Page 95 of When Worlds Collide
The thought dug at me, picking at me like an old bruise. It was some time before I was able to push it aside and fall asleep.
New Year’s Eve in Korea was definitely something I’d take with me all my life. Although, when I’d recounted the story to Becka the next day, it sounded far fancier than what had actually occurred.
“So let me get this straight,” Becka said, sitting down in the kitchen and propping the phone up to peer at me through the screen. “You went on a movie star’s yacht, down the Han River towatch the fireworks, while I sat in bed with the flu?” She wiped her nose again, as if to illustrate the point.
“You make it sound so extravagant,” I rolled my eyes.
“Bish, explain to me how that’s not extravagant!” She sneezed three times in a row, each time looking angrier about it. “Fuckin’ flu.”
I laughed, only forcing a more serious expression onto my face as she blew her very red nose for the umpteenth time since the start of our video call.
“To be fair,” I began, in a conciliatory tone, “we hardly interacted with any of the movie stars.”
“Plural? As in, more than one movie star?”
“Well,” I shrugged, “where there’s one…”
“Say less.” Becka coughed. “So, what did you actually do on this luxury liner populated with South Korea’s most fabulous?”
“Um. Would you believe me if I told you we hid on the top of the deck?”
Becka laughed, a loud, hacking, phlegmy laugh. “Normally, no, but because it’s you, yes.”
I grinned at the memory.
When Jihoon had told me we’d been invited to spend New Year’s Eve cruising up the Han River in the company of some of the biggest names in the movie industry, I’d about expired. He barely knew the guy, apparently. They’d brushed shoulders at various events over the years, but hardly knew each other enough to hold a conversation. But, his managers had implied it would be the kind of event he ought to go to, if he wanted to drum up some enthusiasm for his solo mixtape, which felt like a corporate way of saying, ‘this is a ‘you’ problem’.
I’d watched as a tic fluttered across his jaw as he’d said that. ENT had barely lifted a finger to help with his solo project, which was why the production of it was dragging on for so long. Asidefrom being sent to LA to record some tracks with American producers – namely resident slimeball, Trevor ‘grabby hands’ Kyle at Pisces – ENT had been frustratingly hands-off with it.
“So, what,” Becka continued, “you got on the boat, shook some hands, kissed some babies, and then hid?” She slurped loudly at her steaming mug of hot tea with honey and lemon.
“I mean, not exactly like that.”
We’d boarded the boat at the same time as everyone else. It was a super exclusive event so we could be assured there were no press, but even so, we’d wanted to be as low-key as possible. Jihoon had greeted the host – who even I had recognised as the actor of that horror movie we’d watched recently – while I stayed tucked behind the crowd, and honestly, no one had paid me the slightest bit of attention. They were all a little bit preoccupied with each other, to be honest.
I’d gotten the impression that if they didn’t know you… there was probably a good reason for it. Weaving in amongst them, no masks, no proverbial box of cables in my hands… I’d felt like an impostor. This was not my world. Maybe that was why no one had noticed me: I didn’t belong, and it had showed.
“Jihoon said maybe ten words total to the guy before someone else elbowed him out the way to get to the big movie star,” I rolled my eyes. “After that, he grabbed a bottle of Champagne from the bar, waved at a few people, and then we ducked under one of those velvet ropes-”
“The kind meant to keep people out of VIP areas?” Becka grinned behind a sniffle.
“Exactly,” I winked back at her. “And it turned out to lead all the way to the top of the boat, and honestly if they hadn’t wanted anyone sitting up there, they should have taken the cushions away.”
Becka pointed at me through the screen. “Sound logic.”
“So, we sat down, drank Champagne out of the bottle, and watched the fireworks.”
I couldn’t help but smile, remembering the explosions of lights as they’d danced across the sky and blended with their reflections in the choppy water of the river. I remember wanting to cry – I seemed to do a lot of that recently. It had felt like the kind of dream normal people weren’t allowed to have.
“Why are you living in a drama, while I – the one actually living in LA – am dodging dick pics on social media? Why is my life the romantic disaster?”
I watched with mild alarm as Becka dropped her head onto the counter, the resounding ‘thunk’ making me wince.
“Ow.” Came the muffled, hoarse moan a second later.
“Oh, babes,” I said sympathetically. “What about… you know who?” Saying his name was like navigating a field of land mines. Depending on the day, it was either fine or it was liable to blow up in my face.
“Ben has agreed to give me space.” Becka lifted her head off the counter, a little red mark on her forehead. “But he came round on New Year’s Eve.”
