Page 15
Story: Wish Upon a K-Star
“You’re too tense. You missed a line in that last segment.”
I should have known he’d bring up the missed line. Why does he always have to needle me? “The lines weren’t important,” I say defensively. “And it didn’t affect the show.”
“Where’s your manager?” He looks around even as his own team hurries over to attend to him, holding up mini fans and dabbing the sweat from his brow.
What is he going to do? Tell on me to Hongjoo?
“Shouldn’t you go get ready for your stage?” I say. I don’t want him standing here nitpicking my performance anymore.
“Are you—”
“Moonster-ssi, you’ve got three minutes for costume change,” one of the stage managers says, tablet in hand. “Hyeri-ssi, just wait here for your next cue.”
“Got it,” I say, taking another sip of water, but not too much. Wouldn’t do to have to pee in the middle of the show.
“Aren’t you at least going to wish me luck?” Minseok asks, pulling off his lapel mic and pack to hand to the assistant hovering behind him.
“Do I have to?” It comes out before I can stop it.
He lifts a brow. I internally cringe. I shouldn’t let my annoyance show so clearly. With my luck someone in the crew will post about how unfriendly I was to Minseok backstage.
“I mean…” I start to say.
“Nah, you’re right.” Minseok grins and winks. “I’m always good. I don’t need luck.”
I roll my eyes at his arrogance. Of course, he gets to act like it’s confidence and charisma. It would be labeled something completely different on me.
I wonder, as I do sometimes, what it would be like to be seen as chic instead of cold. Adorable instead of awkward. Acerbic instead of rude.
There are two performances and a commercial before I have to introduce Minseok’s duet, enough time to relax a moment. I start to sit back when colorful sequins catch my eye.
I recognize the group of girls coming off the stage and my whole body stiffens.
It’s one of the hottest rookie groups, Pink Petal. Two of the girls, Mika and Yunseo, used to be in Helloglow with me. They were both tight with Kim Ana. Which means they were never very friendly to me. Still, I plaster a smile on my face, knowing that usually others play polite in these public situations.
“Hyeri-ssi,” Yunseo says, her smile a little too derisive, but her voice butter smooth. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you at a show again.” Interpretation:You don’t belong here anymore.“I feel like it’s been forever.” Interpretation:We liked it better when you had disappeared.
For a second, my intrusive thoughts take over and I wonder what it would be like if I told her to cut the fake crap. But my training quickly squashes the urge.
“I know, it’s great to see you again,” I say, mirroring her sickly-sweet tone.
“We were just talking to Ana about how this is like a mini reunion,” Mika interjects. Her voice a bit more neutral, but her smile still reserved. “Maybe we should try to get together soon. Catch up?”
I can’t tell if she really means it. A part of me wants to believe she does. That they’re all ready to let the past be the past. But I can see from Yunseo’s face that she does not want to get together.
“That would be nice. But I’m sure you’re all very busy with your promotion schedules,” I say, and see Yunseo nod, like I should definitely not assume they’ll have time for me.
“And I’m sure you’re busy too, with your little drama cameos.”
I feel my cheek muscles waver as I try my hardest to keep my polite smile in place.
She’s just trying to push your buttons, I tell myself.Don’t fall for it.
“At first we were shocked you got into acting,” Yunseo says. “But I heard it wasn’t that hard since your oppa is close to the director, isn’t he?”
Now my smile does fall despite my best efforts, and I bite the insides of my cheeks to hold myself back.
That was barely a rumor when I was cast. Hyejun was an ambassador for a brand when he debuted, and the director of my drama worked on a commercial for that same brand once. But the director and my oppa never overlapped or worked together. It was a tenuous connection at best, but one the antis used for a few days to try to mark me as benefiting from nepotism yet again.
I should have known he’d bring up the missed line. Why does he always have to needle me? “The lines weren’t important,” I say defensively. “And it didn’t affect the show.”
“Where’s your manager?” He looks around even as his own team hurries over to attend to him, holding up mini fans and dabbing the sweat from his brow.
What is he going to do? Tell on me to Hongjoo?
“Shouldn’t you go get ready for your stage?” I say. I don’t want him standing here nitpicking my performance anymore.
“Are you—”
“Moonster-ssi, you’ve got three minutes for costume change,” one of the stage managers says, tablet in hand. “Hyeri-ssi, just wait here for your next cue.”
“Got it,” I say, taking another sip of water, but not too much. Wouldn’t do to have to pee in the middle of the show.
“Aren’t you at least going to wish me luck?” Minseok asks, pulling off his lapel mic and pack to hand to the assistant hovering behind him.
“Do I have to?” It comes out before I can stop it.
He lifts a brow. I internally cringe. I shouldn’t let my annoyance show so clearly. With my luck someone in the crew will post about how unfriendly I was to Minseok backstage.
“I mean…” I start to say.
“Nah, you’re right.” Minseok grins and winks. “I’m always good. I don’t need luck.”
I roll my eyes at his arrogance. Of course, he gets to act like it’s confidence and charisma. It would be labeled something completely different on me.
I wonder, as I do sometimes, what it would be like to be seen as chic instead of cold. Adorable instead of awkward. Acerbic instead of rude.
There are two performances and a commercial before I have to introduce Minseok’s duet, enough time to relax a moment. I start to sit back when colorful sequins catch my eye.
I recognize the group of girls coming off the stage and my whole body stiffens.
It’s one of the hottest rookie groups, Pink Petal. Two of the girls, Mika and Yunseo, used to be in Helloglow with me. They were both tight with Kim Ana. Which means they were never very friendly to me. Still, I plaster a smile on my face, knowing that usually others play polite in these public situations.
“Hyeri-ssi,” Yunseo says, her smile a little too derisive, but her voice butter smooth. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you at a show again.” Interpretation:You don’t belong here anymore.“I feel like it’s been forever.” Interpretation:We liked it better when you had disappeared.
For a second, my intrusive thoughts take over and I wonder what it would be like if I told her to cut the fake crap. But my training quickly squashes the urge.
“I know, it’s great to see you again,” I say, mirroring her sickly-sweet tone.
“We were just talking to Ana about how this is like a mini reunion,” Mika interjects. Her voice a bit more neutral, but her smile still reserved. “Maybe we should try to get together soon. Catch up?”
I can’t tell if she really means it. A part of me wants to believe she does. That they’re all ready to let the past be the past. But I can see from Yunseo’s face that she does not want to get together.
“That would be nice. But I’m sure you’re all very busy with your promotion schedules,” I say, and see Yunseo nod, like I should definitely not assume they’ll have time for me.
“And I’m sure you’re busy too, with your little drama cameos.”
I feel my cheek muscles waver as I try my hardest to keep my polite smile in place.
She’s just trying to push your buttons, I tell myself.Don’t fall for it.
“At first we were shocked you got into acting,” Yunseo says. “But I heard it wasn’t that hard since your oppa is close to the director, isn’t he?”
Now my smile does fall despite my best efforts, and I bite the insides of my cheeks to hold myself back.
That was barely a rumor when I was cast. Hyejun was an ambassador for a brand when he debuted, and the director of my drama worked on a commercial for that same brand once. But the director and my oppa never overlapped or worked together. It was a tenuous connection at best, but one the antis used for a few days to try to mark me as benefiting from nepotism yet again.
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