Page 5 of GR8VITY

“I went to get a coffee,” I explain, in disbelief at myself for bringing it up. “Your picture was on the wall.”

Huffing out a short laugh, his eyes drop to the ground as his smile comes back. “It was only a matter of time. I thought you were going to say that you saw me out in public somewhere.”

“Would that have been bad?” I ask, slightly confused.

“Not necessarily,” he replies slowly. “I’ve only been two places today, though, and we have stalkers sometimes that like to hang around.”

My jaw drops open as I look at him incredulously. “You actually have stalkers?”

“Mmm,” he says with a nod. “Sometimes.”

“And you’d think I was one of them?” I ask.

He grins. “You never know.”

“I would know,” I tease him. “If anybody is the stalker, it’s you.”

Laughing again, he closes the distance between us. I have to look way up to see his face this close. It’s skinny like the rest of him, but he’s got puffy little cheeks that pull up when he smiles with thin lips. His black hair is styled to cover his forehead, almost touching his dark brown eyes. There’s no doubt about it, he’s one of the prettiest men I think I’ve ever seen in my life.

“I did come out here multiple nights, hoping that you’d be standing in that same spot,” he admits quietly, his deep voice rumbling even in the low tone.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I repeat my words from last night, “See, I’d be easy to kidnap. Ice cream and a pretty face.”

This draws a bark of laughter from him, and it’s contagious.

KYUNG

I can’t help but stare at the beautiful woman in front of me right now. I wasn’t lying when I said that I’m probably the stalker. It does kind of feel that way. I just didn’t realize it until now as I said the words out loud. It didn’t start that way. I just needed to get out and clear my head, because I was starting to feel the drain of doing the same thing every single day. Even the walks started to become monotonous. Until I started noticing her.

Always in the same spot, looking out over the city. Almost always with the same lost-in-thought expression on her face. I found myself starting to wonder what she was thinking about every time that I saw her. It became a game I’d play with myself, trying to imagine what had her attention every single time.

Then the first night I decided to speak to her, I was so nervous that my intrusive thoughts told me to just launch myself over the railing rather than say anything. I’ve performed in front of tens of thousands of people, and even that didn’t have me as nervous as I was that night. Part of the reason I only managed to get one question out before I ran. Which is so unlike me. If anyone were to ask the men who’ve been with me for the past ten years, any of them would’ve said that I’d be the last one to be nervous like that.

The second night was better and this one even more so. Especially since now I don’t feel like I’m hiding anything. Be it my status or my face.

I wait until she’s done laughing before I smile down at her. “I happen to think you’re prettier.”

A slight blush turns her cheeks pink, and I know from experience with one of my members that she’s not used to taking compliments. I sidestep her with a little dramatics, making her laugh again. Taking a few steps, I make sure she turns to follow before I keep going.

We take it really slow, or maybe it just feels that way to me because I’ve got long legs and can eat up some distance when I’m not even thinking about it.

“So, did you look us up?” I ask, clasping my hands behind my back and looking over at her.

She smiles softly, and I like it. “I did not actually. I wasn’t even going to bring it up until you did, but you did that trick with your pretty face and got my brain in shambles.”

“You’re going to have to stop calling me pretty,” I tell her.

Glancing up at me, she asks, “Why?”

“Because,” I answer, staring up into the sky, “either I’m going to get a big ego or get offended that you aren’t using the word handsome or sexy instead of pretty.”

She snorts softly, drawing my attention back to her face.

“So, why didn’t you look us up? If you don’t mind me asking,” I say curiously. I think any other person would have. I can’t even say that I would’ve held back if I found out she was famous.

Shrugging, she says, “It didn’t seem important. I figured that I would give you the chance to tell me first.”

“It’s not important that I’m an idol?” I ask.