Page 68 of Wish Upon a K-Star

“Yeah, I suppose you can get another dress. But if that’s the one you chose to wear when you were with me, then I should’ve been more gentle with it.”

I force another light laugh, but it comes out as a slightly too high trill of nerves. “You don’t need to feel so bad about a dress.” It’s not even mine; my stylist sent it for the shoot.

“I just need you to know I always appreciate your…dresses.”

“Oookay,” I say slowly, still completely lost.

He picks up his glass, a charming smile replacing his pensive expression. “Let’s have a cheers. To us.”

I play along, figuring it best to move past my confusion. I’m sure what just happened will be cut from the episode. I should focus on creating more interesting content for the rolling cameras. “To our future.”

“And our past.” Minseok grins as he taps our glasses together.

I laugh. “I’d rather forget our past.”

Minseok takes a slow sip of his soda. “Why would you say that?”

I’m still smiling, sure he’ll agree. “Well, come on, we were so awkward. And I had that crush on you, right?” I’ve decided to own that narrative for the show. The fans actually received it well after episode one. “You said it yourself, I was so annoying.”

“I never called you annoying,” Minseok says firmly, setting his glass back down with a hard click.

“Well, you didn’t have to say it, we both know it, right?” I laugh again, taking another sip of my cider.

Minseok is frowning at me now and I’m wondering why he’s not going along with the lighthearted tone I’m trying to set. I’m trying my best to be casual and careless like him. He loves needling me about our past. Why isn’t he doing it now when I’m giving him an easy opening?

Instead, he sighs. “Sometimes I worry that I never told you how much you meant to me back then.”

His tone is far too serious. And the combination of candlelight below and fairy lights above makes his eyes seem depthless.

“Come on, it’s okay if you say I was annoying. I was your friend’s little sister,” I reply, trying valiantly to return us to a lighter tone.

But Minseok refuses. He reaches out and takes my hand, letting our fingers link. “Maybe it was my mistake for never telling you. But you made everything so fun when you were around. I needed that, to be reminded we were just kids sometimes.” I think I hear him murmur, “That we probably still are.”

I want to yank my hand away, but I know I can’t. Instead, I mutter, “I thought I was just your little shadow.”

I see his slight wince, but he recovers expertly. “A shadow is important,” he says, still gripping my hand tightly. Squeezing just a little too hard. “If someone has no shadow, doesn’t it mean they’re just in the dark?”

I want to laugh. I want to ask which writer scripted this. But I can’t, because, damn him, his words make my heart lodge in my throat.

I hear the sigh of at least one of the assistant PDs. And I know that his charm is on full offensive. It’s chipping at the shields I’ve built for four years.

This is so unfair. I wasn’t prepared for this kind of emotional battle tonight.

“So, are you asking me to only be around during the day?” I try for a joke.

“I’m saying I should’ve been less careless with you in the past.” His thumb moves over my knuckles, a soft caress. Static electricity runs over my arms, like lightning setting my senses on fire.

“I told you. Those things don’t matter anymore.” My voice barely makes it past my tightened throat.

“They matter to me,” Minseok says.

It’s just for the show, I remind myself.

But even if it is, saying something like this on camera, broadcasting it to the entire country—the entire world—is a declaration that he is willing to say such soft words to me. That I’m worth saying them to.

My neck feels hot and I’m sure it’s red from embarrassment and something else. Something that’s making my hand tingle under his.

Despite knowing that everything we’re doing here is to entertain, I want to ask him if this is real.

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