Page 33 of Wish Upon a K-Star

“Wh-what?” I barely stutter out, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

Then he gently opens my fist and takes the seat belt from me, pulling it around me with ease. He leans back to click it into place. Without his body blocking mine, the air-conditioning vent blasts on me, a welcome reprieve, as I feel so warm, I worry I’m sweating.

Maybe I’m coming down with something, I think as I press my palm to my forehead.

Hongjoo notices the movement and eyes me in the rearview mirror. “Hyeri, is something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I squeak out, then grimace at the sound of my voice.

I think I notice Minseok’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I turn toward the window so my back is to him for the rest of the ride.

When we arrive at the venue, we’re ushered out of the van in an underground garage. An entourage descends on us the moment we’re hurried out of the elevators. Stylists rush forward to make sure we didn’t wrinkle anything on the way here. Someone from my makeup team pulls out a compact, and I obediently lift my chin so they can touch up my foundation.

We’re stationed at the entrance to the press room. I hear the chatter of reporters behind the doors, and I turn to Hongjoo.

“Eonni,” I mutter anxiously under my breath so Minseok can’t hear. He looks relaxed, unaffected as he lets his makeup team touch him up.

“Just remember your answers,” Hongjoo says. “You know how to do this. You’ll be fine. And if you need help, Minseok-ssi will be there.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Minseok is too much of a wild card. He’s just as likely to make me the butt of a joke for his own amusement as he is to actually help me out in front of the reporters. I’ll just depend on myself—I’ve gotten better at press conferences, even if the constantly flashing cameras are so disorienting.

“Okay, they’re going to announce you both,” someone says. I think I recognize them as an assistant PD from HBS, but he’s gone before I can confirm. Hongjoo and Hanbin are ushering the teams away, probably to take their place in the back of the room to monitor the press conference. And then it’s just Minseok and me waiting behind closed doors to be called in.

“Stop that or you’ll walk in with bloody fingers,” Minseok says, pulling my hands apart.

I didn’t realize I’d been picking nervously at my cuticles. Already my left ring finger looks a mess.

“Shoot,” I mutter, sticking the manicured nail into my mouth to try to smooth out the jagged skin.

“Just take deep breaths. You’ve done press conferences before,” Minseok says. He looks annoyed and it presses deep on my nerves.

“I know. I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” I insist, clasping my hands together to stop myself from picking at them more.

Why is it taking so long for them to call us in?

I just want to get this over with already.

It feels so hot even though the hallway is well ventilated. The air-conditioning is brisk enough that I feel the blow of it from the vents overhead. Still, I press my fingers to the pulse on my wrist to check. It’s definitely speeding.

What if I’m coming down with something? What if I faint in the middle of the press conference?

“Ya, Hyeri.” Minseok grabs my shoulders, and I realize he’s been trying to say something to me.

“Sorry, I—Uh, what were you saying?”

“You still space out like that?” Minseok frowns down at me like I’m a small child with a bad habit.

“I’m just focused on the press conference.” I glower at him as I pull out of his grip.

He tilts his head curiously at me. “Are you sure you’re good?” Things must be bad for Minseok to actually sound concerned.

I’m about to give some brush-off answer, but for some reason I let out a heavy sigh that makes my shoulders droop with defeat.

“Why do you care? Don’t you think I should deal with my own shit?”

He sighs. “Hyeri-yah, I’m sorry. That was a messed-up thing to say.”

I want to hold my ground and not forgive him too easily, but he genuinely looks contrite. And I know starting a fight with him right before this press conference would be a mistake. So I nod. “Yeah, okay, let’s just forget that conversation ever happened and focus on this press conference. I can’t afford to mess this up.” I press my hands against my cheeks. They’re burning, and I can only guess how red I look right now with my rushing nerves.

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