Page 25 of K-Pop Double Life

“I haven’t done this since I joined Starhouse,” he admitted after a while. “Just walking without worrying about being recognized.”

I squeezed his hand. “I’m much more anonymous than you are, except around the Starhouse headquarters,” I said. “There, the fans recognize all of us. Even Sun-hee-noona. The fan magazines are full of photos of everyone, down to the assistant wardrobe mistress and the lighting techs.”

The bells of Notre Dame drifted across the water. “So...” I said. “Why did you want to be an idol?”

He was quiet long enough that I thought he might not answer.

“My mother says I was always performing.” He smiled. “When I was six, I made everyone sit in the living room while I lip-synced to old K-pop songs with a television remote.”

“I can see that.”

“I loved making people happy. I didn’t think about being famous. Just...” He searched for the word. “...needed.”

His smile softened. “My parents both worked all the time. When they laughed because of something I did, it felt like I’d done something important.”

“So every concert...”

“...still feels like trying to make someone smile.” It was sweet the way he finished my sentence. I’d seen that sometimes with Sun-hee-noona and Jae-sung. Somehow that made me feel like there might be a future for the two of us.

We stopped where the Seine split to go around an island. Tourists clustered on the bridge ahead, with Notre Dame framed behind them. Jin looked at me. “What about you? Styling isn’t exactly a childhood dream.”

“No.” I laughed. “I wanted to be invisible.”

That caught his attention.

“My mother made almost all our clothes. She’d alter things she’d bought secondhand until they looked expensive. She always said people judge you before you open your mouth.”

“My grandmother said something similar.”

“I wasn’t very good at sports. I wasn’t the smartest kid in school.” I shrugged. “But I discovered I could help people become the person they wanted the world to see.”

“You don’t just choose clothes. You help tell the story.”

I hadn’t realized anyone had noticed. “I suppose I do.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you’re telling mine.”

Heat crept into my face that had nothing to do with the sun.

A pair of police motorcycles rolled past on the boulevard, blue lights flashing though their sirens stayed silent. A few seconds later a black sedan followed, then another.

The pedestrians barely looked up.

Neither did Jin. But instinctively our hands loosened before finding each other again once the convoy had passed.

He looked ahead, along the quai. “They’re probably escorting somebody important.”

“Maybe.”

Neither of us believed that was why my pulse had suddenly quickened.

We continued toward Notre Dame, disappearing into the tide of tourists, just another anonymous pair among thousands—for now.

When we got back to Jin’s room, he said, “I should probably take a shower before rehearsal.” Then he looked at me, with mischief in his eyes. “Join me?”

Immediately I felt my body respond. “You might need help getting some parts of your body clean,” I said, and smiled.

Then it was a race to see who could strip fastest and get into the big hotel shower. Like many in the fancy hotels where we stayed, it only had a glass panel along most of one side, no door. I stepped in first. “Let me make sure the water is the right temperature for you, sir.”