Gorgeous Gruesome Faces, page 16
The tightness sharpens into a lance, driving inward.
“I shouldn’t have…” She pauses to gather herself. “I think drinking impaired our judgment.”
The sharpness gouges all the way in and begins to twist. It hurts. It really hurts.
“There’s something I haven’t told you about the maiden’s blessings.” The way she says “blessings” is ominous, nothing like the romantic tale she had shared with us before. “Her gifts can charm others, and they can also draw people in. Sometimes, that draw can grow to become a dangerous fixation, an obsession…”
The shock on my face from her putting me in the same category as the stalker who tried to murder her must have derailed her from finishing that sentence.
Is that what she thinks of me?
That I’m the same as that man, that I’m just a mindless, hypnotized fan?
That the feelings I have for her aren’t genuine?
“It’s best that we don’t cross any lines we shouldn’t,” she concludes with a sense of finality. “Our careers are just getting started; it’s not worth the risk. You understand, right?”
I don’t understand.
I don’t understand how she can be so composed as she shoves me backward off a cliff. I don’t understand how she can think that none of it is real, that I was just being pulled in by some supernatural force of attraction when she was right there with me, feeling the same things.
Wasn’t she?
She sounds so certain of her decision. She’s made up her mind. Candie is smarter than me, more mature; she considers situations carefully while I simply barrel ahead. If she thinks having feelings for each other is crossing the line, then it is. If she’s concerned that it will impact our careers, then it probably will. If she believes that what happened was a mistake, then it must have been.
“I…” I can’t think of a single thing to say in defense of myself. “I guess.”
“I’m sorry, Sunny,” she apologizes again. “I don’t want you to feel like anything has changed.” With every word, her voice sounds farther away. “You’re still very important to me.”
But not important enough.
No matter how much I work, how hard I try, it’s not enough. Why am I never enough?
You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.
I believed her blindly. I didn’t realize that the promise didn’t apply if the harm came from Candie herself. As we step out of the room together and walk back to the set in silence, the hurt is swallowed up by a chasm of numbness.
The pain is gone.
I feel nothing.
I’m nothing.
Chapter 21
THEN
Two years ago
“Are you ready? You better sit down for this news,” Ms. Tao announces, smiling at me like she’s got the world’s best surprise behind her back and can’t wait to pull it out.
We’re already sitting on the studio floor, too tired to stand after the grueling rehearsals for our upcoming national tour. I wipe at the sweat on my collarbone with a towel and gulp from my water bottle, expecting to hear that our single just went platinum, or maybe a Sweet Cadence movie is being developed.
“Remember that special cameo I’ve been teasing?” Ms. Tao says. “Jin-hwan Woo’s team just confirmed. He’ll be guest starring in the season finale.”
I shoot up off the floor to screech in Ms. Tao’s face. “You’re not messing with me, are you?!”
“They just signed the contract this morning,” she says. “I knew you’d be especially excited about it.”
“My vision boards really came through in a big way.” I pretend to wipe a fake tear from my eye.
“Wow, I can’t believe you literally manifested this,” Mina mutters in amazement.
“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” Candie comments mildly.
I shoot her a sideways glance. For the most part, things between us have returned to a tenuous “pre-incident” normalcy. As in, Candie pretends that none of it ever happened, and I vehemently avoid thinking about it. But the fact of the matter is that the bitter aftertaste of her complete rejection of me still remains, and every once in a while, it bubbles up and seeps into our interactions.
“It’s not like she has a ring on her finger,” I retort.
Jin-hwan and Brailey are still together, but taking into consideration the average length of celebrity-couple relationships, he might become single any day now.
“You should be mindful of how you interact with him,” Candie says. “You never know how the gossip mags will spin it.”
“Not everything needs to be about our reputation, Candie,” I shoot back. Then, a little vindictively, I ask, “Also, would you prefer a pink or purple bridesmaid dress for my pending nuptials?”
Candie gives me a chilly, unamused stare before turning away. I ignore her attitude and continue to discuss the pros and cons of a spring versus summer wedding with Mina.
She was the one who pushed me away and told me to keep my distance.
And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
* * *
I fully expected a superstar of Jin-hwan’s caliber to show up at the studio with a presidential motorcade, for there to be wall-to-wall security, and fans screaming for him as he dodges them and the paparazzi to make it inside the studio.
But Jin-hwan arrives without an entourage, with only a single assistant and his manager. He’s personable and humble, exactly the same as he appears on-screen. He greets everyone with impeccable manners, not a hint of arrogant celebrity or the famed attitude of his native New York.
Jin-hwan was scouted by an entertainment agency on a visit back to Seoul when he was thirteen. It’s the norm for trainees to toil for years within a company in hopes of being selected to become part of a group, but Jin-hwan debuted quickly and became a solo sensation practically overnight. And, sure, he’s in a highly publicized relationship, but I can’t help but stare at his chiseled face, the same one featured in the posters of him hanging on my bedroom wall, and oh god he caught me looking, he’s coming over—
“It’s so nice to meet you, Sunday.” Jin-hwan is taking my hand to shake. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this conversation, let alone film a whole scene with him.
“Sunny is fine.” I squeeze out what I hope is a casual smile.
Candie’s warning rings in my head. Be mindful of how you interact with him.
I clasp my hand a little tighter around his petulantly.
“My little sister loves you,” Jin-hwan says. “Do you mind if we get a picture so I can send it to her?”
I can’t believe those are real words that came out of his actual mouth.
International superstar Jin-hwan Woo just asked for a picture with me.
“Yes, sure, of course!” I give him three rapid affirmatives in a row in case he changes his mind.
He slides his arm around me and lifts his phone up to the optimal selfie angle, tucking his face close to mine, and casually snaps a few pictures. I’m shocked my legs haven’t collapsed out from under me by this point.
“Here, give me your number, I’ll text you the pictures.”
With slightly trembling fingers, I tap my number into his phone.
On the way home from the studio that night, I check my phone to see that Jin-hwan has followed me on all my accounts and liked several of my posts. Close to midnight, I get a text from him with the pictures of us attached, my smile incredibly forced in all of them.
Jin-hwan’s only on set for two days, and somehow, I manage to get through filming without letting my raging celebrity crush on him make all our scenes unbearably awkward. Or maybe he was just gracious enough not to mention it. By the end of the second day, we’ve shared a few laughs at the craft table and even bonded over the fact that we both love cats but our severe allergies prevent us from owning any. I was prepared for that to be the end of this brief fairy tale. The two of us will be immortalized on film together; my dreams have been thoroughly realized.
I didn’t expect a text from him the very next day telling me what a great time he had on set.
Or for him to text me again the following day to ask if I have any suggestions for donut shops in LA.
Two days later, he texts me again to ask my opinion of the latest Fast & Furious movie, and we end up having an unexpectedly heated debate on the definitive ranking of every movie in the franchise.
Before I realize it, we’re texting nearly every day.
He’s always traveling, so the messages arrive at random intervals, from unpredictable time zones. Every text I receive is a direct hit of adrenaline, sending my heart rate soaring and keeping me light-headed and vibrating for hours at a time. Whenever there is a lull in responses I sink into a mild depression, convinced I’ve said something too stupid to recover from and that he’s blocked my number.
But he always texts back.
He tells me about the events he attends, shares the silly pranks that his roadies play on him, sends me pictures of the massive bowls of noodles he consumes at midnight in defiance of his company-issued diet plan. And when we’re discussing the irony of how we’re both playing high schoolers while missing out on having an actual high school experience, I forget that I’m talking to the object of my obsession. Until I’m engaging in my new nightly ritual of rereading our entire text chain from beginning to end and see his name labeled at the top.
Then a text arrives at 1:03 A.M. on a Tuesday, a message that changes everything.
I read the message over and over until the letters bleed together.
I consider showing the text to Mina for a second opinion. We’ve shared almost all our secrets with each other. The only thing I never told her was what happened between Candie and me.
I read over Jin-hwan’s message again, lingering on the last two words. Miss you.
The fear of rejection strikes me, and I begin to doubt the meaning of his words.
Friends say that to one another, right?
A set visit between industry pals is normal, isn’t it?
I’m reading too much into this, aren’t I?
As much as I’ve tried to ignore her existence, and as Candie so kindly reminded me, Brailey is Jin-hwan’s girlfriend. His beautiful, talented, incredibly famous girlfriend whose fan base is known to be viciously protective and prone to mass coordinated online attacks whenever they believe Brailey’s been slighted.
But when Jin-hwan shows up at the studio and presents me with a box of donuts from the bakery I recommended to him, I invite him back to my trailer without a second thought.
He leans in and kisses me the minute my trailer door swings shut.
When I don’t respond immediately, too stunned by what’s happening, Jin-hwan hesitates, pulling back to give me a questioning look.
“I’m sorry; I thought we—”
I lean up and press my mouth to his, burying his half apology in another kiss.
It doesn’t matter if this makes me the lowest of the low, the worst kind of girl, the kind who other girls write hate songs about, the kind who’ll get dragged through the dirt and never recover if anyone ever finds out about what I’m doing.
He chose me. He wants me. Nothing else matters.
He trails his mouth away from mine and dips his head in against the crook of my neck. He kisses a wet trail upward, then nips at my ear with his teeth.
Several knocks sound on my trailer door. We barely register it in time to step back from each other before the door opens.
Candie leans her head inside. “Break’s over; director’s calling us back,” she says.
“Y-yup, I’ll be right there,” I answer.
She doesn’t ask why we’re alone, why the atmosphere is so tense, why Jin-hwan’s hair is considerably messier than it was when he first arrived, why I’ve suddenly developed a nervous stutter.
But when Candie turns away without another word and shuts the door, the first stab of guilt cuts its way through the rose-tinted layers of delusion as I realize what I’ve done.
* * *
Mina and I are tucked away in a private booth inside an exclusive izakaya restaurant, the table in front of us filled edge to edge with little ceramic dishes—plump gyoza dumplings, glistening sticks of yakitori, golden brown karaage, delicate slices of sashimi.
We’ve ordered way too much food for two people, but it’s our first night off in forever. Candie didn’t come with us; she’s been declining our invitations to hang out again, insisting that she needs to do tour prep, even though we’ve been rehearsing nonstop for months now.
I finally broke down and told Mina everything a few weeks ago. She was shocked at first, but as expected, she accepted all my bad decisions without any condemnation or judgment, and it made me feel a little less like an absolute garbage human being.
“So,” Mina leans in and whispers, even though we’re alone in the booth and the dining room noise is loud enough to drown out anything we say within these walls. “You stayed over at his place on Friday, right? What happened?”
“Well. Things…” I’m suddenly hyperaware of the fact that we’re in public, and that I haven’t fully processed it all yet. Heat spreads across my cheeks, and I finish vaguely, “… happened.”
Mina’s eyes stretch wide. “Did you guys…?”
I fiddle with the curly straw in my drink and nod.
Mina blinks a few times and carefully asks, “How was it? Are you feeling okay?”
Sudden. Was how it was.
Between our packed schedules, Jin-hwan and I have only managed to hang out a few times. And to avoid being photographed together, we only meet in the middle of the night. For as often as I had joked about my romantic future with him, it’s a lot less romantic in reality.
Last Friday he called me at 11:40 P.M. and asked if I could come over to his apartment.
One minute we were watching a movie, the next we were making out, and then he was pulling my shirt up, and I didn’t stop him.
It’s what I wanted. I’m living the ultimate fantasy.
That’s what I told myself the next day when it hurt to pee and there was pink blood in the toilet and no messages on my phone from him. But with Mina’s large expectant eyes pinning me down, I can’t bring myself to lie anymore.
“It happened really fast. I think I was in shock.” The nervous laughter that bursts out of me is unattractive and loud.
I thought Mina would be quick to comfort, or be upset on my behalf, but her answer stuns me a bit.
“Yeah.” Mina stares down at her plate. “My first time wasn’t that great, either.”
I bolt up straight from my slouch. In the two plus years I’ve known her, Mina’s never mentioned anything about having a boyfriend or even a fling.
“Who was it with?” I ask eagerly.
“Just some boy from the same training program I was in,” she answers quickly. “We were breaking the rules, meeting up in secret. After I was cut from the program and came back to the states, he ghosted me.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Minnie.”
“It’s okay. I’m over it now. We were never a real couple, anyway,” Mina says, but I can see the sadness she’s trying to cover up with her reassuring smile. “Sunny, Jin-hwan is going to break up with Brailey, right? You…” Mina bites her lip. “You should make sure that he … really cares about you.”
I nod, prodding at the agedashi tofu, making the bonito flakes jiggle. “Don’t worry. He says things with Brailey have been rocky for a while. They’re mostly keeping it up for appearances and their fans. He’s pretty sure she’s hooking up with the guitarist of her touring band.”
It all sounded perfectly reasonable when he explained it to me.
“He told me he definitely wants to be with me, but he needs to figure out the best way to end things with her so that it won’t blow up in their faces. Did I tell you Brailey just started following me? It’s so awkward; I don’t know what I’m going to do if she starts talking to me.”
I try not to go down the hellish rabbit hole of comparison, but it’s inevitable when I get notifications that Brailey’s liked my posts and end up losing hours scrolling through her entire feed. Or when I see that Jin-hwan’s phone wallpaper is still a picture of them in Paris together. Or when her videos are top trending again, when she’s receiving another award or featured on another magazine, those blond curls and snowy limbs, just constant reminders of how she’s the ideal embodiment of wholesome Americana pop in ways I will never be.
Mina listens quietly, then looks down. Everything I’ve told her seems to finally be sinking in, and she looks conflicted. Worried. But as usual, Mina takes the compassionate path. “… I just don’t want you to get hurt, Sunny.”
Too late for that. And the person who hurt me wasn’t Jin-hwan.
He’s the one who’s taking huge risks to be with me.
Candie would rather sacrifice me to save her own career.
“I know.”
“Have you told Candie about any of this yet?” Mina lobs the question gently across the table.
Mina’s asked me a few times if things were okay between me and Candie; she’s noticed the strain in our exchanges, seen how we are quick to snap at each other now in ways we never were. I told her that it’s just the pre-tour stress getting to us, and me having trouble meeting Candie’s drill-sergeant expectations.
It’s strange, and maybe a little despicable, that the only times I experience flushes of shame and guilt are not the times when I’m kissing someone else’s boyfriend but when I think about how I’m hiding all of it from Candie. It feels like I’m being unfaithful the same way Jin-hwan is, even though Candie has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want to ever “cross that line.”
Candie’s been acting distant again. She’s walled off and withdrawn like she used to be, before we cracked her defenses. She’s taken her self-appointed role as team commander to insufferable new heights, demanding we push ourselves harder, longer, making us watch recordings of our own performances over and over just so she can unearth every opportunity for improvement. Pretty much anything sets her off these days, and I’m tired of getting micromanaged and raked over the coals for tiny mistakes.
