by Riina Y T
Ky grinned when I told him I liked it. “Did you know three-fifths of an octopus’s neurons are not in their brain, but in their arms, wherefore each arm has a mind of its own?”
As always, this tickled a laugh out of me. “Dude, that’s weird.” I shoved him playfully. He caught me by my arm and ran his hand down until he could wrap his fingers around my wrist again. “I did not know, and neither did I need to know that.”
Ky snickered and pulled me closer, then kissed me on the lips, right there in the middle of a busy street in Seoul. My heart fluttered. It was a good thing hardly anyone would recognize us here. Not that a bunch of teenagers with their phones out would’ve stopped us. Much.
“Come on, we’re in everyone’s way.” He tangled his fingers with mine and together we walked leisurely down the street. Every now and then Ky glanced over, smiling as we held hands.
A tiny, traitorous part of me hadn’t believed we’d make this whole dating, being a couple thing work. It had haunted my dreams for a while, and I’d been certain we’d make it last a month, tops. Ky’d proved me wrong over and over, reassuring me when I lost hope. He’d been strong when I hadn’t been and shown me how much we’d lose if we gave in to fear. Perhaps the world was indeed progressing, or we’d just been ridiculously lucky, because as it turned out we needn’t have worried as much, and I knew despite his brave façade, Ky’d had his fair share of dark thoughts as well.
But now, five months after our first official photo as a couple, which we’d shared on Instagram with a caption that left nobody guessing, it felt like there was not a single person in the universe who didn’t know about us. Nobody on social media anyway. As expected, a lot of people seemed to have an opinion about it too—for good or ill. Most of our fans were pretty cool about the fact we were dating, if slightly obsessive about the whole thing. We tried to ignore the bigots and zealots as best as we could. Everyone knew the Internet was a crazy place.
“Coffee?” I asked Ky. He nodded enthusiastically. Looking around, I spotted a woman pushing a stroller out of a cute pavement café a few feet down the street. “Let’s go check out this place.” Slipping an arm around Ky’s waist, I tugged him in the direction of the café. Inside, we were greeted by more K-pop and the beautiful chill of the air conditioner. The heat outside made my shirt and shorts stick uncomfortably to my skin, and I’d felt the same dampness on Ky. I didn’t know how it could be this humid so early in the day.
I found an empty table all the way in the back and had just replied to an email from Ky’s mom, confirming the date and time of our return flight—she wanted to double-check so nothing went wrong with the surprise party we were planning for Ky’s birthday next month—when Ky appeared, carrying a tray with two white mugs and couple of pink and brown donuts on a plate. He fired up the notebook he always carried with him and settled down next to me, the worn sofa dipping under his weight.
“Dude, you might wanna lay off those donuts,” I teased. Ky faked a whine and bumped into me with his shoulder.
“Shut up,” he said and I snickered. Ky started typing away at his computer then, and I knew he’d be absorbed completely by whatever he was mixing or writing within the next minute, so I let him be.
After we both had a bite to eat and downed half of the sweet concoction, I opened Instagram and started browsing through my feed. It wasn’t lost on me how this had become as much of a habit as drinking coffee, despite not loving the taste. I preferred herbal teas or juice but wouldn’t say no to the occasional latte or cappuccino.
I instantly grinned when a shot of Ky, Luke, and Parker popped up. I’d taken the photo during our rehearsals a few mornings ago. It showed the guys in various stages of undress, goofing off in our dressing room. Dorks.
I clicked on the Moving Insignia account and my screen filled with images of my best friends, and not only were they some of the most incredible moments captured in time, but they were wonderful memories. Nearly four thousand posts, going back five years, with every photograph telling a story. I was sure I could remember each and every one of them. Stories, not pictures—my memory wasn’t that good.
Last night Mark, who managed our band’s Instagram account, had uploaded a bunch of fancy black-and-white photos of everyone. As I scrolled through them now my eyes caught one of Ky on stage during sound check, wearing a silky shirt with the top two buttons undone, his gold chain peeking through the fabric. That familiar warmth started spreading through my belly as I studied the picture. He’d sunk both hands into his too long hair, a faraway look on his face and his favorite guitar slung around his neck. I wondered if I would ever get used to these feelings of wonder and love rising in my chest whenever I looked at Ky. Knowing it wasn’t one-sided any longer made me want to shout and jump with joy.
“What’cha doing?” Ky startled me out of my thoughts. He’d moved closer at some point. I felt his arm brush mine as he continued to type away on his computer, his leg touching mine.
“Just looking through our photos,” I said and continued to scroll down the feed. Ah. A photo of Ky, with a pouty smile, giving the camera a peace sign. Once again, the gold chain with the round pendant I’d gotten him in celebration of our new album stood out, resting against a soft-looking black sweater, behind him the light green walls of a dressing room, adorned with a blue abstract painting. I remembered that venue— Prague had been incredible!
“Still jet-lagged?”
“You know it.”
“Man, I’m hungry.” As if on cue, Ky’s stomach rumbled loud enough for me to hear.
I laughed. “We just ate, literally less than twenty minutes ago.”
Ky bumped his shoulder into me, and said, “What can I say? You wear me out.”
I felt a flutter of butterflies in my gut when I met his smile. “Ha ha.” I wished. With all the traveling these days—we’d been touring and promoting our album since March—it had been a while since Ky and I had enough privacy—or energy, for that matter—to burn all those extra calories he’d been gobbling down between rehearsals, interviews, photoshoots, and concerts. Ky must have a crazy metabolism, since, despite my teasing, he hadn’t put on a single pound.
My gaze fell on a shot of the four of us on the beach in Malibu the first week of February. We were sitting on bright beach towels, dressed in swim trunks and T-shirts. Huddled together, we looked like a random group of college boys at the end of spring break. Luke had one arm around Ky, I was leaning into Parker, and at our feet sat Dana, Ky’s black-and-white bully mix, with a big doggy smile on her face, Ky and Parker’s hands resting on her back. Everyone looked happy to be there. As I recall, we’d just finished recording our latest album that had taken a little longer to produce even with all the catching up we’d done in December but had since become a massive hit.
Ky glanced down at the phone in my hands. “Damn, I miss that silly dog.”
“Dana’s the best.” I closed Instagram and bent forward to slide my phone onto the table. I leaned into Ky and rested my head on his shoulder. “Your parents are going to spoil her rotten.”
“She’d hate the tour bus.”
“And the airplanes.”
“You think she misses me?”
“Absolutely. And hey, you’ll see her soon,” I said and reached for Ky’s arm, thrilling at the simple touch, the feel of his chilled skin under my fingers. Ky closed his notebook, where he worked on new music, and slid it onto the table. Then he smiled and let me pull him back against the cushions. When our eyes met, I grinned. His highlighted brown hair was too long and messy, constantly falling into his eyes and generally not staying put, even with the help of the expensive product we’d received to show off on our Instagram page, which Ky and Luke had been more than happy to do. The dorks styled each other’s hair while I documented the whole thing on video for our tour diary. How that ended with a bruised arm, a split lip and Parker—who hadn’t been there for more than five minutes—covered from head to toe in eighty dollars’ worth of shaving cream is sti
ll a mystery to me.
“How excited are you for us to be finally living together?”
“Dude, we’ve been living together for years.”
I failed to keep a straight face, knowing exactly what Ky meant. His mom regularly sent us updates on the two places we’d singled out from afar since we started touring. Working with a real estate agent via Skype and through Ky’s parents while on the road was challenging, but we did it, and as soon as we were back in LA, we planned to check out the properties in person and hopefully sign the lease on the one we liked best. Both apartments were promising, in walking distance to the studio and our friends, as well as spacious enough for our instruments and Dana without being unnecessarily big. The one I favored—a studio!—had a jacuzzi. I’ve always wanted my own jacuzzi!
“Uh-huh, but now it’ll be only you and me.”
“I’m completely over the fucking moon!”
Just thinking about moving into an apartment with Ky made me giddy like a kid in a candy store. Now that we were officially a couple, it was kind of a no-brainer that we’d get our own space. We’d made many incredible memories in our current place, but we couldn’t wait to take another step toward the future Ky and I were picturing. Marriage wasn’t on our minds anytime soon—we were only in our mid-twenties—but we were both fully committed to each other and creating a family had to start somewhere. After five years together, I couldn’t imagine waking up one morning realizing us moving in together had been the biggest mistake of the century. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe we’d be happy and in love forever…but maybe we would. I was more than ready for the challenge.
“I’m glad,” Ky whispered. “The photos Mom sent the other day are too cool to be real. I’m dying to see the places in person.”
“I know, right? Almost surreal. I have to say, I’m kinda in love already with the jacuzzi…”
“I’m hoping we’ll get the one with the white granite kitchen countertops.” I loved the way his eyes lit up at the mention of a fancy kitchen.
“You think you’ll have enough free time to cook?” I raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help the smile from taking over. “In-between performing, press, and actually making new music, you’ll be lucky to get enough sleep. And if you’re extra lucky, some time with me.” I grinned. Also, if I’m not wrong, that place was the same as my studio with the jacuzzi!
“I’ll make time. I’m going to spoil you with late-night homemade dinners and all the Martha Stewart desserts you can imagine. I want to be the best boyfriend you’ll ever have.”
Aw! My heart was melting!
“You already are, Ky.”
Ky’s dreamy expression filled my chest with warmth and happiness. I was beyond excited about the direction our future was headed. I couldn’t have imagined it more perfectly. Ky easily pulled me into him, bumped our noses together, and pressed a quick kiss to my mouth. Not satisfied with the brief contact, I reached for his neck with both hands and tugged him back in. Smiling against his lips, I trailed my fingers through Ky’s hair and kissed him long and sweet. He smelled like the spicy hotel shower gel and the taste of vanilla cream from the donut lingered on his lips. I reveled in his body heat surrounding me, safe and comforting.
We pulled apart a moment later. Despite being in another country at the other side of the planet and hidden from the view of the baristas, the thought of being found making out like horny teenagers was a little unnerving. The staff probably wouldn’t appreciate that. Sometimes, with Ky, I just couldn’t help myself.
We finished our drinks in companionable silence and then continued our exploration of the city. After grabbing a bite to eat at a food vendor around the corner, we took a taxi to the Gyeongui Line Forest Park, which Google told us was built on 100-year-old train tracks that once led to North Korea. The scenery was beautiful, the weather nice. Just sitting there people watching was a lot of fun for a change. It was relaxing. And we even got to listen to fantastic piano players while soaking up the sun.
At the end of the morning, standing outside the entrance to our hotel once again, I took Ky’s hand in mine. “It’s back to business, I guess.” Facing Ky, I asked, “You ready for this?”
One of the more exciting points on our agenda for today was recording footage for our video diary on the Namsan Cable Car, which ran from the base of Namsan Mountain up to Namsan Seoul Tower. Apparently, it was a big hit with the tourists, but not so much with Ky, I figured.
Knowing what I was really asking—if he’d be okay riding the cable car—Ky gave me a dazzling smile and squeezed my fingers. “With you by my side, I’m ready for anything. Give me all the cable cars and helicopters in Seoul, I’ll ride them all.”
“Aw, I love you too.”
Leaning in, I stole a kiss. I’d really lucked out this time. Loving Ky was truly something. I didn’t need him to say the words because I knew he felt the same about me.
It was written all over his face—the private smile reserved for me, the sparkle in his eyes, and the many ways he made me believe I’d won the lottery of life.
There couldn’t be a better feeling in the world.
About the Author
Riina currently resides in Germany. She spent countless exciting days in the UK and US and lost her heart in Tokyo.
She would be thrilled if one day her stories could brighten someone’s day in the way those beautiful romances always lighten up her dull, everyday life. Riina is looking forward to sharing many more stories with the world.
When she doesn’t daydream about boys in love, and isn’t glued to her Kindle, Riina loves to travel the world and explore the unknown.
Email: [email protected]
Facebook: www.facebook.com/riinayt
Twitter: @notroyenolife
Website: www.riinayt.wordpress.com
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