Page 35 of Wish Upon a K-Star

M y family didn’t really spend lots of quality time together. Even before Oppa and I came to Korea as trainees.

My dad is what people used to call a workaholic. And my mom overcompensated by spending all the money he earned to show off a flashy, luxury lifestyle to all our neighbors and friends. I suppose that’s why she was so excited when Oppa and I were scouted. It was another thing to brag about.

Since I came to Korea, I don’t think I remember a full day I spent with my whole family.

But I do have one perfect family memory. It was a Saturday when I was in second grade. My dad decided to pack us all into the car and drive to the beach for the day. My mom had grumbled about it, but even at eight I could tell she was in a good mood.

We played games in the ocean and ate sandwiches. And just goofed around all day, getting sand everywhere. I was so exhausted by the end that I fell asleep in the car. I woke up at one point and saw my parents holding hands as my dad drove us home. It was the perfect day.

Every time I saw the ocean after, I’d remember that day. But at some point, it stopped being a happy reminder. And instead became proof that perfect days didn’t exist for us anymore.

So, of course, OCM decided that the ideal shooting location for our faux-honeymoon episodes was the beach.

Now here I am, walking on the sand with Minseok. We ate at a well-known seafood restaurant, the kind with dozens of photos of other celebrities or shows that have graced it before. We took a picture with the owner and provided our autographs to add to the wall.

Minseok was his usual charismatic self the entire time. You’d never know that he and I had a fight. I guess I should be grateful. But it just makes me uneasy. Is he really not mad at me? Or is he pretending for the show?

After, Minseok suggests we get ice cream and walk along the beach.

I agree, because it’s part of the schedule for the shoot and the brand of ice-cream cone we eat is part of a product-placement agreement. Even so, I don’t love the idea of walking along the beach in my outfit. They have me in a dress that hits just below my knees. It’s gossamer light in a sweet peach color. But it’s windy by the water today, an issue when your dress is designed to be worn in cute city cafés and not beach excursions.

My fears are proven right as I have to juggle between holding my ice cream and holding down my skirt.

Minseok, oblivious to my struggle, veers toward the water, dipping his feet into the ocean.

I stay put up the beach. My dress is so thin that if it gets wet, it’ll become completely see-through.

My mom’s voice echoes in my head reminding me that Bimbos don’t keep fans.

Minseok glances back and rolls his eyes at me. “Come on, what’s the point of coming to the beach if you don’t put your feet in the water?”

“I’m still eating my ice cream,” I say, holding up the cone as proof. Though, I’ve barely even licked it. With my diet, it’s more like a prop at this point. Such a waste.

He jogs back. His feet are caked in sand now and all I can think is that it’s going to track everywhere.

When he grabs my hand, I reluctantly let him lead me to the very edge of the water. It would be too hard to resist him and keep hold of my ice cream at the same time. The tide is just coming in and it splashes against my calves. I let out an involuntary yelp of distress and yank my arm free to skitter back.

“Oh, come on, jagi-yah.” Minseok laughs and I’m glad for the wind blowing my hair in my face. It hides the fact that I’m still so flustered whenever he calls me that. He’s waded back into the water, almost knee deep. Though he’s rolled up his pants, they’re still getting soaked.

“I can’t go any deeper. I can’t swim,” I say.

He looks skeptical. “That can’t be true. What kid from Southern California can’t swim?”

“This one,” I insist. And it’s true. My mom enrolled me in classes, but after I freaked out during the first lesson, she never brought me back. And I just never learned how.

Minseok gets a gleam in his eyes, one that tells me nothing good can come from what he’s about to do. I start to back away, but it’s too slow. He races forward, swooping his hands through the water to splash it on me. I let out an unladylike scream and temporarily forget I’m holding an ice-cream cone as I lift my hands to shield. The top scoop of vanilla plops right into my chest.

“Oops.” There’s laughter in Minseok’s voice. I see it in his eyes, and he folds his lips together to hide a smile. “You okay?”

I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. It wouldn’t do to lose my composure. I’ve learned by now that Minseok doesn’t care when I’m shouting mad. My revenge will have to take a different form.

“Hyeri?” Minseok says my name hesitantly.

I open my eyes and force a nonchalant smile even as I feel cold ice cream drip into my bra. “I’m okay.”

Minseok narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Really?”

I let out a light laugh even as I calculate my retribution. “Yes, I said it’s fine.” I’m proud of how smooth and low my voice is. Guess I really have gotten better at acting.

I calmly lift my left hand to wipe at the ice cream. I’m still gripping the cone in the right.

He inches closer and I force myself to keep still, like a black widow spider waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Do you need a towel?” Now he does walk the rest of the way to me.

“I don’t know, is it bad?” I ask innocently.

He leans closer to study my dress and that’s when I strike. I smash what’s left of my ice-cream cone into his face. He lets out a gasp of surprise before lurching back a step. With timing even I couldn’t have calculated, the tide comes in and takes him out. He falls backward with a satisfying splash.

I let out a laugh that turns into a crow of victory, pumping my arms in the air like a triumphant Olympic athlete. Minseok is half soaked as he sprawls out on the sand, ice cream dripping from his shocked face.

“Wow, I wish I had my phone. This is something I want to remember forever.” I glance at the cameraman closest to me and notice him trying to hide a smile. “Do you think I can get a copy of the raw footage?”

Now he does grin, saying, “I’ll see what I can do.”

I shoot him a thumbs-up.

“Hyeri,” Minseok says, his voice low and dangerous.

Suddenly, I realize that there is the very real chance Minseok will want to retaliate.

I back up, the cameraman following along with me. I turn to him and whisper, “Be ready to run.”

He nods with a conspiratorial smile.

“Listen, jagi-ya,” I say in my most charming version of aegyo. “You got me first. This was just a small bit of revenge. We can end it here, right?”

I’m still backing up, the sand too loose around my feet. I know that I won’t be able to escape if he comes for me.

“Nope, this is not on the same level,” Minseok says, scooping up water to wash the ice cream from his face before angrily flicking it from his fingers.

“Oh n—” My words turn into a scream as Minseok lunges at me.

I barely dodge him, trying to scramble up the beach. He gives chase, pivoting so lightly on his feet that you’d think he was on grass instead of sand.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” I scream, like that will deter him.

“Yeah, sure,” he retorts as he almost gets a hold of my arm.

I try to race down the beach. But as predicted I’m awkward and slow on the terrain. I feel that lightheaded fear of being caught, but I also have the strange urge to let out a loud screaming laugh. Like the thrilled noises children make during a game of tag. I make the foolish mistake of pausing to look back.

Just as I do, he takes me down with a tackle.

My scream is cut short as I land with a hard Oomph . But at some point in our drop, Minseok managed to spin us, so I fall on top of him.

I try to push off to escape, but he rolls us to trap me under him. As his body presses mine into the sand, some of it seeps into my collar.

“Okay, okay, you win!” I admit.

“Do I?” he asks, poking at my ribs where I’m the most ticklish, an unfortunate fact he learned when we were younger.

“Yes, yes, you win!” I’m laughing so hard my eyes are watering. I’m so breathless from it I probably look red as a tomato. And I’m so desperate to escape that I’m squirming like a worm to get free. Sand gets into places I don’t even want to think about. I’m certain I’ve destroyed both my hairdo and the dress. Not the calm, professional image I try to maintain on-camera. But I also haven’t had this much fun in a long time.

“Do you give up?” Minseok demands with another tickle.

“Yes!” I grab his hand to stop him.

The sheen of laughter tears in my eyes turns the rays of sun into a hazy halo behind his head as he hovers over me.

I blink hard to clear my vision, but it just brings his face into focus.

His lips are open on the end of a breathless laugh of his own. His warm brown eyes are glowing with triumph at winning our arbitrary wrestling game. This close, I catch the scent of him, sea and sugar and just a bit of his aftershave. The same kind he used when we were trainees.

It makes me viscerally remember being fifteen again, anxious to prove myself and desperate for him to aim one of his smiles in my direction.

The barrage of sense memories must be why my body is tingling everywhere. Why my heart is racing like it used to every time he’d send me a wayward smile in the company hallway.

There’s a bit of ice cream still at the edge of his cheek and in his sideburn. I reach up with my free hand and wipe it away.

I feel him tense when I touch him. Does he not like this? I start to snatch my hand back, but he catches it in his and glances down at the drip of ice cream I wiped off.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and now it’s my turn to tense as strange shivers slide down my spine.

“Hey, ease up a bit, I need to catch my breath.” I push at him and he sits back, letting the sea breeze sneak between us. It replaces the smell of him with that of the ocean. I’m both disappointed and relieved.

“So, what’s my prize?” he asks.

“Prize?”

“Yeah.” He stands up and the sun he previously blocked shines into my eyes. I squint, lifting my hand against the glare, and he grabs it to haul me up too. “I should get a prize for winning,” he says with a grin that plays havoc with my already confused brain.

“What prize do you want?” I focus on wiping sand off my arms and hands instead of on that brief, indefinable moment that passed between us.

“I’ll think about it,” Minseok says. “Tell you during dinner.”

He reaches toward me, and I pull back before I realize I’m acting like a scared animal and stop myself. Minseok gently wipes at the sand stuck on my cheek, then neck. I focus everything on standing still as he does it.

“Okay, yeah, at dinner,” I agree quickly.

“Okay, cut!” Han-PD calls out. Immediately, I stumble back in retreat, pretending it’s because of the uneven sand and not my need to create distance between us.

Hongjoo hurries over, brushing at the sand on my back with a towel.

“Thanks, Eonni. I can do that.” I take it from her, wiping at my arms and legs.

“Okay! That was good,” Han-PD says, walking over, trailed by two assistant PDs.

“Really?” I ask. “You don’t think we were too…much?” I glance at Minseok, but he’s busy taking the makeup wipes his manager offers to clean off the ice-cream residue and sand.

“No, it was exactly what we wanted for you two. The chemistry is great.”

“Oh yeah? Good.” I breathe out, not sure how to take the compliment. Is this really chemistry? Does chemistry make your mouth super dry?

“Eonni, can I have some water?” I croak.

“Sure.” Hongjoo runs off to fetch a bottle.

“I’ll let you get some rest before the dinner shoot.” Han-PD slaps Minseok on the back lightly. “Great job.” He pats me on the shoulder, and I can’t stop the goofy smile that spreads.

“How’s your new mattress, Kang-PD?” Minseok asks one of the assistants who came over. She’s usually the one fetching us to set. She’s young and energetic, and idolizes Han-PD.

“Oh, it’s great! You were right, I like this new brand.”

“I’m an expert on comfortable places to sleep,” Minseok says with a grin.

“Oh, and thanks for the perfume suggestion, Hyeri-ssi. You were right, my sister loved it,” Kang-PD says.

“Oh, I’m glad,” I murmur, still feeling awkward around Minseok. I wonder where Hongjoo is with that water.

“We really do love the vibe between you two,” says Kang-PD.

“Thanks,” I say weakly, stealing a peek at Minseok.

“So, we were talking about what we think your prize should be,” Go-PD says. She’s older than Kang-PD, and has been at HBS for five years. She told me last week that her mom liked my drama. It’s so odd, but, for the first time, I think I’m becoming friendly with the crew. I’ve never gotten close to people on set before. But Minseok has this habit of chatting with people between takes. And he always ends up involving me. I’ve somehow become closer to the staff as a byproduct.

“What prize?” I ask.

“Moonster’s prize,” Kang-PD explains.

“We think it should be Hyeri calling Moonster Oppa again,” Go-PD says.

“What?” I blurt out.

“Really?” Minseok replies. “Why?”

“Well, it goes back to your first date when you made the bet on the crane machines. It’ll be really satisfying for the full-circle moment,” Go-PD explains. “What do you think, Hyeri-ssi?”

I bite my lip, hesitating. I’m not sure how I feel about being forced to call him that again. But as both PDs watches me, I realize that I don’t think I can say no. I feel like I owe this show for helping me avoid fallout from the midsummer scandal. And what’s the big deal if I call him that again? It’s just for the show, it won’t mean anything. I start to nod when Minseok replies.

“Nah,” he says shaking his head. “I don’t want it to be because of a bet or a wish anymore.”

“Wait, really?” I ask.

“Are you sure? It would be a good moment for the show.” Go-PD is frowning now, and I’m worried she’ll be angry with us.

“If they want me to say it…” I start to say, but Minseok shakes his head emphatically now.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll come up with something else.”

He starts to walk away, back to the hotel we’re staying in tonight.

I jog after him, a little wobbly still on the sand as I catch up. “Why’d you do that? I can just say it if it’s for the show.”

“No, I’m not going to make you say it,” he says.

“It’s really okay,” I assure him. “I’m a professional; I can do it for the show. It won’t mean anything.”

For some reason he looks angry. “No, Hyeri. I said I’ll come up with something else.”

Minseok turns to go, and I grab his arm to stop him. “Are you mad at me?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “No. I’m fine. I just don’t want it to be like this.”

I laugh, confused. “For what to be like this?”

He’s staring at me now, his face too blank for me to read, and my smile drops a bit. Why does he look like he wants to devour me?

Despite the sun still blazing overhead, goose bumps rise along my arms.

When Minseok replies, he sounds more serious than the conversation should warrant. “If you’re going to call me Oppa again, I want you to mean it.”

He continues toward the hotel, but I stay where I am, because for some reason my legs feel too weak to walk right now.