CHAPTER NINE
JASE
“ Y our hair is different!”
I have been on screen for approximately three seconds when Nikko notices. I’m kind of surprised, but also not. I know he pays attention. I know he can read me pretty well. I really should have expected he’d be quick to pick up on something like this, too. “Oh, yeah. I’m still not sure what I think.”
On a whim, I made an appointment right after our last conversation, feeling compelled to step up my game or something. Nikko always looks so good, no matter the time or the situation, and I’ve spent more than half of our conversations having just gotten out of bed or at the end of a long day, bedraggled like some kind of roadkill. Whatever is going on between us, he deserves to see something better from my side of the screen.
I had walked into the salon and said, “Go for it.” My stylist was young and seemed like the kind of person who would keep up with things that were trendy and might make me appear at least adjacent to cool. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this style all over social media lately, which could be either a good or bad sign.
“I like it. It works on you. For you.” He smiles, sweet and genuine. But then there’s the briefest flicker of something else that doesn’t seem so positive. It’s gone as soon as I catch it, though.
“Uh, thanks,” I stammer, bashful at the compliment, even though that’s exactly what I’d been hoping to hear. “I guess I thought it was time to try something new.”
Nikko nods slowly. It’s the same way he does when he’s considering what he wants to say, even though I thought we were past that now. “New can be good,” he says after a moment.
I can tell he wants to ask me something, but can’t decide if he should or not. I’m curious, but I don’t want to push this new-normal, everything-out-in-the-open dynamic too far too fast, so I let it go. “You’ve tried a lot of different colors, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I think I have used almost all of the rainbow.” He laughs a little. “I liked the blue.”
Immediately, I think of a picture I saw of him sitting on the set of what was probably a FLY episode, his hair a vivid shade of blue and pulled up away from his face in an apple ponytail, the bright tips sticking up in every direction. It should have looked ridiculous - and likely would have on anyone else - but was somehow stupidly attractive on him, of course. There was also a very specific shade of magenta that I thought was pretty fantastic, but I end up telling him, “Blue is my favorite color.”
“Hmmmm,” he hums. “Maybe I will do it again soon then.”
I have to smile when he teases me. But that doesn’t seem like just a jokey kind of comment. It’s flirty. At least it feels flirty, with the subtle hint of a smirk that’s playing on his lips. Or maybe I just want to think it is. Hope it might be.
“Don’t mess with the aesthetic on my account,” I insist, willing to try to play into this banter and see where it goes. “I can’t have your style team blaming me for any impulsive decisions.”
Nikko is grinning, but it’s kind of shy, tucked into the fingers of the hand propping up his chin. He mumbles something that sounds like, “They would not be surprised,” and I have no idea what that might mean. Rearranging himself in his chair, he sits up straighter. “I would not be able to change a color in the middle of a tour anyway.”
“Oh. Huh. Okay. I guess that makes sense?” It’s probably got something to do with one of those secret rules of k-pop cosmetology that I definitely don’t know yet and wouldn’t understand even if I was told.
He snickers at my poorly concealed confusion. “We all have dark hair now. It will stay that way until we are done with the shows. And then we will change for the next album.”
“Got it.” I give him a thumbs up, which he immediately returns in a way that’s weirdly cute for such a common gesture. “So what have you been doing today?” I ask, now that I’m allowed to know more of what’s actually going on in his life.
“We had a photoshoot this morning for a magazine,” he says, while reaching for his phone. He taps at it a few times, then turns it to face the screen so I can see it. “I liked some of the clothes. I had Lux take a picture of me.”
I lean in a little, and even though the details aren’t super clear through both the phone and computer, I can see enough to know that he looks stunning. I’m sure he hears my shaky gasp as I take it all in—the sultry look in his eyes as he leans against a colorful backdrop in a black-on-black outfit that appears to have been tailored specifically for him. I immediately decide I will be buying multiple copies of whatever magazine this is for.
“Wow.” It’s the only word I can come up with. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a good look.”
Nikko’s whole face seems to light up, as his cheeks go a little pink. “Thank you,” he whispers, like he’s so pleased with my assessment.
I try to think of something intelligent to say while he pockets his phone again. “Was there an interview, or was it just photos?”
“Only pictures this time. I would not have minded an interview.” He gives me another smile, small and soft but still dazzling. ”I could have said much more now.”
Nodding, I return his pleased expression. “You definitely could have. But you’re ready for next time.”
“Yes. I will be.” He watches as I run my fingers through my hair, giving it a ruffle when I realize that I’ve just messed it up. I can see him tracking each move I make. “Do you have a date?” he asks suddenly.
The question catches me off-guard, throwing me for a loop, like he’s so good at doing. I wonder if this is what’s been on the tip of his tongue every time he’s looked like he’s about to say something.
“What? No.” He must think I’ve changed my hair because there’s something going on—or someone I want to impress. There’s a small part of me that wants to admit I did it for him, but that seems like a bit much still. Is it? I don’t know. I told myself I’d wait on him. Let him guide where this—whatever it turns out to be—goes.
“Oh. Okay.” Nikko bites his lip. “Would you tell me if you did?”
I open my mouth to respond, but I honestly don’t know how to. I guess I’d tell him, because I wouldn’t have a reason not to. But right now I also can’t imagine dating anyone. Well, I can imagine dating him. That, I have definitely thought about a time or two. But I have no idea how to say any of it, so I don’t.
“Sorry. You do not have to answer.” He tugs at the beanie he’s wearing, fidgeting.
I’m sure he’s nervous that he’s overstepped. “Nikko, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”
He looks at me for a moment, and I think he’s going to say something—those perfect lips shaped around a word that’s not coming out—and I can’t not stare. Can’t not think about kissing him.
The same thing happened last night as I lay in bed, wondering what he’d think of my hair. If he’d notice. I’d known he would—had counted on it. Because I’ve learned that about him. Know those kinds of things about him now. That he’s observant and thoughtful. And has the most kissable mouth I’ve ever seen.
I’d tried not to not focus on that for so long, but the white flag has been raised. I’ve surrendered. Given up. Given in. Whatever it is, I have spent far too much time imagining what it might be like to walk into a room where Nikko is waiting for me, and see how he might respond in real time. To hop up out of the chair he’s lounging in and come close to tousle my hair and tell me that he likes it, then grab my collar to pull me in for a kiss. Or maybe he’d smirk as he slips a finger through my belt loops to draw me toward him, our knees knocking before our hips collide and...
“Jase?”
I don’t even want to know what my face looks like right now, called out from that fantasy, so I steer my gaze away from the small image of myself at the bottom of the screen. “Sorry. I was just, uh, just thinking that I’d have to meet new people before I could date anyone.”
There’s a hint of something in his eyes, a little dark and a little sad, before he says, “I meet people all the time. That does not always make it easy.”
“That’s true. It doesn’t necessarily mean there are more options,” I agree. I know that if ten hot, single men came parading through this room, I would not notice. None of them would catch my attention, because Nikko has it all.
“And sometimes…” Nikko pauses, looks away from the computer, and takes a deep breath. When he turns back, his eyes catch and hold mine. “...you already know a person you would like to date.”
I’m not sure if all the oxygen leaves my body or if I’m having some sort of cardiac episode or what happens as his words reach my ears and tumble into the part of my brain that immediately begins freaking out.
I feel like there’s no way to misinterpret what he’s saying as he stares me down through the screen. I think about the last time we spoke—“ I will tell you, ” now echoing in my head. Now that I know who he is, did that freedom make him brave? Is it possible he’s really telling me what it sounds like he is? I swear the intensity of his gaze might actually set my soul on fire.
There are two things I can do: I can tamp down whatever hope I have and try to move past this, or I can ask him to clarify. There’s just enough of the teacher left in me in this situation that I need him to use his words. I need to hear him say that I’m not imagining this. That I’m not seeing signs that aren’t there.
I don’t know how I’d react to either scenario. If I let this moment go and pass up the opportunity, I will always wonder what could have happened. But if I sit here and let him tell me that the person he’s talking about is me, I know I have to stop pretending there’s anything professional left about this relationship. I don’t know what that would make us. I’m not even sure what I would call what we have now.
My heart is skittering around inside my rib cage like it’s trying to escape. I swallow, but my mouth is dry. This next sentence might change everything. “There’s someone you want to date?”
“If I could, yes.” He nods once, like he’s very sure of what he’s saying, but there’s something about him that still seems nervous. “I have been thinking lately. About what I want. And how to be less scared of asking for it.”
I should be encouraging and tell him that’s good, that I’m proud of him. That we should all do more of that. But I don’t. Instead, I feel my pulse stutter as his tongue darts quickly across his lower lip. I need to know. “What do you want, Nikko?”
“I think the question is who ,” he corrects me.
“Who?” I echo, one hand gripping the edge of the chair I’m sitting on. I’ve waited for a lot of things in my life, but I don’t know that any stretch of time and anticipation has ever been quite so tense for me. I just want him to tell me. I can imagine him saying my name, like I could make it happen through sheer force of will or desire.
Nikko inhales slowly, then exhales as his gaze drifts somewhere over my shoulder. I realize a second later that I’m breathing in sync with him, as if matching his measured respirations will do something to calm me down, too.
When our eyes make contact again, I can see the smile reflected in his before I’m aware of it on his mouth. That same smile that makes me feel a little light-headed every time I see it. He probably knows that. I hope he knows.
“If I could have anyone I wanted, it would be you,” he says.
The relief is immediate. Hearing those words settles all the chaos that has been ricocheting around between my head and my heart.
He’s looking at me expectantly, waiting anxiously for me to respond to his confession.
“Same.” It’s inadequate, but it’s enough for him to visibly relax. I laugh a little as he beams back at me, because now all of my words want to come out in a rush. “I would want that, too. I do want that. Want you.”
“I hoped you would say that,” he tells me, quietly. “I am happy we are friends, but I like you, too. Since the beginning, I think.”
For all the times I’ve wished I could reach through the screen and touch him, I have never wanted to more than I do right now. He’s been bold and honest, and he deserves the same from me. “I don’t know when I realized this wasn’t just friendly for me. Maybe it was right away. I knew I was attracted to you as soon as you showed up in the chat that first day. And I knew I liked you as a person when you told me about rearranging closets when you get anxious. Every time we talk, I find something new that I like about you. Something else that makes me wish I was in Seoul and we were chatting over hotteok and iced Americanos and not…” I trail off as I gesture at the computer. I’ve said a lot there. But it’s all the truth.
“I wish that, too.” He looks wistful for a moment. “Do you know our song ‘ maybe’ ?”
Of course I know ‘ maybe .’ It’s track seven on ghosts . It’s probably in my top 25 most played songs if I were to go check those rankings in my music app. “Yes, I do. It’s a favorite of mine.”
Nikko flashes a grin—there and gone—before he tells me, “I have been glad there is not choreo for that one. I keep thinking of you when we sing it on stage. I would forget my steps, if we had them.”
I blink back at him because I have no idea how to respond to the single most romantic and overwhelming thing anyone has ever said to me. I want to ask him which part of the song reminds him of me—if there’s a line that I can go get tattooed somewhere on my body. The whole of the lyrics are swoon-worthy in that lovesick crush kind of way. I wonder now, if the reason I loved it so much from that first listen was because it reminded me of myself. Of this situation. Of him.
maybe we have the same dream
maybe you could be my everything
maybe we would have it all, you and I
if you’d just let me hold your heart,
maybe you’d see the way I could love you
The connection seems crystal clear now. Maybe there hasn’t been anyone else because I was just waiting for him.
“Is that too much?” He sounds worried, probably from the time I’ve been silent.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard, and I just needed a moment to take it in.” If this is how it is now—how it’s going to be, when he opens up—I fear I am not prepared.
“Oh.” I get a hint of a smile, then he says, “This is all new for me. I have not felt this way about someone before.”
“Me neither,” I assure him. “Not like this. Never like this.“
He twiddles with one of his dangly earrings. “I was so young when I started with the group. I wanted to do this so badly it was the only thing I thought about. There are… rules? Yes. Rules about us not dating for a number of years when we debut, but there is also no time. Some people try. It does not last long. I never did.”
His eyes drop for a second, but when he brings them back up and gives me a look that’s so shy and endearing I actually start to reach toward the screen. But I don’t say anything; I won’t interrupt him. I want to hear everything he has to say.
“I did not have a kiss until I was 19. And only then because I was complaining to one of the members, and they asked if I wanted to try.” His cheeks flush, like he’s embarrassed, and a wave of affection for him hits me so strongly it could probably knock me out of my chair.
“You know that doesn’t matter, right? What you have or haven’t done. There’s time for all those things.”
I want to tell him that the right person won’t care about any of that and will be happy to figure it all out together. But I also want that person to be me. I don’t know how it would be possible, but right now, that seems like the least of my concerns. I just need this beautiful boy to know that he’s perfect, and someone will be so lucky to have him in every way.
“Gamsahamnida,” he murmurs.
We both laugh simultaneously at the sudden use of Korean to thank me. He seems surprised it slipped out, but I think it’s adorable.
“Seriously, though. Experience isn’t important to someone who cares about you, Nikko.” The hopeful expression on his face makes my heart ache. “I wish I could hug you right now.” Hug. Hold. Kiss. Touch. All of it. I want everything.
“I wish that, too.” He adjusts his beanie again, smirks a bit. “I think about it sometimes. Not only that.”
My jaw drops at what it sounds like he’s insinuating. If he means that he’s thought about me—about us—in a physical way. As much as I want to ask for more detail, I’m not sure I can handle it right now.
Somehow even with my brain trying to process this new and potentially scintillating information, I notice we have a guest before Nikko does. One of the other members literally dances into the frame behind him, earbuds visible as he clutches his phone in his hand. Unsurprisingly, his fancy footwork seems to require him to pause within direct eyeline of Nikko’s computer.
“Oh my god,” Nikko groans as soon as he sees him. “I knew this would happen.”
I’m biting my lip trying not to laugh. The guy has on a Dodgers ball cap, a Yankees jersey, and what appears to be cut-off sweatpants with his sneakers. Based on the limited knowledge I have of the rest of the group, I guess, “Tang?”
Nikko nods. “Yes.”
Despite Tang’s continued dancing, which is both extremely impressive and quite entertaining to watch, he reminds me of my mother attempting to sneakily peek out the kitchen window when I’d been dropped off from a date in high school. My potential suitor had been just about to lean in to kiss me when he’d caught sight of her and then decided to bolt. I’d turned around to see her sheepishly pulling the curtains closed before I’d gone stomping inside and up to my bedroom.
Tang’s not even sort of subtle as he stares at Nikko’s screen, obviously spying on us and squinting like he’s trying to ascertain as much about me as he can to report back to the others. It makes me wonder what they know about me. What Nikko might have told them.
I wave and he seems shocked, as though he thought I wouldn’t catch on to what he was doing. He gives me a quick peace sign and pulls out an earbud, telling Nikko he’s really late for whatever is next on their schedule.
Glancing at the clock, I realize we are well past our usual allotted time. Truthfully, I’d have sat here all night, hanging on Nikko’s every word if we’d been able to.
“I am sorry,” he says to me, then stands up and shoos Tang out of the room by telling him he’ll be right there.
I shake my head. “No, go. We’ll talk soon. Whenever you want to.”
Nikko leans down close to the camera, smiling. “I always want to talk to you.”
Even with everything that’s happened today, it still takes my breath away. “Me, too. Go be famous. I’ll be here.”
He winks at me and ends the call.
I collapse back into my chair and briefly consider just letting myself slide off of it into a heap on the floor. I feel like I’m made of jelly, like I’ve been squeezed tight and left squishy and boneless by the rollercoaster of emotions from the talk we’ve had.
There are several things that I know for sure now, that I am definitely going to need to take some time to wrap my head around.
Nikko likes me. Is attracted to me. Would date me.
Nikko knows that I feel the same way.
This is all brand new to him.
Kinda feel like this is all brand new to me, too.
He’s inexperienced. Never really been kissed. A virgin.
I really like the idea of being his first(s).
I have no idea what to do with any of this.
I hope Noel is ready for a long, long walk.