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Fans are waiting outside with signs. It blows my mind. I don’t even know how they figured out our schedules when we weren’t even supposed to be at the label today. Their dedication to stalking and knowing our every move us is pretty insane. Which also makes me wonder what shifted but Solia looks too angry to ask so I leave it alone and I know the rest of the guys are tired with our already packed schedule so again, I say nothing.
Security steps out of the large all black glass skyscraper and hold the fans back creating a nice path for us while we walk in our sunglasses and face marks through the double doors. People are holding up proposal signs, tossing stuffed bears at us.
One girl to the left is crying my name, like she’s tormented or something. I give her a little head nod and she cries even harder.“He saw me!”
Look, I’m flattered by the attention but these are the kind of moments that I don’t understand. I’m so covered up she doesn’t even know if I really saw her or not. But she’s still taken by the idea that maybe I did. Maybe I noticed her out of the sea of fans. It’s amazing to me—this level of obsession. My mouth was on someone else’s only an hour before we arrived here. And that woman is the only one that matters to me. If only people knew our hidden lives, our secrets, we let them see what they want, which is why the fall from grace is so fucking far.
Why it’s so important to never make a mistake.
We’re instantly escorted to the top floor where all the conference rooms are. Huh, this is interesting. I thought they were bringing us in for an extra practice or a meeting about the album again?
“What, the hell is going on?” Lucas whispers next to me, I can barely hear him under his mask, but it’s Kai who grabs my elbow and guides me into the room.
Rae’s stoic in front of us as we walk into the huge conference room and take in the scene. TestME, the five group members who live in the other penthouse and who’ve only released one album so far are sitting with smug, yet innocent grins across the conference table.
My surprise doesn’t stop there.
Ari is also in the room, and she’s standing next to a man I’ve never seen before. He looks like he’s in his late twenties. He’s dressed in an expensive looking black suit and is standing really close to her. Too close, if you ask me.
I hate it.
Something he says makes her laugh—which in turn, makes my skin crawl. He’s pointing at papers in a black leather portfolio and smiling like an idiot. What’s so funny about papers? But Ari seems to think something’s funny about what he’s showing her. Huh. Right then and there, I decide I hate him. I especially hate that he made her laugh.
And what really pisses me off even more are the smug guys sitting across from where we’re standing like they are the best thing that’s ever happened to the label.
Bull shit.
We’re the ones that made it possible for them to even have a group.
They were trainees under FS for two years tops—the fact that any of them debuted that fast would be alarming except they have a similar concept and look. So the minute we started becoming the biggest cash show—that basically carried the label early on—management wanted a junior group that we could help promote and that would feed into our brand.
Smart business for management—but for us, they’ve been a thorn in our sides.
When we were helping them produce songs for their debut, we had no clue they’d turn on us the minute they felt a slight taste of fame.
Last year they even snubbed us at an awards show by not paying respect and it was so blatant it made the news. We of course had to smile through it and be gracious and act like it wasn’t a big deal. We did such a good job that the press believed it was an accident—they were just too stunned they won best new artist.
Talk about loyalty.
I take my time and look at each member of the group. I swear if Suho doesn’t stop staring at Rae in that condescending way or copying what Rae wears, he’s going to have to deal with me. I envision myself jumping across the table and punching him in the throat. The fantasy appeases my anger for only a second—what’s happening inside is the exact opposite of what I’m projecting out. I’m supposed to be calm and innocent—the guy who’d never get in a fight.
And here I am, imagining how good it would feel to smack this kid in the face.
I keep my mask firmly in place and am grateful they can’t see my clenched jaw.
As if we’re in sync, we all do slight bows and pull out our chairs.
I know I’m not the only one angry about this group’s disrespect. We are so in tune with each other that I can feel the fury emanating from each of the guys.
Rae is the most explosive. He’s sitting next to me and is so tense, I’m afraid he might be pushed to react. Lucas can feel it too, and actually reaches out and grips Rae’s thigh as if to say pick your battles.
I keep my face firmly glued in front of me, blindly staring out the window behind the group, trying to focus on something that doesn’t make me want to commit a crime.
“How have you been?” Suho asks Rae in Korean. His voice even rubs me the wrong way.
Rae answers coolly in English. “Good, you?”
Suho answers back in English. “Perfect.”
