Kidnapped Idol

by Jennie Bennett

I nod, but can’t seem to find the right words. I’m so awkward around guys. My only boyfriend didn’t ask me out for months because he thought I hated him. It wasn’t until I started opening up that he finally had the courage to tell me how he felt. Neither of us knew how to communicate, which left the relationship doomed.

  Basically, I’m going to be single forever.

  “That rain was really someth—” Blain interjects as she walks in.

  I’ve been so lost in Woon’s eyes, I didn’t notice the rain stopping.

  “Hello,” Blain says to Woon, narrowing her gaze at him.

  Crap. She’s about to get territorial. I have to jump in before she yells at him for touching me. Because ankles are so sexy.

  “Blain,” I say, giving her my stop-before-you-embarrass-me voice. “This is Woon. I hurt myself running in here, and he was helping.”

  Blain doesn’t uncross her arms or lower her chin. This is going to take real damage control.

  Woon slowly lets go of my foot and backs to his side of the tower. He gives Blain a quick bow, saying hello in Chinese and English.

  “I should go,” he says. “It was nice to meet you, Jenica.”

  Already? But I was just about to get over my shyness. “Likewise,” I respond, bumbling the word.

  He points behind Blain, who’s still standing in the entryway. “I’m going that way.”

  After all the rain, he’s still hiking on? Why?

  Blain moves to let him by, keeping silent. Her expression has softened a bit, but she won’t stop staring at Woon.

  “Could you help me up?” I ask Blain, not wanting to put too much weight on my foot.

  “Yeah,” she says, still watching Woon.

  After I gather my stuff, she puts my arm around her neck. We stand together, and I lean on her as we hobble out of the tower.

  Blain’s so much taller than me I know she must be hurting, but she doesn’t complain. I don’t complain either, even though it’s awkward and every bit of weight shoots pain up my leg. At our current pace it’ll take us three times as long to get back. I hope it doesn’t rain again.

  “We can rest,” I say when we get to the next tower.

  Both of us are panting. This isn’t going to work. I’ll have to try and walk on my own through the pain. It might make it worse, but we’re low on options.

  Blain pulls out her water bottle and sips while we catch our breath. I take a drink, too, hoping what I have left will survive the rest of the hike.

  “That guy,” Blain says after a moment of silence. “He looks familiar.”

  “Does he?” I ask, remembering the way she watched him leave.

  “Yeah.” Blain tucks her water bottle in her backpack. “I know I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

  Huh. That’s weird because I swear I would recognize him if I saw him again.

  Blain turns her head to glace at the way we came. “Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear.”

  I furrow my brow. “What?”

  “That dude who helped you is running back here.”

  My cheeks warm. “You better not be messing with me, Blain. He just left.”

  Blain shakes her head. “I wish I was. Take a look for yourself.”

  I lean around her, and sure enough, Woon is headed full speed in our direction. Weird.

  “Excuse me,” I say, pushing past Blain to the outside.

  Woon slows his pace when he sees me. He also smiles. Why does that make my stomach spin?

  “Woon?” My voice is a pitch too high, and I know it.

  He stops right outside my personal bubble. A little too far away.

  “You shouldn’t be putting weight on that,” he says, pointing to my ankle.

  I laugh. Where did he come from?

  “I know,” I say, because I’m smooth like that.

  If I were to speak my mind, I’d ask him why he came back to me. Luckily, my filter is working well enough for me to know I’m not the center of the universe. Maybe he just went the wrong direction and he was running because he had to double back.

  “I mean,” I correct, trying to get my bearings. “Blain has been helping me, but it’s slow going.”

  “That’s okay,” he says. “If you’d gone faster, I’m not sure I’d have been able to catch up to you.”

  So he was coming back for me. I hope the red in my cheeks isn’t showing, even though my face is on fire.

  “Well,” I respond with my usual flare. “You found me.”

  He smiles, looking at the ground, and then back up at me. “Yes, I did.”

  I’m pretty sure heart rates drop when resting, so I don’t know why mine is suddenly kicking into overdrive.

  “I was thinking,” he continues, rubbing the back of his neck. “You could help me.”

  My teeth snap together to hold in my immediate reply of, “Anything!” Instead, I let my sensible side rule by taking a second to think. I place my hand on the side of the tower entrance so I can put less weight on my foot. “What do you need help with?”

  He meets my gaze, clear brown eyes bright. “It might take me all day to get where I’m going. Which is fine, but it could be faster if I call someone. That’s when I remembered you have a phone. Do you mind?”

  My chest tightens as my heartbeat slows. My phone. Of course. All he needed me for was my phone. He had no other reason to return, and I was stupid enough to entertain the fantasy for one brief second. This is why I never let impulsive Jenica out of her room.

  “Of course,” I say, shaking my head as I reach into my bag.

  I hope my outside doesn’t look how my inside feels, because my inside feels like it’s weeping.

  My phone is conservative like me. It’s a smartphone, but an older model. I have a simple black case and an unassuming background. Unlike Blain’s, which is glittery and loud.

  I swipe it open, and halfway through punching in my code the phone goes dark. I forgot how quickly the flashlight drains the battery.

  “Crap,” I say, trying to punch it back to life. “Blain, let me see your phone.”

  My hand is behind me waiting for her to put it in my palm. When nothing happens, my gaze travels to her face. She’s pouting.

  “What?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

  Blain pulls her arms to her chest and turns sideways like she’s scared I’m going to hit her. “I left my phone at the dorm.”

  So typical of Blain. I don’t even know why her parents bought her such an expensive one. She always forgets it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to Woon.

  He won’t look at me, and it’s making me feel small. I should be used to it since I’m only five-four, but it stings.

  “It’s okay,” he says, but his actions say otherwise.

  I can’t believe I’m about to tell him this, but I hate that he’s hurt. “If you really need a phone, you can come back with us and we’ll get you one.”

  “No,” he says while shaking his head. “It’s too risky.”

  Risky? The way he says that word makes me think he’s in trouble. Maybe it’s better if we part ways. I’d rather not rock the boat.

  I point behind me even though he’s not looking in my direction. “Blain and I really need to get back, so...”

  “Yeah,” he says, nodding his head. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  That’s it then. There’s nothing more to say.

  I try to turn around, but it proves difficult with one foot. Habit kicks in and I put my injured ankle into normal walking position. I’m not ready for the pain, and I end up over-correcting my balance, which throws me backward rather than keeping me upright.

  I’m going to fall and I have no idea how to stop it. My arms circle the air like I’m trying to fly, but I’m obviously not built for aerodynamics. I can just picture my face turning into a #fail gif meme.

  Before my head can hit the bricks, arms surround my waist, my back pressing into muscle behind me. I turn my head to see Woon’s face right next to mine, a hint of dimple o
n his cheek.

  I can feel everything. The definition in his chest, the grip of his arms around me, his breath on my skin. He smells like rice, honey, and spices. It reminds me of home.

  There’s always a moment when eye contact goes from nice to awkward, and the second I hit that limit I look away. Rationality dictates that Woon should let go of me. He needs to get to wherever, and I have to go back to the dorms on a bad foot.

  The only things I know about him is that he can make a lamp from simple things, and he’s in shape. Must come with his athletic career, whatever that may be.

  Rationality, however, seems to be something Woon isn’t aware of. He slides his hands across my stomach, and I suck in as goosebumps tickle from the point of contact up my body. His fingers grip my hips as he slips his head under my arm. Hope I don’t stink.

  “You need to stop trying to walk on that foot,” he says, laughter in his eyes.

  The only thing going on in my head is brain static. I’ve been completely paralyzed by Woon. I pride myself on my smarts, but right now I don’t know how to speak. For once, I’m glad my day isn’t going according to plan.

  Tainted Memories

  “I really shouldn’t,” he whispers to me. “But I’ll help you get back to the buses.”

  “Okay,” I squeak out, the fuzz in my thoughts keeping me from saying anything more.

  “Blain,” Woon calls. “Why don’t you get on her other side so we can get you back faster.”

  Yes. Good idea. That way I won’t have to lean so heavily on Woon. Then maybe I’ll be able to get a sentence together.

  “Wait,” Woon says as Blain starts to approach. “Do either of you have a hat or scarf or something? It would be better if I could hide my face.”

  Who has a scarf in August? It’s sweltering enough out here, especially with the humidity from the recent rain.

  “Sorry—” I start, but Blain cuts me off.

  “I have a baseball cap, but it’s purple.”

  “That’ll work,” Woon says. “Do you have sunglasses too?”

  “Only if you like rhinestones,” Blain replies.

  Woon raises his eyebrows. “I’m not averse to them.”

  Who is this guy?

  Blain puts her accessories on him, and I can’t hold back my snickering. He looks adorable in that get-up.

  “Shall we?” I say as Blain supports my other side.

  This is so much easier with Woon helping. He’s pretty much carrying me through most of this hike, and he’s not even breaking a sweat. I would think he’s a weightlifter, but his muscles aren’t bulging like guys who spend too much time at the gym. He’s not a skinny noodle either. There’s no apt description for him other than perfect. Which puts him miles out of my league.

  “Let’s rest for a bit,” Woon says when we can see the crowd from a distance.

  “I’m gonna sit.” Blain points inside the nearest tower.

  I nod, supporting myself on the wall. Since she’s doing most of the work I should let her have the stairs.

  Woon comes next to me, leaning over to look at the landscape on the other side.

  I share my water with him because he doesn’t have anything. Who hikes that far out without a pack? Especially if he was planning on hiking all day.

  Even with his eyes covered by the sunglasses, I can see the worry in his brow as he looks towards the exit.

  “What are you running from?” I ask. It’s just a guess, but it makes the most sense.

  He gulps the last of my water down, still not looking at me properly. I wait as he breathes. Locks of his silky hair get picked up by the wind.

  “Bad guys,” he says in all seriousness.

  I laugh, but he doesn’t join me.

  “What kind of bad guys?” I prod, resting the side of my face on my fist.

  His eyes flit to mine then back to the view. “The kind nice girls shouldn’t get involved in.”

  My spine straightens as I twist around to put my back to the wall. Of course he already has me pegged as a teacher’s pet. He’s not wrong, but all the excitement had me hoping he’d see me differently.

  I know I’m the stereotype for an Asian girl with no looks. If I don’t have my nose in a book, I’m probably still thinking about facts. I’m never the party girl. And I’m certainly not the type to get caught up with a bad boy. Sometimes I wish people could see me for who I am. I’m not sure what that is, but it’s more than a bookworm.

  “Honestly,” he says, still studying the view. “If I can make it on a bus back to Beijing, my life might be saved.”

  That sounds ominous. Is he for real?

  “Enough about me,” he continues, straightening up. “We should get you back.”

  This time, when he puts his arm around me, the mood has shifted. I’m not very good at comforting people, but I give him a gentle friend-zone squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you back.”

  He smiles, but there’s no feeling behind it. “I hope so.”

  We hobble over to Blain who takes my other side. She keeps shooting me glances and tipping her head at Woon while raising her eyebrows. In best friend, speak it means are-you-into-him?

  I open my eyes wide in response, clenching my jaw. That means, you’re-embarrassing-me-stop.

  Woon gets jittery as we enter the crowd. His head is hung low and he’s walking closer to me than he was before. I shift position to help cover his face. If he really is in trouble, I should do what I can. Unless he’s a criminal.

  Oh gosh. What if he expected me to recognize him because he’s been on the evening news or something? Or maybe there are wanted posters hung around Beijing. What if my first instinct was right and I’m aiding and abetting a murderer? He did say bad people were after him.

  Then again, I don’t see hardened criminal anywhere in that sweet face of his. It’s not like he’s asking me to hide him. If we get on the bus and head back to the city, we can separate then. If he’s wanted by the police, I doubt he can hide there.

  His grip on my waist tightens as he passes the outdoor stage. Whatever band was there is packing up, twenty burly security guards standing around them with nothing to do but look intimidating.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say to him. “We’re almost there.”

  “Yeah,” he responds, but his hold doesn’t loosen.

  We wait in a line of people to board, Woon not looking up once. When we’re at the front, Woon lets go of me to get in the bus first, and then helps me after him.

  The next thing happens so fast, it’s a blur. All it takes is one look—the second his head pops up to see the bus driver, I can tell it’s over.

  “Maximus!” she shouts. “Is it really you?”

  Woon makes shushing motions, but it’s too late. A few heads have turned and then people are rushing us.

  Screams fill the air, with girls crying for Maximus who I guess is Woon. He tries to push past the crowd to get on the bus, but they push back. I’m suffocating in a sea of bodies. I would fall down, but there’s no room to move.

  If Blain didn’t have a firm hold of me, I’d be afraid to lose her.

  Just as quickly as the crowd descends on us, they flee at the sound of whistles. Woon takes the opportunity to jump on the bus, but the security guards from the music place grab him and drag him off. Blain’s sunglasses fall in the dirt, and I catch Woon’s gaze one last time before he’s being shoved into a bus with CSTAR written across the side.

  “What the crap was that about?” Blain says.

  I shake my head, my nerves still on edge. “I have no idea.”

  ***

  Blain slaps a magazine in front of me. “I knew it.”

  The semester starts in two days and I’m busy reading all of the syllabi so I can schedule my study time. We didn’t get to do what Blain wanted because of my foot, which has healed enough for me to walk slowly.

  “Knew what?” I say, not glancing up from highlighting.

  “That guy the other day,” she sa
ys, sitting on my creaky-spring bed.

  My face goes hot as I think of Woon, but I try to swallow my emotions. I wish I could’ve done something more to help, but a petite girl like me has nothing on burly dudes in suits.

  “Woon?” I say, pretending I don’t care, even though I’m itching to see that magazine.

  “Maximus,” Blain corrects. “I knew I’d seen him before. He’s on the cover of Beijing’s biggest gossip rag.”

  I toss the syllabus I was staring at and pick up the thick glossy volume. There’s no point in concentrating anymore.

  “This is Woon?” I say, pointing to the guy on the cover.

  His shirt is half open, eyes lined black, and hair styled up out of his face. He looks like he belongs on that cover. Nothing like the guy I met.

  “Read it!” Blain says.

  I’m not perfect at reading Mandarin, but Blain is worse when she’s nervous. She can study well, but in real life it’s harder. MAXIMUS is written in bold across the bottom of the page in English with the phrase “hottest new China star.” Below it, in Chinese characters.

  I flip to the contents, trying to get there quickly.

  “Well?” Blain says, her fidgeting legs racking at my nerves.

  Holy.

  I tip the volume so Blain can see. There’s a half-page picture of Woon lying on his side, elbow to the ground and head propped in his hand. He’s wearing a navy blue knit suit, and it looks amazing on him. His tie is just undone with the top bottom unhooked. I think I’m drooling.

  “Wow,” Blain says. “He looks hot.”

  As if I needed her to tell me.

  I scan the article and start reading when it gets to the meat of the story. “In a bold move, Maximus has left his Korean agency and Speeders—one of the top groups in all of South East Asia. Rumor has it, he’s joined forces with CSTAR for a solo debut and a leap up in his acting career.”

  I raise my eyes to see Blain’s reaction, but she’s on her phone. How can she not freak out about this? As far as I saw it, CSTAR kidnapped him. If this article is true, why was he running?

  “What are you doing?” I say to Blain, trying not to explode.

  Blain scrolls furiously. “I’m searching him. What else do you think I’m doing?”