Page 13 of Teach Me K-Pop

I nod. “I don’t think he does, so I wondered if you told him or not.”

“No, I didn’t even think about it. I figured since he knows I work at the label, he would have just assumed that’s how we are connected.” He laughs and it sounds fond. “He’s kind of oblivious to things right in front of him sometimes, though, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t put it all together.”

I try not to smile, not to give myself away any more than I have, but I know he’s right. Jase does not seem to have picked up on any of my attempts at flirting with him. Or maybe it is just that he is determined to stay professional and thinks ignoring me is the best way to shut it down without embarrassing either one of us. But it’s also possible that I don’t know how to flirt. I’ve never really tried to do it before. I can be cute for the fans, but that is different. It is an act. A performance. This, with him, is my real life. “I like that he doesn’t know,” I admit.

“Is that all you like?” Kija asks gently, and I know I have been too obvious.

Scuffing my shoe against the floor, I mumble, “No, hyung.”

Kija makes some kind of soft noise that sounds like he thinks this is cute or something. The kid with a crush on his best friend. “He’s a great guy. And he’s got that whole ‘America’s Sweetheart’ look about him, so I get it.”

It is not what I expect him to tell me. “He’s nice. It’s good to talk to someone who isn’t part of…” I wave my hand around the small space. “This.”

“Yeah, I like that about him, too. He might be the only person I know who doesn’t care about what I do. Not that he’s not interested or that it’s not important to him, it’s just not part of who I am to him.” Kija smiles again.

I feel happy that he speaks of Jase like this, like he’s confirming the things I think I see and think I know about him.

Kija chuckles, looking like he is recalling something. “When we were in Seoul together, I got so drunk one night after my exams at university that he practically had to carry me back to my apartment. I don’t remember much of the night, but I woke up the next morning—well, afternoon—feeling like I’d been run over by a bus, and Jase was sleeping on the floor in the corner of my bedroom. He’d folded up one of my towels to use as a pillow and just crashed, but he stayed to make sure I was okay.”

I know I should be trying to control my expression better, but I can’t keep the grin off my face. I don’t want him to stop talking. I need to hear everything.

“I couldn’t figure out how I’d gotten my contacts out or why my hair was still damp. As soon as he heard me moving around, he popped up to check on me, and I noticed he was wearing some of my clothes. When I asked him what happened, he told me I’d been complaining that my eyes hurt, so he’d taken my contacts out for me and stood in the shower with me—in his clothes, getting soaked—to help me stand up because I’d been sliding down the wall, and he was afraid I was going to hurt myself. That’s why he’s my best friend.” Kija reaches for the rows of buttons and pushes a few until something makes the elevator move again.

“Thank you,” I say, for telling me everything I didn’t know I wanted to hear. “That’s a good story.”

Kija nods, just once. “I have a lot of good stories about him. I’ll tell you more sometime.” The door opens at the bar and he gives me a sly look as he steps out. “Enjoy your conversation with Jase.”

When the numbers start climbing again to take me to my floor, I realize that Kija has said nothing to discourage me. He didn’t tell me that I shouldn’t feel the way I do. If anything, he gave me more reasons to like Jase.

I walk back to my room, passing the others that I know are empty of outside guests because our security team requires them to be. In order to walk freely through the halls, whatever floor we are on is just ours. Our whole team—the members, the dancers, the managers, the crew—will more than likely take up all of the available space anyway. The other guys are in rooms on either side of mine, and I hope that for now, Lux has decided to hang out with one of them to give me some time to myself. I need a few moments to think before I call Jase for our session today.

Peeking inside after I unlock the door, I’m relieved to find I am alone. It might not last long, so I want to enjoy it. I know some of the members would use this time for other activities—being able to jerk off in private is still something of a luxury—but that has never been a priority for me the way it has been for a few of them.

I do stretch out on my bed, though, processing the new information that I have acquired about Jase. I realize that even after almost four months of talking several times a week, I don’t know nearly enough about him, but I feel like I recognize something in him that’s important to me. That I see who he is as a person and it makes me… interested. Makes me attracted to him.

It occurs to me that I don’t even know if he is single. He doesn’t wear a ring, and he’s never mentioned anything that would make me think he’s married. Surely a spouse would not be so understanding of the hours and frequency that we talk. But I also don’t know his preferences, not really. Sometimes I think I get a feeling, but I’ve been wrong before.

I’ve been looking forward to speaking to him again for the past two days. Starting the tour has made arranging times to meet even more difficult than it was when I was in Seoul, because the time zones can change every time we are in a new city. I have tried to mention the requests as casually as possible, not wanting to have to explain why I need them to be different, and he has never asked. I like that he is easy-going, adaptable. It feels like balance to me.

Checking my phone, I see that I have 12 minutes until our call. The idea of looking at my screen and watching as it connects and I can see him makes my stomach flip in a way that is kind of scary and a little bit exciting. He lets me guide our conversations by asking what I want to talk about each time.

Today, I want to talk about him.

CHAPTER FIVE

JASE

I’m choking.

Legitimately-struggling-to-stop-coughing, can’t breathe, eyes-watering kind of choking.

I should have known better than to be drinking something as the call connected and Nikko came into view. I’d barely had time to notice that the room he was in was different again, only just taking in the way he was smiling, looking a little like he had been waiting for me.

He’d made eye contact with me for approximately one second before blurting out, “Are you married?”

And then I was choking, completely caught off-guard. No greeting. No warning. He’s not really asked me many questions—and nothing personal. But then he goes and starts with that one. I wonder why that’s what he wants to know. The idea that he’s curious about my relationship status, whether or not I’m married, makes my heart do some sort of off-rhythm tap dance.

“I am so sorry!” I can see him full-on panicking, his hands flailing all over the place, gravitating toward the screen like he can fix this somehow and then trying to cover his face and hide the blush that’s spread across his cheeks. “Oh my god. I am sorry.”

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