Page 18 of ASAP

Ajumma stands in the doorway, holding a spatula. “Why are you just standing there? Come inside!” She presses the door back, gesturing for us to enter.

“Ajumma.” I take a deep breath. “This is—”

“Nathaniel Lee! I am an XOXO fan, but you are my favorite.”

I gape at her.

“You look like my first love. Or maybe it’s that you look like someone who I might have loved when I was young. What do you think, Sori-yah? Doesn’t he look like someone’s first love?”

My heart’s already racing with what almost happened outside. “First loves are called that for a reason,” I say, needing to distance myself from that moment. “Because there are second, third, and fourth loves after.”

I peek at Nathaniel to find him watching me. “You can fall in love again,” he says to Ajumma, though his gaze never leaves me. “Let me be your second, third, and fourth love.” I feel my heart tumble in my chest.

“Don’t be silly.” Ajumma waves her hand in the air. “You’d be my seventh.”

“Ajumma,” I say, slipping off my shoes and gesturing her to the side.

While Nathaniel takes off his sneakers in the foyer, I explain to her that he’s only staying for the weeks XOXO is on hiatus, and that it needs to be kept a secret from my mother.

“It’s because she wouldn’t understand.” This will be the hardest part, getting Ajumma to agree to lie to my mother, as she’s always been nothing but loyal to her.

“Oh yes,” Ajumma says, nodding her head in a vigorous motion. “Your mother can be unreasonable in that way. I think it’s best she doesn’t know.” She catches my eye and gives me an exaggerated wink.

For the second time tonight, I gape at her. “Ajumma, I don’t—that is, Nathaniel and I...”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She motions me into the dining room. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Just know I’m cheering you on. Fighting!”

“Ajumma!” But she’s already hurrying out of the foyer.

“What was that about?” Nathaniel asks from behind me, and I jump.

“N-nothing. Come on, let’s eat.”

At the long dining table, Ajumma sets out a second place setting for Nathaniel next to mine. Then, like a chef on a culinary show, she uncovers each dish with a flourish.

If Nathaniel hadn’t already won over Ajumma with his apparent likeness to her first love, he has by the end of the meal, when he enthusiastically devours everything set in front of him, including two servings of rice.

Afterward, Ajumma shoos us from the dining room so that Nathaniel can settle in upstairs.

“It might still be too early to open the pool,” I say, as we make our way to the second floor, “but there’s exercise equipment in the gym you can use. The code for the gate is 450928*.

“The last four digits are your birthday,” Nathaniel says slowly, “but what are the first two?”

“The year we won our independence.” When he doesn’t respond, I glance at him to see he wears an odd expression on his face. “What?”

“You phrased it as ‘our independence.’”

“Of course, I did.” I roll my eyes. “You’re American, but you’re also Korean.” I say this adamantly.

The next time I look back at him, there’s a small smile on his face.

I stop outside his door. “You’re allowed to go anywhere in the house. Except for my mother’s room. She hasn’t been back to the house in over a month, and I don’t think she’ll come back anytime soon.” She was already busy, and that’s not going to stop in the coming weeks.

Nathaniel glances down the hall, then returns his gaze to me. I wonder if we’ll talk about what happened outside the house, before Ajumma interrupted us. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.

I panic a little at the thought. If that happens, it will put a stop to everything.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Nathaniel says, opening his bedroom door.

Relief sweeps through me and my heart fills with warmth at his words. They’re like a promise.

“Oh, and one last thing.” He turns back. “I found a slight flaw with one of your rules.”

I narrow my eyes, sensing that he’s about to say something outrageous.

“The rule about sleeping with a shirt on.” He smirks. “How will you know if I break it?”

Clearly pleased with himself, he strolls into his room.

The next morning, I wake with a start. With yesterday fresh in my mind, I leap from the bed. A Pikachu flies and hits the door as I slow down in time to quietly open it, peeking my head through. Across the hall, Nathaniel’s door is open. My stomach drops only to see his hoodie from the night before hanging from the back of a chair. He’s still here, just... awake. Was he always an early riser?

I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face, then change from pajamas into sweats, gathering my hair behind my head and pinning it with a claw. I rush down the stairs, stopping short when I see Nathaniel seated at the dining room table. He’s wearing a zip-up hoodie over a white shirt, his hair tousled from sleep. He has one leg drawn up on the chair, his elbow balanced on his knee as he stares with concentration at the screen of his laptop. Headphones cover his ears, but he looks up briefly at my arrival, lifting his hand in a wave, before returning his attention to the screen.

I remember in New York he’d said he was taking a class. Curious, I walk around the table. He’s sitting toward its center, with his back to the kitchen. My eyes find the screen only to see that it’s split into dozens of screens, though the speaker is highlighted. I quickly dart to the side, almost tripping over my house slippers.

Nathaniel laughs, moving his headphones to his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to be on camera.” I keep my voice to a whisper.

“It’s off,” he says, amused, “and I’m muted.” He reaches out to tug my sleeve until I’m standing next to him. “That’s my professor,” he says, pointing to the spotlighted box, which shows a middle-aged Caucasian woman. “And these are my classmates.” He clicks an icon and more boxes appear, though most have their cameras turned off, like Nathaniel’s.

“Nathaniel Lee” is displayed at the bottommost corner of his box. “You use your real name?” I ask.

“Why not? There are probably dozens of Nathaniel Lees.”

He takes off his headphones completely. Grabbing his empty mug from the table, he pushes back his chair and stands.

“Don’t you need to pay attention?” I ask, following him into the kitchen.

“She’s going over some points from the last lecture.” He places his mug on the cup tray of the coffee machine. It’s a new model that my mother purchased before she left. “How did you sleep last night?”

I don’t want to tell him that I woke up a few times in the middle of the night, anxious that he’d be gone in the morning. “I slept fine.”

He raises a brow at my answer but doesn’t question me.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m using this.” He nods to the machine.

“I said you could, last night. And no one uses it.” My mother did, one time, but then she’d purchased a newer model for her office.

He shifts open the drawer of colorful pods. “Want to pick a flavor for me?”

“Yes.”

I select a pod and hold it up.

“Pink, I should have known.”

He presses a button on the machine, flipping open a cover. I slot the pod in place, then click the button to begin the brewing process.

Nathaniel leans back against the counter. “Ajumma was here earlier, but she went outside to the garden. I think that’s what she said. She asked me if I wanted breakfast, but I said I’d wait for you.”

“I’m glad. I... wanted to have breakfast together.”

I don’t know whether it’s because I’m in my house, but I’m being more honest with him than normal, and with myself. My cheeks flush. I look up, expecting to see his amused expression, but he’s looking away, his own cheeks bright with color.

“We’ll both be busy during the day,” he says, “but let’s try to have breakfast and dinner together.”

“Okay.”

His coffee finishes brewing, and we return to the dining room.

“I have to get back to the lecture...”

“Don’t worry about me,” I say quickly.

As he settles back in his seat, I head upstairs to my bedroom, gathering stationery supplies from the drawers in my desk. Returning downstairs, I take the seat directly across from him, laying out my materials. Others find comfort in meditation or exercise; I find comfort in aesthetically pleasing stationery. I see him smile as I place down my We Bare Bears sticky notepads and multicolored gel pens, but he doesn’t say anything, his focus returning to the lecture.

I select a notepad and uncap my pen, but my gaze keeps straying to Nathaniel. The way he concentrates is very... attractive. He has a notebook of his own—a very plain black one—and with his plain black pen, he’s taking notes in English, in cursive;his penmanship is surprisingly neat.

He looks up, a question in his gaze. I quickly duck my head.

I try to concentrate on my task. Secretary Park sent over Hyemi’s schedule, which I printed out the night before. I take notes on the sticky pads and affix them to the page, jotting down ideas where I can step in to help Hyemi. She’s moving into a dorm with the other ASAP members tomorrow. It’ll be a big change from living alone with just her father to sharing a living space with five other girls. Besides working on her choreography, I’ll want to make sure she’s coping well, mentally and emotionally.

A half hour passes as Nathaniel and I work on our individual tasks, and though we’re not interacting besides the occasional moments when our eyes meet, it’s one of the best mornings I can remember having in a long time.

Ajumma returns from the garden, and we have breakfast, all three of us, with Nathaniel coaxing Ajumma to sit and enjoy a slice of toast with blackberry jam.

Afterward, he walks me to the bus stop, which is just past the convenience store. Sliding my duffle bag from his shoulder, he hands it to me. KS is sending a car to pick him up. He gave an address of one of my neighbors around the block. The KS people don’t know where he actually lives, so they won’t ask questions, nor will they care, as they’re used to protecting idols’ private lives.

“I won’t have my phone on me,” Nathaniel says. He’s changed out of his sweats into a black shirt. “KS is strict with devices that can take video, and I’d rather just leave it behind instead of having it confiscated. But I’ll be back at the house tonight.”

“Okay,” I say, as the bus pulls up to the stop. “Thanks for letting me know.”

He waves goodbye as I step onto the bus. I tap my card to the electronic reader by the driver, then hurry to a window seat in time to wave to him back.

The ASAP members have already been practicing for five hours by the time I arrive, and they’re not alone.

“Eomeoni,” I say, surprised to see my mother standing against the wall. Though she’s the CEO of Joah, she rarely visits the practice rooms. My chest tightens when I see the dark circles beneath her eyes. It’s only been a few days since I saw her, but they’ve gotten worse. I’d told Nathaniel he could stay for the rest of his hiatus, but if my mother needs to rest, then I’d rather she came home.

“Sori-yah, is that you?” A woman in her forties with wavy hair pokes her head from behind my mother. I recognize her immediately—Ryu Jin-rang, one of the most talented creative directors in the business.

She was the mind behind XOXO, as well as other popular boy groups, like 95D. If she’s taking on ASAP, then this will be her first girl group, and knowing her reputation, she’ll be determined to make them as big, or even bigger, than her boy groups.

I bow to both Director Ryu and my mother.

“Min Hee-yah,” Director Ryu says casually—she might be a formidable presence in the industry, but she’s also a close friend of my mother’s—“was your daughter always this pretty?”

“You saw me only a few months ago,” I say, “at my father’s charity event at the golf course, remember?”

“Ah, yes.” She looks at my mother, then up at the ceiling. As my mother’s close friend, she also has strong opinions on my father. “Your mother told me how you’re the one helping Woo Hyemi,” she says. “I feel more confident knowing you’re lending her your support.”

We return our attention to the members, who are working with the choreographer to prepare for their music video shoot over the weekend. With the six of them, their screen times will be varied, with Hyemi having the least amount of time due to her having the least lines—nine seconds total of the two minutes and forty-eight second song. But even with less lines, and placement at the back of the formation, she’s clearly making more mistakes than the others. When Hyemi messes up so significantly that the entire group has to stop the choreography, two of the members shoot Hyemi frustrated looks.

“What do you think of the concept, Sori?” Director Ryu asks, distracting me.

I tear my gaze away from Hyemi to consider her question. According to the document Secretary Park sent over, the concept for ASAP’s debut is young women breaking into workplaces traditionally dominated by men in Korean society. The title track, “Wake Up,” is an upbeat pop melody with romantic lyrics, but that’s beside the point.

“I like it a lot,” I say. “It’s empowering and sends a good message.”

Director Ryu nods. “I wanted each member to stand out as an individual, so my team and I asked the girls about their interests so that we could build each of their stories, whether they’re sporty or fun-loving or have a 4D personality. We want to be as authentic to their natures as possible. When you enjoy what you’re doing, the joy is expressed in the music and the performances. Woo Hyemi hasn’t yet expressed what aspects of her personality or interests she’d like to focus on, so if you could help her with discovering that, it would be helpful. Right now, she’s unique in that she’s the youngest; the maknae of a group is always treasured by the fandom.”

“I’ll speak more with Hyemi,” I say and put it on my mental list that I’d drawn up that morning.

“Hyemi’s talented, but she’s also new to this world. The four girls from Dream Music have been working toward this dream for two years, and Sun Ye for even longer. It’s not just that Hyemi needs to learn the choreography, but does she have the stamina to endure the long hours of practice? Does she have the mental fortitude? Our standards are exacting but necessary for a reason. We want to ensure these girls have not only a successful career but also a healthy one, a long one. You have a short time to determine whether she’s ready to walk that difficult path.”

My mother interrupts. “We have a meeting with the director of the music video. Will you excuse us, Sori?”

As they leave the room, I realize my mother and I haven’t yet scheduled our lunch together. She’ll only get busier and busier, so I need to schedule it now. I follow my mother and Director Ryu out of the room. They’re not immediately outside the door, so I head toward the hallway.

“Min Hee-yah.” I’m stopped by the sound of Director Ryu’s voice. “You need to rest.”

“I can’t stop now.” They’re standing in the hall, speaking low so that their voices don’t carry. “Not when everything’s on the line. The overseas investors are close to signing deals with Joah. Once CEO Woo signs through his investment, I can finally breathe—”

“Why don’t you ask Assemblyman Min for his shares of the company? He owes you that, for what you’ve endured from that awful family. And for raising Sori so well. You’ve done a wonderful job with her.”

“It’s impossible,” my mother says, mumbling words that I don’t catch.

As the lead investor in Joah when my mother first started the company, my father owns the majority of its shares. My mother would have otherwise divorced my father years ago. But in the eyes of the public, he’s a family man with a loving wife and daughter—a divorce would irrevocably damage that image. Those shares are the only thing keeping it from falling apart.

“Sori? What are you doing here?”

I startle. Director Ryu stands in the doorway, alone.

“I was looking for my mother. I wanted to ask her...” The reason why I was searching for my mother seems so small compared to the innumerable important responsibilities taking up her time. “To lunch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. She already left for her meeting. I decided to stay back and speak with the choreographer. Maybe you can call her?” It seems a reasonable enough suggestion, except that my mother and I don’t contact each other except through Secretary Park.

“Is the company really in that much trouble?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

Director Ryu’s expression turns thoughtful. “Did you know I’ve known your mother for almost twenty years now? Ever since she was an idol and I was a production assistant. When her dream of being an idol ended prematurely, Joah became her new dream. And I’m so proud of her for making it a reality. She’s worked so hard.

“Your mother was the inspiration for ASAP’s debut concept. I’ll never tell her that. She’d be horrified if she knew. A young woman breaking into an industry where most, if not all, of the top CEOs are men? She inspires a lot of young women; she inspires me.”

“And me,” I whisper. Even if work has called her away more in the past years, and we haven’t spent as much time together, I’ve always been proud my mother is Seo Min Hee.

“Regardless of whether Joah is facing difficulties at the moment, it’s not something you need to concern yourself with. You’re young. Let the adults do all the worrying.”

Director Ryu doesn’t know me well enough to know I can’t help worrying.

“I’ll admit, when I got the list of ASAP members, I was surprised when I saw your name wasn’t on it. That is, until your mother told me about your decision. I’m proud of you, Sori. Not every person who’s chosen a career path can make it to the end, but it’s just as difficult to change your path once you’ve decided it’s not for you anymore.”

I nod at Director Ryu’s words, but I’m not really listening. So much is depending on Hyemi’s successful debut and her father’s resulting investment. I can’t fulfill my mother’s dream of being an idol, the one she gave up for me, but I can protect her dream of Joah.

When we return to the room, the members have split up to continue with their one-on-one training, a few leaving to work with the vocal coach, while others stay behind to practice in front of the mirror. I make Hyemi run through the entirety of the choreography. Then I ask her to do it again. And again. I change into sweats and dance the other members’ parts, so that she knows where’s she’s supposed to be positioned at all times.

We continue practicing long after the others have left. And it’s not until the maintenance workers shut off the studio lights that I realize I’ve kept her longer than I should have.

“I’m sorry, Hyemi-yah. I’ve pushed you hard today, haven’t I?”

“No, Seonbae.” She shakes her head, her brow glistening with sweat. “I’m so grateful for you. I want to work hard. After all, this is my dream.”

I’m feeling the heaviness and exhaustion of the day on the long bus ride home. It doesn’t diminish, not until I spot Nathaniel waiting for me at the same table outside the convenience store. I join him, and together, we walk up the hill toward home.