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“What about Ya! Neo!” He suggests the rude informal way of calling someone.

“Why not just Ee Nom,” I say dryly. It’s as close to cursing him out as I can get even without cameras around.

He laughs. “If that’s how you want to address me, I support it. But then I get to call you Riri.”

I roll my eyes. “Why not just yeobo or something?”

He winces. “That’s what my parents call each other.”

“Yeah, because they’re married. Isn’t that what we’re pretending to do here?”

He shakes his head. “What about aein?” He wiggles his eyebrows as he suggests the Korean equivalent of calling me his lover.

I pretend to gag. “Why can’t we just use what we always have?”

“Okay, fine, what about jagi?”

It’s still cringey. I might as well call him babe. But it’s the least offensive of the suggestions. “Fine.”

“Try it.” He leans in, grinning like he’s relishing the discomfort clearly splashed across my face.

“I’ll do it on the show.” I’m too embarrassed to say it right now. It feels weirdly intimate when it’s just the two of us.

“Come on, you should practice. You said you get nervous on the shoots. It’ll help if you try it out now.” Is there something strange in the way he says it? Like he’s trying to pull something over on me? But as I narrow my eyes at him, I can’t tell.

“Fine.” I try to force the word out, but all I get is a stilted “Ja—”

“Come on, jagi-ya,” he practically purrs, his smile widening. “Say it, jaaa-giii.”

I can’t stop my jaw from clenching as I grit out, “Ja…gi.”

“Really? That’s all you can do?”

“Jagi-ya!” I practically shout it, annoyance bursting out of me with the word. “You happy now?” Why does he have to insist on jabbing at me all the time? Can’t he just cut me a break every now and then?

“I’m very happy.” His smile just sparks my anger even more.

I grab my bag to leave. “I hate you.”

“You know we’ll have to reenact this conversation for the show!” he calls after me.

I hate that he’s right and that he’s throwing this in my face right now.

The producers will want us to reenact the pet-name debate for the camera; it’s too good a piece of content not to have for the show. And I hate it. Because I already feel like a fraud, and I know that we’ll create a much friendlier version for the cameras. Just another way of watering down the reality of my life so I’m palatable for the viewers.

“Screw you,jagiya.” Now it’s easy to say the word, as it’s saturated in all the sarcasm and frustration I feel.

“See you on set,” Minseok calls after me cheerfully as I let the door slam behind me.

Minseok stares at the bottle of Pocari Sweat that Hyeri left behind, untouched, unopened. The condensation is dripping down the sides now.

He came to the studio to get some alone time. The dorm is a busy place these days since the other guys don’t have a schedule.

Minseok had to get out of there. But he’d just stepped off the elevator when the two young producers pounced on him, begging him to listen to their tracks. They kept him in the hallway long enough for him to overhear the squawk over the comm device at the small security desk on that floor. And the name Shin Hyeri.

When the guard reported that someone was bothering Hyeri outside the building, Minseok jabbed the call button for the elevators. He wasn’t sure what he was planning to do, but he never had to find out, as the elevator opened to reveal her inside. She looked okay, but he had to be sure, so he got on. Except, the two producers followed him, and he was forced to chase after her to get a moment alone.

He had no intentions of teasing her. But she’s always so intent on acting cold and distant around him that it makes him want to needle her until he gets a reaction.