Page 90 of Somewhere Only We Know
When we finally reached the gate, a Latina teenager broke free from the barricades, her long ponytail trailing behind her as she sprinted toward me. Ren immediately caught her, almost swinging her up in the air.
“Lucky!” she exclaimed, her brown eyes huge, her hands stretched out toward me as she was restrained by the giant man. “I love you!”
I stopped. And I looked at her. Really looked at her. My Instagram account had so many comments from girls like her.
I love you!
Follow me back!
DO YOU SEE ME?
In the beginning, I had tried my best to like each comment, to respond to some of the questions. But Ji-Yeon handled my social media now, and she blocked followers and deleted comments with a heavy hand.
I looked at Ren and gestured for him to let her go. He did. But not without a deep frown. The girl stood there, so surprised that she had frozen in place.
“I see you,” I said, reaching out and giving her a hug. “You want a photo?”
She nodded, unable to speak. Her hands were shaking so hard that she couldn’t get her camera into selfie mode.
“Do you want me to do it?” I asked. She nodded again, handing the phone to me with trembling fingers. I aimed the phone so that we were both in frame. “Say kimchi,” I said with a laugh. A giggle cameout of her and I took the photo right then as she was smiling and comfortable.
She started crying when I handed the phone back to her. “Thank… thank you,” she managed to say.
How many fans had I seen crying as I walked by them? In the front row of my concerts? I had grown so numb to it. I had grown numb toabsolute adoration that made people cry.
I smiled at her, my lips quivery as I let myself absorb her emotions. Her feelings. I sang these songs for her a long time ago.
“What’s your name?”
Her eyes were wide, her mascara smeared. “Etta.”
“You’re welcome, Etta,” I said, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
People had hushed during this interaction and the crowd roared back into noise as soon as I started walking again.
“Ren,” I said.
He only had eyes for the path ahead of us. “Yes?”
“I’d like to pad in some extra time when we land in airports. I want to say hi to fans.”
I expected a protest of some kind, but he shrugged. “Fine by me. I get paid by the hour.”
I grinned and pulled on my sunglasses as we stepped out into the LA sunshine.
I was home.
Nothing felt more like home than being stuck in traffic on the 405 freeway. It had been three years since I’d been here, and I tried to gobble up every second of it. Even the traffic.
I watched it through the tinted windows of the car, happy to be home even though it would be brief and I’d only see my family for a day before recording the show tomorrow. After the show, we had to fly immediately back to Seoul to start recording the American version of my album and do a couple of variety shows to discuss my American debut.
The radio volume was low—set on an oldies station I used to love as a kid. Ren and the driver were up front; Ji-Yeon and Joseph in a separate car, headed to their hotel.
I closed my eyes and slouched into my seat, wanting to turn my brain off before the long drive to my parents’ house.
Something fell into my lap. My eyes snapped open.
“I forgot about this,” Ren said from the front seat, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “That, um”—he cleared his throat—“guy. That guy you were with yesterday. It’s from him.”
