Page 9 of Somewhere Only We Know
They nodded, pleased to hear it. It was a lie, of course. One of many to keep my parents from freaking out. If they knew how little I ate and slept—well, I wouldn’t be able to do this. I knew the sacrifices my family was making to get me here. The least I could do was keep them from worrying about me.
We hung up and the homesickness still weighed me down. Or was that the sleeping pills? My limbs felt heavy, but my mind was racing.I crawled into bed without washing my face or brushing my teeth, like a monster, the fluffy white comforter swallowing me up. The luxurious sheets slid against me, cool on my cozy pajamas. I was dressed warmly for bed, a habit I picked up while living in Korea.
The first night I spent at the training room dorms, I had gone to bed in a tank top and underwear and the other girls had ridiculed me within an inch of my life. Like, calm down, it’s just undies. Or as I had called them, ppanseuh, the word my parents had used for underwear. Another faux pas that made my Americanness more clear. Apparently that was an old-fashioned Japanese word that only grannies used. The cool kids said “paenti.” Like panty. Straight-up panty, a word that gave me the creeps. And no one slept injusttheir paenties.
You know, my boots were annoying the heck out of me lately. It’s like, don’t let Lucky wear flat shoes, God forbid she’s only five-ten! FIVE! TEN! THAT! IS! TALL!
When I thought in all caps, the pills were definitely kicking in. I tossed around in bed, punching my pillow to fluff it up some more. But whether it was from hunger or annoyance or what, I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me. I had an early wake-up call for practice. I couldn’t flub onThe Later Tonight Show, no sirree.
Mm. Hamburgers.
That was the problem. I was still freaking hungry. I kicked off my blankets and cracked open my suitcase. I kept my thermal shirt on but wriggled out of my sweatpants and into a pair of ripped black jeans. I pulled on my favorite baseball cap—a plain olive-green one that drew absolutely no attention to itself. My pink wig was being carefully guarded by Ji-Yeon and off my head, thank God. Then I threw on a camel-colored trench and looked for my sneakers but couldn’t find them anywhere.
“Note to self,” I mumbled. “Someone is stealing my shoes.” I glanced down at the white hotel slippers by the bed. Those would do.
I was about to open the door and breeze outta there when I realized who was outside.REN!I shook my fist at the door and bent my knees in dismay.
Then I straightened up, my hair whipping back from the swift movement. No, I could do this. I was smart. Everyone said so, even if it was because my management label claimed I got into Harvard.
HA HA HA.
Yeah, cool, I was applying to Harvard while subsisting on sweet potatoes and learning how to pirouette counterclockwise.
Okay. Think, Lucky. Think.
After a second, I rapped on the door. “Ren?” I called out in a thin, pathetic voice.
“Yes? Everything okay?” Ren’s voice rumbled through the door.
“Nothing huge, but, uh… Ji-Yeon’s sleeping and um, well. I need medicine. For my period cramps.”
I could feel the revulsion through the heavy door. “Sorry,” I added sweetly.
“What kind do you need?” he asked, all huff and puff and gruff.
“Midol. Or the Chinese equivalent. Tell them the problem, they should know at the front desk.”
I heard him grumbling and waited until the heavy footsteps receded. A few seconds after that, I cracked the door open to peer down the hallway. I was on the penthouse floor for privacy and there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Closing the door gently behind me, I sped down the corridor, switching from a run to a creeping gait, to a run again. What was the best way to sneak?
The elevators were at the end of the hall, and there was one open and waiting for me. I ran inside and hit the button that said “1,” feeling myself relax, when a hand gripped between the doors and pushed them open. Shoot. I stepped back into the corner and hid my face.
“Thanks,” a guy’s voice said. I glanced up. It was some young Asian guy clutching a jacket. I shoved myself farther into the corner, as far away from him as possible. But he wasn’t paying attention to me.
The dude was grinning and pulling on a wrinkled blazer. Then he untucked his shirt and fluffed up his hair.
I couldn’t help but look at him. What a weirdo. Cute weirdo. Incredible hair. Tall. Broad shoulders coupled with long limbs. But totally giving off the strangest vibes. A kind of manic euphoria. I inched closer to the wall when he started chuckling as he looked through his phone. Okay, sir.
I tried to calm my racing heart, praying for no more passengers. Luckily, there weren’t any, and I barely breathed until the elevator stopped on the first floor.
When I stepped out, I was in a carpeted hallway, not the lobby. I glanced back at the elevator in confusion.
“If you’re looking for the ground floor, that’s level ‘G,’” the guy said, barely looking up from his phone.
With as much pride as I could muster, I said, “No, this is it,” and strutted away. Despite not knowing where the heck I was. In hotel-room slippers.
Hotels. I knew hotels. I would go in the lobby and ask, low-key style, where the best burger was. So I took the stairs one flight down.
