Kidnapped Idol Read online

  This isn’t real. He’s too beautiful to be concrete. What if he wasn’t a superstar? What if we had met in a coffee shop like regular people? What if I wasn’t terrified of him?

  I clear my throat and scoot back, breaking the stare. He hangs his head, one of his hands rubbing the other fist.

  “Goodnight!” Blain calls to us walking from the bathroom to the bedroom and giving us a wave. I don’t think she heard any of that with the water running.

  “Night!” Woon and I say in sync.

  She shuts the bedroom door and I can hear the fan going. She really wants us to be alone. Probably so I can get over Woon.

  “You were telling me some good news?” I ask, trying to swim through the awkward.

  He doesn’t look at me as his head bobs yes. “I have a way to get back to Korea.”

  My heart drops to my stomach. “Oh? That’s fantastic.”

  I hope he buys my words, because I sure don’t. He’s still not looking at me, and there’s a stabbing pain in my chest

  “Yeah. It is,” he says, reaffirming it to himself.

  Crap. He’s leaving, and I screwed up our friendship. If I really want him around, I need to act like I can handle that instead of being weird around him.

  It’s wrong of me to crave him the way I do. I’m keeping him for totally selfish purposes, and I know it. Even with that knowledge, I can’t stop myself. It’s like Blain is whispering in my ear to quit being such a prude and let myself feel for once.

  I’ve spent two weeks trying not think of him, and I’ve done nothing but. This is as much as we can be, and yet, I have to see it through. If he leaves now, I’ll spend forever dwelling on the time we had. I need him around so I can get him out of my system.

  “When do you go?” I ask, my heart cracking.

  He lifts his head, his face squinting. “I was going to ask you about that, actually.”

  I sit up straighter. “What?”

  Woon rubs his hands on his thighs. “You see, my groupmate can’t get away right now with management watching him so close. I need to stick around until tomorrow night.”

  “Oh,” I say again, trying not to sound triumphant, even though I feel it. “Of course.”

  The thinking part of me must be working again because I manage to keep myself from jumping in the air and shouting, “YES!”

  “Are you sure?” he says with one brow raised.

  I’m sure, but why wouldn’t I be? I nod to confirm, and he gives me the full effect of his smile. It’s dazzling.

  “I don’t want to put you at risk. You can kick me out any time. Say the word and I’m gone.”

  Never going to happen. I take a deep breath, feeling light. “Sounds good.”

  I love the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Great.”

  He leans into the couch and I stretch my arms forward. I want to keep talking to him, but I really stink at conversation.

  I point my thumbs behind me. “I should get ready for bed.”

  “Sure,” he responds.

  “And,” I say, “I’ll bring you a blanket.”

  He nods. “Whatever you have, I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

  If only he knew how much I like having him around.

  I stand up to leave when I hear a rumble behind me. Flipping around, I find Woon stiff-backed with one hand on his stomach.

  “Was that—?” I start, looking at his hand placement.

  He cringes. “I might be a little hungry.”

  I throw my head back as I laugh. “You should’ve said something.”

  I’m not sure what we have lying around, but there is food. I start searching through the cabinets. “How does ramen sound?”

  “Perfect.”

  I pull out a pot and get the water boiling. There’s some green onion in the fridge and I chop it up to add to the water for flavoring.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  I jump, spinning to see Woon right next to me.

  My fingers are sprawled over my heart. “You scared me.”

  He smiles. “I keep doing that, don’t I?”

  I swallow. He is way too close.

  “Yes,” I say, busying myself by cracking an egg. I don’t even know if he wants egg, but I have to do something.

  He doesn’t leave my personal bubble. “I’ll try not to do that anymore.”

  I have to get myself together and talk.

  “I’m sure you didn’t mean to.”

  “No,” he says, taking the egg bowl from my hand and whisking it. “I came over here because I couldn’t let you make my food for me. Now move.”

  I stare at him with my mouth hanging open. His eyes travel to our two-person kitchen table then back to me. “Go, sit.”

  “But—” I say, reaching for the ramen packet.

  He takes it before I can, and holds it to his chest like he’s guarding it. His toe hits my foot as he gestures for me to sit again. “I can make ramen by myself. It’s not hard.”

  I don’t like it, but I take a seat anyway.

  He opens my fridge and takes out hotdogs, cheese, and rice. “Your ramen was a good start,” he says, chopping up the hotdog into pieces. “But this needs to be taken to the next level.”

  I roll my eyes, but don’t argue. Hot dog in ramen sounds like the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard of.

  Now that the water’s boiling, he throws in the noodles and seasoning. He warms the rice in the microwave, and adds the hotdogs with the egg into the ramen pot. The cheese goes in at the last minute.

  Maybe it’s a good thing he’s cooking. I can take full advantage of his leather pants from here. I should probably get him something more comfortable to sleep in, but I’m a touch shorter than him and Blain is a touch skinnier. I’ll have to get him something in the morning.

  Snatching a hot pad from the wall, Woon uses it as the centerpiece for the ramen pot. Then he serves up two bowls of rice, with chopsticks.

  “What’s this?” I say, looking at the bowl he’s placed before me.

  “Dinner,” he says matter-of-factly.

  I press my lips together, looking at the ceiling. “I’m not hungry, and you didn’t ask me.”

  “Seriously?” he says, “After what we just went through? You need food to help you recover.”

  I’m still reliving it, and it makes my stomach churn. Food is not a good idea right now.

  He sighs, picking up his chopsticks. “You’re shaking, you need to eat.”

  “No, I’m—” I start, but then I notice my trembling hands.

  “Open up,” he says.

  I’m in the middle of a “Huh?” when hot noodles touch my tongue. I slurp, pulling in as much air as I can to tame the burning. Really ladylike. There’s a bite of hotdog in there, and some cheese, too. It’s actually amazing.

  “Mmmmm,” I say involuntarily.

  “See,” he says, using the same chopsticks and reaching into the same pot. I guess he’s not worried about my germs. “You need nourishment. Now eat your rice.”

  Might as well resign myself since he won’t let it go.

  I take a big bite and chew slowly, memories of home flooding me with the taste. I swear this rice is better than when I made it earlier, but I have no idea how he did it.

  “More water,” he says.

  I look up, confused.

  He then points to my rice. “It needed more water, so I added some before microwaving.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and then open them again. How did he read my mind?

  He dips a spoon into the ramen broth and takes a sip. “I cooked for all my bandmates.”

  Uncanny. I wasn’t going to ask him how he knew so much about food, and yet he answered the question before I could ask.

  “Of course,” he says, continuing the one-sided conversation. “I mostly just made ramen, but I’m dang good at it.”

  So crazy. I was just wondering if he could make anything else this good. Now I want to test him. If we really are on the same wa
velength, maybe he can read what I’m thinking right now. I narrow my eyes at him and think as hard as I can, asking him the question in my heart.

  Would you stay as long as I asked?

  He has to leave, and I know it. But this is the first time we’ve sat down together and I want to get to know him more. If he leaves tomorrow night, it’ll be a repeat of the pain I experienced the first time we separated.

  I watch him eat for a few minutes. He keeps looking at me, but not saying anything. I really want to know if he can crack my question.

  “Eat,” he finally says around a mouthful of food.

  I pick up my chopsticks and try some more of his ramen. So much for that.

  “What?” he finally says after we eat in silence for a while.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  “No,” he says, putting his elbows on the table and locking his fingers. “Not nothing. You want to ask me something.”

  Some ramen broth goes down the wrong tube, and I start coughing. How did he know? Maybe he didn’t get it exactly right, but he knew I was thinking of a question.

  I take a sip of water and clear my throat. “That’s insane.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “What is?”

  I smirk. “The way you can read my mind.”

  My face instantly flames up. I cannot believe I just said that.

  He laughs, and I can’t help but look at him. “So I was right?” he says through the laughter. “I was just guessing.”

  I don’t want to laugh with him, but his face is so happy I can’t help but join in. Just another check on the list of reasons why he’s not real.

  “So ask me,” he says, his smile still wide.

  “Oh no,” I respond, shaking my head. “I can’t. Too embarrassing.”

  He tilts his head. “Now I have to know.”

  “Nope.” I shovel more food into my mouth to prove my point.

  “Come on,” he says, poking my arm.

  I flinch away from his touch, feeling it all the way up my spine. So not fair. He’s totally comfortable while I’m a wreck.

  “So...” I say, needing a subject change. “You told me you’d explain what was happening downtown.”

  He scratches his head, and then studies his hands. “My career is a bit of a mess right now.”

  Okkkayyy... I don’t think he has any idea how much I’ve been researching him.

  “I think I know,” I tell him. “This is just a guess based on what I’ve read online, but you’re under a terrible CSTAR contract and you want out.”

  He’s still looking at his hands, and I watch as his chest fills with air then collapses. “I wish it was that easy,” he says. “If it was just the contract I could hire a lawyer, but what can I do when I’ve been kidnapped?”

  My muscles go rigid. No wonder he’s been running. I wish the people of the internet knew so they’d stop talking bad about him.

  His fists are flexing hard, and I decide to listen instead of respond so he can say what he needs to.

  “My future is over,” he finally says. “My company in Korea will never take me back.”

  “What?” I ask, confused by the strong statement.

  He grips the table, shaking the pot enough for drops of liquid to splatter around us. “I didn’t have a choice. They stole me away from my company, forced me to sign at gunpoint, and then sued to get out of my previous contract.”

  I slowly sit forward, feeling more on edge than I was during the chase earlier. “What are you going to do about it?”

  He looks at me, and I can see the tears pooling there. “I don’t know,” he says, inhaling roughly. “But I have to get back to Korea to figure it out.”

  Opening Up

  The revelation weighs on my shoulders. I have no idea what to say. If Woon has to go, he has to.

  I pick at the side of the tabletop where something is stuck to the surface. I’d rather not look at him and let him know how I feel.

  “Unless,” he says, causing me to focus on him again. He shakes his head and looks away. “It’s a long shot.”

  “No,” I say. “You can’t start something, and then not finish it.”

  “Why not?” he asks, “You just did it to me.”

  Oh, he’s good. But this is different. “Yeah, well, my question didn’t have sway on the rest of my life.”

  After I say the words, I realize it’s a lie. Whether or not he stays is totally something that affects my future. Either I get over him, or he leaves me wondering my whole life. I need to figure out why I can’t forget him.

  “All right,” he says, and I can see he’s dying to tell me. Why else wouldn’t he keep up the fight? “But you can say no.”

  I lean on my forearms, eager for more. “Spill.”

  “There’s a way for CSTAR to leave me alone, but I can’t do it myself.”

  I wait for him to say more, but he’s looking at me like I’m going to straight up reject him without hearing the proposition. “What is it?”

  The corner of his mouth lifts, just a smidge. “There’s a video. It has everything I need to prove my innocence back in Korea, but I can’t get to it because it’s inside CSTAR.”

  Whoa. That sounds really dangerous. I’m not sure I’m the right person for dangerous. The rickshaw incident was one thing—I didn’t have much of a choice. But willingly walking into the lion’s den? Yeah, not sure I’m up for that. Still, I’m curious.

  My eyebrows raise. “What are you proposing?”

  He copies my position and lowers his voice. “Promise me you’ll say no if it’s too crazy.”

  I already think it’s too crazy, and I haven’t even heard the plan yet. “Okay.”

  “You go in and get it for me,” he says, cringing a little.

  I already gathered as much. “How?”

  He laces his fingers together as he sits up, almost like he’s about to pray. “You could go in and audition?”

  I shake my head to make sure my ears are clear. “Excuse me?

  “Every Tuesday, they have an open audition. You could go in.”

  This is absurd. “You want me to go in, and what? Pretend I can sing?”

  He rubs the palm of his hands over his eyes. “Forget it. I knew it was a long shot.”

  I hold in a sigh. It’s not like I already said no, I just want to understand better. Even if I’m not the right person, I should still try and support him as much as possible.

  “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” I ask.

  He glances at the tabletop, and then back up at me. “You know you’re the first person to ask me that. Everyone assumes I’m in this business for the fame, but I’m doing it because I love it.”

  The conviction in his voice is tangible. I finally understand. Being a singer is more than a job for him, it’s his reason for existing.

  “What would I have to do?” I ask, hardly believing what I’m saying.

  “You wouldn’t have to sing,” he says. “All you have to do is get inside, and then I can guide you to it.”

  I start to hyperventilate as I picture it. “Won’t I get caught the second they hear how bad I am?”

  He laughs. “You’re not the first person who can’t sing who went to those auditions.”

  I glance at the clock. It’s very late, and my tummy is full. That leaves my mind muddled. “I’ll think about it,” I say, even though it kills me. I should jump at this, but I can’t get over my own fears. Then again, if I say yes, he might stick around for a bit.

  He stands up and takes my bowl. “Good choice. I’d be worried if you said yes right away.”

  Whoa. I’m glad I stopped myself.

  He turns on the water and starts to rinse out the bowls. At first I think he’s going to leave it at that, until he pulls out the soap.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say, standing up. “You made the food.”

  I try to reach into the sink when I realize that would require me to be shoulder to shoulder with him.

  H
e turns off the water and shakes off his hands. “I’m your guest, and I have to pull my weight.”

  After he dries his hands on the towel, he places them on my upper arms. He steers me to the couch and sits me down. “You stay here and talk to me.”

  How can I say no?

  The water is loud, but I can still hear him as he speaks across the room. “So tell me, Jenica, what’s your last name?

  I grab a pillow and hold onto it, folding my legs crisscross. “Why do you want to know that?” I ask, attempting to flirt.

  “Come on,” he says. “I’m sure you already know my birthday, my height, and my favorite color. This is the age of the internet.”

  I do know, but I’m not going to tell him that. It’s amazing what I can find out about him online. He doesn’t have the same luxury.

  “Lee,” I say, giving in. The most boring last name on the planet.

  “Jenica Lee,” he says, like he’s testing it out. “Jenica Lee,” he says again, his pitch going up. “Jenica. Lee.”

  I hide part of my face behind the pillow. “Will you please stop?”

  He cranes his neck around to see me. “No. I like your name. Jenica, Jenica Lee.”

  “Uggghhhh.”

  He turns off the water and comes to sit next to me. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop saying your name, Jenica Lee.”

  I whack him with the pillow. He laughs, trying to dodge out of the way but failing.

  “Tell me,” he says, turning my direction and folding his legs the same way mine are. “What’s your deepest secret?”

  I whack him with the pillow again.

  “Hey,” he cries, holding up his hands in defense. “I’m serious here. I should know everything about my host.”

  I face him and blow out my cheeks. “What you see is what you get.”

  Woon gives me a cocky smile, but it doesn’t thin out his full lips. “I see a girl who’s a mystery.”

  “What?” I ask, incredulous.

  “I can’t figure you out,” he says, his voice quiet. “At the Great Wall, you didn’t know who I was but you still tried to help me. Then even after you had plenty of time to read about what everyone thinks of me, you didn’t hesitate to call out when you saw my face.”

  He hangs his head, hands fidgeting. “I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but you’re the first person in a long time who’s seen me as a person instead of a celebrity.”