Page 21 of I'll Be the One

When we’re more than halfway down the hallway, Henry says, “Hey, wait up.”

I begrudgingly turn around to see that Henry’s giving me his flawless Instagram grin. Both members of his team flank him, one on each side, and the petite lady looks like she’s struggling to keep up, so I slow my pace. We’re almost there, anyway.

“Thanks,” Henry says when everyone’s caught up.

Up close, he’s a whole head taller than me, which is surprising since I’m five six. I wish I could say he isn’t as hot in person as he is in pictures, but if anything, he’s even more attractive up close. Henry looks like he could be the love interest in some old rom-com movie, like an Asian Hugh Grant or Ryan Gosling. Except younger, of course, and cuter, if that’s even possible. He’s probably the hottest person I’ve ever come face-to-face with.

Even though I live near LA, the closest thing I’ve had to a celebrity encounter was when I saw Halsey drinking a latte at Urth Caffé. Even then, she was sitting across the café from me, not inches away like Henry is. It still feels surreal that the same Henry Cho my friends obsess over is standing right next to me.

“Hi, I’m Henry. Nice to meet you.”

He holds out his hand, and I shake it. “Hi, I’m Skye.”

I must have shaken a bit too hard, because Henry slightly winces. He’s nice enough to not say anything, though. Instead, he gives me the same calm and collected smile I’ve seen countless times in his Instagram photos. Only, now that I’m seeing itup close, I can see that the smile is definitely fake. His mouth is undoubtedly smiling, but his eyes are distant and guarded, like he has a huge secret. I resist the urge to flip out my phone and check his Instagram to see if his eyes look like this in all his pics.

What does hisrealsmile look like?I find myself wondering, long after Henry’s let go of my hand.

I expect him to say something else—hedidtell me to wait, after all—but he doesn’t. He seems content just to walk with me. I guess he only wanted the company.

Henry seems so at ease that I wonder if he knows that a cameraman from the main room has broken off from the rest of the crew to silently trail behind him. But then, I notice how set back his broad shoulders are, like he’s going down a runway. He definitely knows.

Somehow, I’m not surprised that the show has one camera exclusively following Henry around.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” I ask, gesturing behind us. “Always being followed around by a camera?”

Henry shrugs. “Kind of. But I’m also used to it. My family is always in the spotlight back at home, and my job is literally to be in front of cameras.”

I’m taken aback by Henry’s frankness, so much that I almost don’t notice the mason jar in Henry’s hand. It’s full of a mysterious yellow liquid that I really hope isn’t what I think it is.

“Ew!” I say. “What is that?”

Henry’s face instantly melts into a lopsided grin. It’s not afull smile, and it’s definitely not as polished or friendly as the smile he saves for the cameras, but it looks a lot more natural. Combined with the way his eyes crinkle up in the corners, for a split second, he looks so adorable that I almost trip and fall on my face.

Luckily, Henry’s too amused by my reaction to his drink to notice the blush on my face. Or if he does, he’s nice enough to not mention it.

Stop it!I tell myself.You’re not allowed to get charmed by Henry freakin’ Cho. He’s your rival, for Pete’s sake!

“It’s kombucha,” he says. “Brewed it myself. Do you want to try some?”

“No thanks. I don’t know which tastes worse, kombucha or... another yellow liquid,” I say, because the last thing I want to do is mentionpeeon television. “And I don’t intend to find out.”

From behind us, I hear a muffled giggle, but whether it’s from the bodyguard, the manager, or the cameraman, I can’t tell.

“Harsh,” Henry laughs as we reach the studio door. He opens it for me and says, “After you.”

The doorway is pretty narrow, so I brush past him on my way through. As I pass, I get a whiff of his sea-breeze-scented cologne.

Ugh, I think.He evensmellsnice.

“Kinda sucks how we only have a week to prep while the singers get two weeks, huh?” Doug is saying as we walk intothe room. He’s stretching with Imani, who looks so done that I can only assume Doug’s been talking her ears off. “I mean, I guess it’s still fair because both groups have only one official practice. But I wish Mr. Park could clone himself so both the voice prectices and the dance practices could be on the same days.”

Imani immediately gets up when she sees me, a look of immense relief on her face.

“Oh, thank God,” she says as she holds out a hand in my direction. “Hi, I’m Imani. You must be Skye. So glad there’s another girl in our group.”

My eyes are immediately drawn to Imani’s pink dreadlocks, which look really cool. They fashionably stand out against her black tank top and leggings.

“Hey, nice to meet you too.”

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