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“Okay!” Minseok says brightly. “Like a competition? Nice.”

He gestures for me to bite into the date.

I’m not sure if I like the idea of this. It feels like a game made to force a couple to kiss. But I have no choice, everyone is watching, waiting for us to begin. So, I put the very end of the date in my mouth, barely gripping the skin with my teeth. I don’t care about getting the seed. I’m more worried about keeping our lips as far apart as possible. Shows love these forced-proximity games. Like when idols are made to do a Pepero kiss or pass thin pieces of paper with their mouths.

I just need to stay as still as possible. Of course, when that’s your goal, suddenly your entire body starts to shake. I feel like I’ll drop the date in a second if Minseok doesn’t hurry up.

But the moment he gets too close, I can feel his breath on my mouth and I lean back.

“Hyeri, stop moving!” Hyejun commands from behind the table.

“I’m trying,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

“Just keep still.” Minseok moves in again, tilting his head to the side. It reminds me of the moment in dramas before a deep kiss.

“Don’t!” I squeak, dropping the date in the process.

“Hyeri-ya!” Minseok whines with a laugh. But he’s still close enough that I can see his pupils are quaking. And I realize he’s nervous too.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say, plucking up another date from the bowl. “I’ll stay still this time.”

I carefully hold the skin of the date with my teeth. And this time, when Minseok approaches, I do my best not to move. But as he leans in, my eyes start to cross trying to keep him in my sights. I want to close my eyes, but I worry it would be read as too brazen. Isn’t that what someone does when they’re expecting to get kissed?

Finally, I can’t handle it anymore. I don’t care how it looks, I can’t watch him moving closer and closer. I squeeze my eyes shut. But without something to focus on, I become dizzy and start to sway

Minseok solves the issue by cupping my cheeks firmly. I grip his wrists, to further steady myself by holding on to something.

Then I feel the pressure of him biting down on the date.

“Steady,” he murmurs, and the low timbre sends shivers down my spine. I hold my breath, trying not to drop the date. But as soon as I feel him tug I let go. I don’t care about winning or getting the seed, I care about this being over so I can catch my breath.

“Minseok wins!” Robbie declares, and I finally open my eyes. He’s still sitting way too close, almost the entire date in his mouth. I hold a measly centimeter of the skin in my teeth.

“Guess I’m the boss.” Minseok winks at me.

“Keep telling yourself that,” I mutter, and then glance at the production crew.

A few hide smiles and I know that was definitely caught on the mics. I can’t help but look at my mother, who is shaking her head in disapproval.

After the shoot ends, I’m whisked away to change into normal clothing. I’m grateful to be out of the heavy wedding hanbok, but I’m anxious the entire time I’m changing. I know my mom will want to talk. And this is the first time we’ve spoken since I told her I lost theIdol Academyrole.

I leave the changing room, moving toward the back of the venue where the vans and cars are parked.

Beside them sits a coffee truck. The kind friends and family send to sets to cheer on the production. This one has my name and face on the banner:Shin Hyeri Fighting! Cheering for my princess! From your abeoji.

I’ve never had someone send me a coffee truck before.

The crew is already gathered around it, happily ordering coffee drinks. It will definitely buy me a lot of goodwill on set. I remember when I first got ontoCiPro, my mom insisted I bring these expensive vitamin drinks for the crew. She claimed making good with the staff would go a long way. But we were forbidden from bringing outside drinks or food onto set. I wonder if they’d have made a difference. Would they have swayed the staff not to air my most embarrassing on-camera moments?

Hyejun slings an arm around my shoulder. “How much you wanna bet Eomma organized this for good family PR?”

I shrug nonchalantly, because I don’t want Hyejun to pick up on my disappointment at the thought. For one brief second, I thought maybe my dad had really put in the effort. But Hyejun’s right, it’s much more likely Mom did this and slapped our dad’s name on it.

“At least everyone’s happy.”

I stiffen when I hear the telltale click of Mom’s high heels approaching. “Hyeri, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She’s talking in her clipped, no-nonsense voice. She’s definitely still upset at me.

“Sorry, I was just noticing Dad’s coffee truck. It’s nice, isn’t it?” I’m hoping the sight of the happy banners might change her mood.