Page 102 of When Worlds Collide
“It’s you!” I stuttered involuntarily.
Taeyang’s arms released me as he frowned down at me.
“Have we met?”
He peered at my eyes, like he recognised me through them.
I straightened up, pushing hair from my face, trying to regain my composure.
“Ah, no, I don’t think so,” I said, ducking my head. “I need to get back, thanks again.”
“Wait,” Taeyang’s hand reached for my arm, halting me from reaching down to pick up the set piece lying on the floor.
“What’s your name?”
I peered up at him, and for a whole second I debated giving him a false one, but I couldn’t see how I’d pull that off long term. So, with a resigned shrug, I said, “Kaiya.”
I knew the moment he put it together. The flash of recognition in his widened eyes, the way his mouth pulled up on a grin.
“The pom!” He cried, and then lowered his tone after looking around to see that everyone else around us was too far away to hear.
“So, this was the ‘this and that’ you’re in Korea for?”
“Something like that.” I kicked at a stone. “I really need to get back.”
“Yeah, hold on. Weren’t you there with-”
Without even meaning to, my hand shot up to his face, covering his lips with my fingers. In the next second, I yanked my hand away, raising it to my own mouth as I stared, wide eyed in horror.
“I’m so sorry!” I gasped. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
But, far from the shock or annoyance I would have expected to see on Taeyang’s face, he laughed.
“Ah, I see,” he said in a low voice, before he tapped the side of his nose. “We all have secrets, sweetheart. I’ll keep yours if you keep mine.”
Then, he winked at me before turning around and walking away, leaving me standing there, stunned, wondering what the hell had just happened, and what secrets of his I was supposed to keep.
“Holy hell,” I cried, pulling my shoe off one of my swollen feet, as I sat on the cold, cracked concrete. “I’m so looking forward to getting into bed tonight.”
My feet were killing me after running around a set all day, resetting the scene in-between takes. ‘Set’ was actually a generous term for the dilapidated, weed-strewn industrial parking lot that ENT had chosen to film in. I glanced down at mywatch, not surprised in the least to see that I’d already topped over twenty thousand steps, and it wasn’t even 6:00 pm yet.
Hana crouched down next to me with a soft groan, tiredly pushing her hair out of her flushed face.
“Tell me about it. If I had to move that godforsaken drum platform one more time…”
She pulled her hands down her face, slightly shiny with exertion, and I was sure I looked no better.
I croaked a laugh at the memory.
“Putting it on wheels was a genius plan, though.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I just wish we’d thought of it about…” she looked down at her own watch, “nine hours ago?”
I laughed so hard I rolled over onto my side, my entire body completely spent.
Hana was silent for so long that when I eventually stopped laughing, I looked over to see her focused on something on the ground. I followed the trail of her eyes down the length of my legs, but she seemed to be looking at my bare foot, the vines and flowers I had tattooed there standing out starkly against the black of my jeans, and I remembered that while more accepted now, tattoos were still a bit of a taboo in Korea.
Hastily, I shoved my sock and shoe back on, before flopping back to the ground and throwing an arm over my eyes. Hana prodded me.
