there since I don’t hear screaming coming from the direction I’m walking.

  By the time I get back to the dorm to change out of my sweaty clothes, shower, and get ready, I’m so bone-tired that I want to cry, and there’s nobody I can really talk to.

  I’m still at the trainee dorms the label thankfully rented across the street, and while my room connects to a larger communal area, most of the girls I got close with no longer live here.

  A sixteen-year-old moved in last week, which was even more depressing. Basically, I’ve dedicated my life to becoming an idol, have zero friends I can talk to, and am having boy problems.

  And the final cherry on top? If I actually tell any of my friends, it could get out that my new bandmate and I shared an angry kiss, and we’d be screwed before we even begin.

  Besides, while the idea of Sookie punching Ryan in the face makes my heart hurt a little less, it would screw with everything.

  The Netizens would not be pleased.

  Cancel culture is real, and even I don’t hate Ryan that much.

  I glance around my empty bedroom. So many roommates have moved in and out that even the idea of living with Ryan and Haneul sounds nice at this point. Maybe then I could torture Ryan for making me cry and get away with it.

  I touch my lips, shake the exhaustion from my body, put on a simple adidas sweat outfit, and decide last minute to put on the hat that Sookie gave me, even though it doesn’t really match.

  “Well,”—I look at my reflection in the mirror—“here goes my first group dinner at the devil’s house.”

  I mentally put on the armor I’ll need and leave.

  Chapter Seven

  Ryan

  I fucked up.

  I know that.

  My body knows it.

  My brain’s still misfiring. Oh, and I want to choke the life out of Sookie, one of my actual friends, who’s truly one of the nicest guys in the world and would do anything for me.

  Yeah, I want him dead.

  Logically, I know he wasn’t flirting with Ah-Ri. I know they’re friends because I try to change the subject whenever he brings her up. I know they’re close, but then I question if guys and girls can really be friends, and all that self-doubt wasn’t at all helpful when he put his hat on her head and smiled.

  Fucking smiled.

  And saw her tears.

  I’m back at the apartment and feeling like I stole a kiss rather than gave one. I was just so angry. Mad that I was attracted to her. That it was hard to even focus while touching her… And I can only blame myself.

  Shit, if anyone had seen us, it would have been game over.

  I would have been in the CEO’s office on my hands and knees, waiting for him to disband us before we even really debuted.

  Between Haneul and me, I’m the chef, so at least I’m able to distract myself while I make the food.

  I wasn’t sure what the girls would like, so I went for ddukbokki, bulgogi, and since you can never go wrong with it, kimchi. Clearly, I was thinking ahead, so I grabbed the stash from the fridge. The smell of the food hits the apartment hard, and I’m suddenly ravenous.

  I tell myself I’m making the food for me, when really, I just want those damn girls to eat. Haneul said that Jisoo ate a cup of fruit and then drank enough water to float her way to our apartment, only to eat half a protein bar and call it a day.

  If they want to be part of our group, I want them healthy. I shudder thinking back on my trainee days. No joke, Sookie once sent me a text with a chicken meme and said he was going to end it all.

  Panicked because that shit isn’t a joke, I called him. He was in tears because the label said he needed to lose more weight. I was pissed and told SWT’s leader, then showed up at their apartment with homemade food. I quickly realized that it was more Sookie just trying to prove himself, being stressed out, and not admitting it to anyone, including the leader or his manager.

  Ugh. I disgust myself. I shove away from the stove and reach for my phone, pulling it from the charger to send Sookie a quick text.

  Me: I’m sorry. I lost my temper…again.

  Sookie responds right away.

  Sookie: Gae Sae Ggi

  Me: Yes, I’m aware. I’m a jerk, thank you.

  Sookie: Gae Ji Ral

  Me: Are you practicing cursing at people? This is fun.

  His texts stop, so I try again.

  Me: Look, I have no excuse. Well, I mean I do, but…never mind. It’s a long story.

  Sookie: Soju?

  Ah, there he is. At least he still wants to drink with me.

  Me: Yeah, I can’t tonight, but later. And stop cursing at me.

  The doorbell rings. I set my phone down and walk over to open it. It rings again. I pull it open and really wish I wasn’t wearing an apron.

  Or anything.

  Ah-Ri looks adorable in her little adidas outfit. I almost forget to ask her to come in. Her eyebrows arch.

  She’s pretty—without makeup and with it—but something about the pink tone of her lips drives me crazy.

  “Oh, sorry. Come in.” I open the door wider and check out her ass in those sweats when she takes off her shoes, slipping her feet into the slippers we keep by the door for guests.

  She bends over just once.

  And all I can whisper under my breath is, “Sshi-Bal.”

  Fuck.

  “What’s wrong?” Ah-Ri turns around and puts her hands on her hips.

  I close my eyes quickly. “I just got dust in my eyes from…outside.”

  I open one eye.

  Ah-Ri looks behind me. “From the hallway?”

  I rub my eyes and clear my throat. “Yeah, we have really dusty hallways here.”

  “Okayyyyy.” Great, so I’ve made her hate me more, and now she thinks I’m a dumbass besides.

  The doorbell saves me.

  I turn and open the door yet again.

  Jisoo stands there holding her arms in front of her as if she needs a barrier between the world and herself.

  She’s wearing loose black track pants, some worn-looking Nikes, and a big hoodie.

  I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that she’s comfortable enough around us that she doesn’t feel the need to dress up for a group dinner—or, I guess, a meeting. She sneezes the minute she opens her mouth to say hi, and I’m suddenly so thankful for her nervousness because it proves my dust theory.

  She has her hair slicked back into a smooth ponytail, a pink stain on her lips, and looks petrified to talk to me.

  How the hell is this going to work?

  She knows me.

  Has for years.

  She’s shorter than average and always kind of reminded me of the girl next door, that is until you put makeup and a costume on her and toss her up on stage. Then, she turns into a tiger.

  It’s incredible to watch.

  She lost by one vote on a trainee variety show. The group that went on without her ended up disbanding two years later, but still, she’s hungry for it, despite looking like a little lamb that’s ready to run from the wolves.

  “Hey.” Ah-Ri steps around me. “It’s good to finally get to hang out with you outside of practice.” She bows slightly.

  Jisoo’s face lights up. She repeats the sentiment, takes off her shoes, slides her feet into the slippers, and walks into the apartment with Ah-Ri while I follow.

  Slytherin suddenly makes an appearance around the corner. Normally, his black-and-white fur would be standing on end because of strangers.

  This time, the traitor prances right after them and meows.

  I nearly groan when Ah-Ri picks him up. “He’s so cute!”

  Jisoo looks equally entranced.

  The cat gets better attention. Perfect.

  I stop walking, roll my eyes, then look down at both pairs of shoes they left at the door.

  I don’t know why.

  It bothers me how worn they are.

  Jisoo’s have holes, and Ah-Ri’s aren’t much better.

  Guilt assaults me.

  Mainly because I know that while Haneul and I have something to prove to the industry, even if we fail and our pride gets damaged, we still have plenty of money.

  Loads of it, actually. And not just from sponsorships but because our dads are loaded.

  Mine owns a tech company.

  And Haneul’s is a surgeon.

  Haneul wanders into the room, says hi to the girls, and gives me a funny look.

  “The meal is almost done,” I announce while the girls awkwardly go sit on the couch. They’re still talking, though, so that’s good.

  “What?” Haneul stops in front of me. “Why does your face look like that?”

  “They need new shoes.” I nod to the floor. “In fact, I bet you anything, the reason they aren’t eating much is because of their daily stipend. Either eat using all the money or save up to buy a new pair of shoes.”

  He curses.

  So much cursing in the last hour.

  I shrug. “We could always just…tell them it was from the label as a thank you for signing on with the new group.”

  He nods. “Go distract them. I’ll get their sizes and report back.” He stops and hangs his head, then smirks at me. “You’re going to buy them more than shoes, aren’t you?”

  “That wouldn’t be appropriate.” I lie because he knows me too well.

  Yeah, they’re getting more than just shoes.

  I start to really pay attention as I walk over to the girls. They both have clean clothing—perfect, almost—but it’s all really faded.

  I awkwardly try to measure their bodies and then realize I haven’t spoken a word. I’m literally just staring them down as if I’ve lost the ability to have a conversation.

  Naturally, the dumbass assumption is here to stay, isn’t it?

  “So.” I clap my hands.

  Ah-Ri jumps in response.

  Good, maybe I can scare the shit out of her a second time and look like a serial killer while doing it.

  One can only hope.

  I shake my head

  Slytherin stares up at me like I’ve lost it.

  If he hissed, I’d understand.

  “Um.” I cough into my hand. “Sorry, umm—”

  “The dust again?” Ah-Ri offers. “It must have made its way from the hall all the way to the couch.” She grabs a pillow and hits it as if she’s imagining it on my face.

  I smile and look away. “Do you guys want something to drink? Water? Soda? Soju?”

  “I vote that.” Jisoo pipes up. “It’s our first dinner, isn’t it?”

  Her voice is smooth when she talks, just like when she sings. I jump to my feet a little too fast and move toward the fridge, thankful that Jisoo could feel the tension rolling off me in waves.

  I grab a few small glasses and bottles.

  Haneul meets me over by the couch.

  Ah-Ri reaches for a bottle, jerks back, reaches again, and then gives me a look. “Can we please just be casual? Because if I have to pour for you every single time, I might slip in some arsenic.”

  Haneul starts coughing and hitting his chest.

  I smirk. “Deserved that. And, yeah, casual it is.”

  I know she’s referring to the fact that she’s the youngest in the group. Technically, we’re her seniors, but honestly, we’re all equals now.

  “So…” Haneul takes his first shot. “How’s practice going?”

  “Good,” Ah-Ri answers before I have the chance to say anything. “We nailed the song already. And our choreography—”

  “Is hard,” I answer.

  She chokes on her sip.

  Haneul looks between us.

  I truly can’t help it. Part of me wants to break her down to get her attention, to practice with her until she’s slick with sweat and she looks at me for longer than a few seconds. Maybe the whole I’ll take your hate if I can’t have your love is a real thing. Is that what I’m feeling?

  I want her more than any bandmate should want someone he has to work with—especially given the circumstances.

  “Should we eat?” She’s still not looking at me, but I see her stare at my stupid apron. I immediately want to die and crawl into the ground, letting it swallow me whole. Please let it be the one without the laughing cows on it. The moment throws me off guard, and I suddenly can’t remember which one I chose. I look down and then breathe a sigh of relief.