Page 42 of Teach Me K-Pop

About one second before the door bursts open, I feel the change in the air—like everything suddenly becomes electrified. And then there they are, stumbling through the stage exit, tripping over each other while they start yanking their clothes off.

As shirts are flying, I look for Nikko, but I can’t deny my eyes stray to Chita’s abs more than once. Because…damn. I guess it’s some sort of karma that I catch a glimpse of Nikko just as he’s pulling his t-shirt down, with only the briefest flash of his side still peeking out before he yanks it towards his hips.

But I am instantly unconcerned with what I missed, because he starts walking toward me as soon as he realizes I’m there.

His smile is so bright, so wide, it’s overwhelming to have right in front of me, no screens or pixels to dim the full effect. “Did you see? What did you think?” he asks excitedly.

Grinning back, I’m just about to answer when the other members start crowding around.

“Good, right?” Ryo prompts, his English much more heavily accented than Nikko’s. But then he seems to remember something. “Best show you’ve ever seen! Tell me. You can tell me. I know it’s true,” he says, having switched to rapid-fire Korean.

I laugh and respond affirmatively, also in Korean, assuring him it was indeed the best concert I’ve ever seen.

Language barrier now lowered, the rest of the group seems to have an endless supply of questions for me about everything except what I saw on stage. I try to focus on who is inquiring about what—including my intentions for Nikko. So I guess we’re just jumping right in, then. It makes me curious again, though—wondering what he’s told them about me, what they know about our relationship.

I glance over at him, his eyes closed as he shakes his head slowly, muttering quiet curses about the others under his breath. I can’t help but laugh; the sibling vibe is so real and so very strong.

It’s obvious that Ryo and Tang are the instigators, Lux and Chita are nosey but in a more cautious way, while Lalo stands back and listens to everything, subtly reaching to give Nikko’s shoulder a squeeze.

Nikko nudges Lalo with his elbow, and they exchange a quick smile before turning their attention back to me. I immediately decide that Lalo is my favorite—the quiet care he shows for Nikko warms my heart.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough,” Chita says in English, after I’ve made an attempt to answer most everything they threw at me. He gives Ryo and Tang a pointed look before adding in Korean, “We don’t want to scare him off before Nikko even gets to spend any time with him.”

Tang snorts. “I think that would be more effective if he did not understand what we were saying.”

I perk up at the sound of his speech; his satoori is so distinct I feel like I’m right back in South Korea, trying to figure out which accent was from what region. I have no idea where Tang lived before moving to Seoul, but I’m pretty sure that I can identify several places that he’snotfrom.

The rest of the group disperses toward the food and drinks, but Nikko stays behind, taking a step closer to me.

“Hi,” he says, softly, like he’s shy again.

“Hi,” I reply, trying not to get spooked now, too. “They’re hilarious.”

Nikko rolls his eyes. “I am sorry about them. They have been very…” He pauses, searching for the right word. Probably trying to be polite. “Excited. They have been excited to meet you.”

I chuckle. “It’s nice to meet them. Seeing them like this, it’s kind of crazy they’re the same guys that were just up there on stage. Even as silly as they were, it’s, uh, more intense face to face.”

“I know. I kept telling them not to do that, but they donotlisten,” he says, sounding very much like a younger brother.

I notice how calm the room seems all at once, with the other members wrapped up in their snacks and cell phones. They’re leaving us alone, I know. Though I can see Chita glancing this way, keeping an eye on what we’re doing even as he pretends he’s not.

Nikko and I had discussed the potential for us to escape for a bit after the show, but it had never been a definite thing. He had to ask for permission, and I had needed to sign my life away first, promising to never speak a word of anything I had seen or heard while I was with him or anyone else associated with RYSING.

For the first time, I feel a little awkward with him. I don’t know if I should ask about going somewhere else or if I should wait for him. Maybe he’s not even interested at this point. And that’s fine. I’d be disappointed, for sure, though. I want to spend time with him, I know that. But then I’m wondering, would this be a date? I haven’t been on a date in far longer than I’d like to admit, and this seems like a hell of a way to jump back in. What does one even do on a date with a global superstar?

Fuck. Now I really am nervous.

Nikko’s dark eyes flicker up to meet mine for a second before he leans in toward me. “Do you want to... can we go somewhere?”

I nod. “Yes. Whatever you want.”

“I want to talk to you,” he tells me. “But only me and you.”

“I want that, too.” The words have barely left my mouth when he strides away, walking with purpose toward a group of people who look older—and perhaps more business-like—than the rest of those milling around.

I don’t know what to do with myself, so I wait, looking around the room at the rest of the members as they refill plates and try to eavesdrop on Nikko’s conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, Nikko’s wearing a baseball cap from our local team to “blend in,” and has been granted freedom for a couple hours, with the promise to stay within sight of the security guard who will be going with us and return to the hotel by a specified curfew. It’s more than I’d dared hope for, so I’m completely satisfied by this turn of events.

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