If not?
Game over.
I asked my dad to invest, and he even said he wouldn’t make a bet he wasn’t sure he could win and would wait and see.
Haneul’s dad said the same thing.
So that left us…panicked.
The songs for the mini-album are ready.
The concept for the MV—the music video—is completely drawn out.
And we already have another girl, a rookie who looks nervous every time Haneul or I talk to her, which brings me back to the dark horse. Ah-Ri.
She’s got a mouth on her in more ways than one.
And we’ll need that attitude.
Plus, she’s not just a visual. She can dance, sing, rap—she can do it all. Sure, she’s a bit tall, not as thin as some of the other trainees, and is so fucking argumentative I want to slam my head against the wall, but she’s really all we’ve got at this point.
Every other person we approached said they didn’t want to take the chance on us and would rather do a variety show before trying a co-ed group.
I go knock on Haneul’s door and wait for him to answer. Finally, he pulls it open, his blond hair messy around his face, blue contacts out, and his brown eyes showing. He’s wearing a Nike shirt and joggers and looks like he’s just waiting for disappointment.
“So…” I gulp. “She texted.”
“Let me guess.” He sighs. “A giant middle finger followed by a shit emoji?”
“Not exactly…” I lift my phone and show it to him.
He looks ready to pass out as he grabs it. “Is this a prank?”
“Nah.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “She’s in.”
“So, we have a group!” Haneul says. “We have a fucking group!”
I smile; I can’t help it. “We have a group.”
His smile suddenly falters. “That means we need to get our schedules figured out. The songs are already written. They’ll need to learn them and the choreography. Why don’t we divide and conquer at first? I’ll work with Jisoo, and you can work with Ah-Ri separately for the next two weeks. Then we’ll combine and do all the joint tracks and choreo.”
“Wait, why do I get Ah-Ri?”
“Because.” He smiles. “I might actually murder her if I’m in the same room with her and her smart mouth for longer than zero seconds.”
“That’s not even mathematically possible.”
“Exactly. Because it’s not possible.” He snorts. “Look, maybe you can soften her up a bit so I don’t go to prison when we start our joint practice sessions.”
“Murder’s a death sentence in Korea.”
He hands my phone back and smirks. “So, I guess you’re saving my life in a way.”
My thoughts go to her smart mouth and shit attitude, and then I’m thinking about her outfit, the sweat running down her cheeks, and the way her skin glistened under the lights.
I hate her, I remind myself, but only because the alternative is acknowledging the major crush that I’ve had on her ever since watching her dance. My hate is all I have, and it’s mostly directed at myself for hurting her feelings. For being that guy.
The truth is, I hate myself.
And it’s too hard to look in the mirror and take responsibility for the fact that I can’t even look at another girl. I can’t date. It’s always been her. It’s easier for me to blame her for my inability to even look at others than take responsibility.
Ah, Dad would be so proud.
Besides, crushing on a girl about to be in our new group isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, so I hold onto the hate, even though it’s childish and immature.
This is business.
Survival.
This is years of working our asses off and getting betrayed by our bandmates.
And I’m not a good actor. I’d get eaten alive in any K-Drama—fully.
If I can pull this off, I can start writing for other artists, maybe producing—which is the real dream. One day I want to start my own label that offers idols more freedom and doesn’t involve falling for the one girl who has the power to get in my way and distract me—even if she is good.
I swallow the lump of anger and frustration in my throat and nod. “Fine, I’ll text her later and book some of the practice rooms for the next few weeks.”
Haneul shrugs. “At least you’re good at pretending. I can’t do it, not with her. Plus, you debuted early and were already successful on your own before joining a group. How hard can this be?”
How hard, indeed.
“I guess we’ll see,” I grumble.
“Cool, I’ll call Jisoo now.” He shuts the door, and I walk on numb legs into the main room to sit on one of the couches.
I drop my phone onto the table and stare down at it.
I don’t realize my hands are shaking until my text alert goes off again, and I see it’s another one from Ah-Ri.
Ah-Ri: So? Do you have a plan?