Page 36 of Wish Upon a K-Star

H e wants me to mean it? Is he saying he thinks of me like a younger sister?

The thought makes me cringe.

Maybe I should stop being so pathetic and just ask him. But I can’t bring myself to do it. He’ll know I’m overthinking it. He’ll assume I’m reading into it. Thinking he means something he doesn’t, or worse, that I like him again.

Which would just seal my complete and utter embarrassment in front of him.

No, I’ll just let it go. It probably didn’t even mean anything.

“Dammit,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair in frustration. It gets stuck in the tangle left by salt and dried seawater. “Ouch.”

“Need help?” David asks, walking across the sand toward me. He’s already tanning from the sun.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as he hugs me.

“Are you kidding, who would pass up a free trip to the beach?”

Jeongho trails behind David, sweating and huffing as he lugs the stylist’s bag.

“Can we go inside?” he whines. “My shoes are filled with sand.”

He looks like he’s literally melting from the heat. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead and the bag slung over his shoulder must weigh a ton. It’s safe to assume he’s one person who might reject a free beach vacation.

“Should you be carrying all of that?” I ask, worried he might just pass out at our feet.

“Are you saying I can’t do my job?” He glowers at me.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way,” I say urgently at the misunderstanding.

David pats Jeongho on the back. “Go to the hotel and check into our room.”

Jeongho looks relieved, lowering in a bow before taking off.

I stare after the assistant. “Do you think I upset him?”

“Jeongho is just a nervous guy. Don’t worry about him,” David says, looping his arm through mine. “Come, I shall fix this tangle on your head.”

I let David bring me inside to the hotel suite the production reserved for me. Hongjoo is already in there, hanging outfit options for tonight’s dinner shoot.

We have a two-hour break, but I can’t let myself rest. It’s a quick shower to get the last of the sand and salt off and then right into hair and makeup. Even though we’re going for a low-key style, it’s kind of laughable how much effort it takes to do a no-effort look.

By the time I’m pulling on my dress, the sun is starting to set. I’m in a V-neck A-line chiffon dress in sky blue. The skirt is pleated, but light enough to flow around me with every step I take. It reminds me of my mother’s skirts I used to try on as a little girl and spin and spin so they flowed around me.

The restaurant sits along the beach with an open deck covered in twinkle lights.

Minseok is already there when I arrive. He’s standing at the railing, watching the water move in and out with the tide.

With the warm glow of the setting sun washing over him it could be a setup for a romantic photoshoot.

His hair looks expertly tousled, pushed back from his brow. I’ve always liked him with his hair styled like this. And those damn goose bumps rise on my bare arms again.

It’s fine , I reassure myself. He’s objectively attractive; you’d have to be completely dense not to see that.

Then he turns, the sun at his back, and a slow smile curves his lips as he takes me in.

My heart does a little somersault in response.

This is not good. It feels too much like how I reacted to him when I was fifteen and harboring a massive crush.

“Jagi-ya, you look amazing.” He takes my hands, and I force a smile onto my face, though it feels like my lips are trembling just a bit.

“Thanks, you look nice too,” I reply.

Please, just calm down , I beg my heart.

“Let’s eat.” He pulls out my chair, and I’m grateful I get to sit for the shoot. It feels like my legs are as steady as boiled spaghetti right now.

Food is immediately brought to us. A preset menu chosen for us. My mouth waters at the sight of the juicy steak. I can already tell it’s cooked to perfection.

Minseok starts cutting his meat into small bites. “Did you rest well?”

“Mm-hmm,” I reply, though I didn’t. I was too caught up in wondering what Minseok meant on the beach.

I reach for my knife when Minseok trades our plates, giving me the steak he just cut. I want to laugh at the clichéd loving-boyfriend move. Wait, no, loving husband .

“Did you get all the sand out of your hair?” Minseok asks, grinning devilishly at me as he cuts his own steak and takes a bite.

“Oh, uh, yes, though my stylist is annoyed at you for tangling it,” I try to joke, hoping my smile doesn’t look manic or strained.

“I had to take an hour nap after that battle.”

“Yeah,” I say, rubbing at my sore neck. “I could have used a massage, or at least some aspirin.”

I wait for some witty reply, like a suggestion we get couples massages or something. But instead, Minseok frowns slightly and sets down his fork. Then he reaches forward and takes my hand in his.

“I didn’t push you too far on the beach, did I?” he asks.

“What? Where is this coming from?”

“I just don’t like the idea that I might have messed up”—he frowns, like he’s realizing mid-sentence that he might be making a mistake—“your dress.”

“My dress?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Yeah, it seemed nice. I’d hate to think it’s ruined.” His smile is light, but there’s something in his voice. An undertone that tells me he’s not just talking about my dress.

“It’s all right,” I say slowly, wondering what this conversation is actually about. “I have other dresses.”

Minseok’s smile fades and his hand pulls away, and I think I’ve done something wrong. But he has to know what’s expected of me. That I can’t reveal my anxieties or fears, because they’ll be twisted to be used against me.

“Yeah, I suppose you can get another dress. But if that’s the one you chose to wear when you were with me, then I should’ve been more gentle with it.”

I force another light laugh, but it comes out as a slightly too high trill of nerves. “You don’t need to feel so bad about a dress.” It’s not even mine; my stylist sent it for the shoot.

“I just need you to know I always appreciate your…dresses.”

“Oookay,” I say slowly, still completely lost.

He picks up his glass, a charming smile replacing his pensive expression. “Let’s have a cheers. To us.”

I play along, figuring it best to move past my confusion. I’m sure what just happened will be cut from the episode. I should focus on creating more interesting content for the rolling cameras. “To our future.”

“And our past.” Minseok grins as he taps our glasses together.

I laugh. “I’d rather forget our past.”

Minseok takes a slow sip of his soda. “Why would you say that?”

I’m still smiling, sure he’ll agree. “Well, come on, we were so awkward. And I had that crush on you, right?” I’ve decided to own that narrative for the show. The fans actually received it well after episode one. “You said it yourself, I was so annoying.”

“I never called you annoying,” Minseok says firmly, setting his glass back down with a hard click.

“Well, you didn’t have to say it, we both know it, right?” I laugh again, taking another sip of my cider.

Minseok is frowning at me now and I’m wondering why he’s not going along with the lighthearted tone I’m trying to set. I’m trying my best to be casual and careless like him. He loves needling me about our past. Why isn’t he doing it now when I’m giving him an easy opening?

Instead, he sighs. “Sometimes I worry that I never told you how much you meant to me back then.”

His tone is far too serious. And the combination of candlelight below and fairy lights above makes his eyes seem depthless.

“Come on, it’s okay if you say I was annoying. I was your friend’s little sister,” I reply, trying valiantly to return us to a lighter tone.

But Minseok refuses. He reaches out and takes my hand, letting our fingers link. “Maybe it was my mistake for never telling you. But you made everything so fun when you were around. I needed that, to be reminded we were just kids sometimes.” I think I hear him murmur, “That we probably still are.”

I want to yank my hand away, but I know I can’t. Instead, I mutter, “I thought I was just your little shadow.”

I see his slight wince, but he recovers expertly. “A shadow is important,” he says, still gripping my hand tightly. Squeezing just a little too hard. “If someone has no shadow, doesn’t it mean they’re just in the dark?”

I want to laugh. I want to ask which writer scripted this. But I can’t, because, damn him, his words make my heart lodge in my throat.

I hear the sigh of at least one of the assistant PDs. And I know that his charm is on full offensive. It’s chipping at the shields I’ve built for four years.

This is so unfair. I wasn’t prepared for this kind of emotional battle tonight.

“So, are you asking me to only be around during the day?” I try for a joke.

“I’m saying I should’ve been less careless with you in the past.” His thumb moves over my knuckles, a soft caress. Static electricity runs over my arms, like lightning setting my senses on fire.

“I told you. Those things don’t matter anymore.” My voice barely makes it past my tightened throat.

“They matter to me,” Minseok says.

It’s just for the show , I remind myself.

But even if it is, saying something like this on camera, broadcasting it to the entire country—the entire world—is a declaration that he is willing to say such soft words to me. That I’m worth saying them to.

My neck feels hot and I’m sure it’s red from embarrassment and something else. Something that’s making my hand tingle under his.

Despite knowing that everything we’re doing here is to entertain, I want to ask him if this is real.

A part of me needs to know as I feel my heart start to dip, as I feel myself start to fall back into the old familiar tingling rush of a crush. It’s heady and exciting. And terrifying, because I know better now how impossible this is.

But I force a smile. “I guess our past is why we work, huh?”

Thankfully, he finally lets go of my hand now. Finally lets his serious expression melt into a playful grin. “Yup, and maybe it’s why you’ll let me steal part of your dessert?”

I laugh in relief at the more familiar mood and nod. “Sure.”

As dessert is served, I keep my light and friendly smile in place. But under the table, my fingernails are digging painful divots into my palms.

It’s all I can do to keep my entire body from shaking. I really screwed up. I’ve fallen for Moon Minseok all over again.