“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Well, aren’t you just my knight in shining armor,” I say, exaggerating a Southern accent for dramatic effect.
Yoon Jae beams, but the sound of a snort travels from Jason’s general direction.
We’re almost back to the dorms when I spot a group of students congregating outside the dining hall, a dance song with a heavy bass riff sounding from the middle of the circle of bodies. As we get closer, I stand on my tiptoes and see two guys break dancing inside the circle, acrobatics and all. It’s like watching a dance show on TV.
“Hold on,” I toss over my shoulder, then push closer to see.
The boys inside the circle physically taunt each other, performing a dance move, then holding out their arms or getting in the other’s face. One of them has better footwork, the other better ground work, spinning on his head like a top, then walking on his hands. The song ends, and the crowd bursts into applause.
A second song begins, and another figure emerges into the circle, his movements jerky and in time with the beat. I figure out he’s dancing at the same time I realize his identity—Yoon Jae! He pops and locks like a pro, his body twisting and jerking into bizarre movements that he makes look effortless. The other two boys resume dancing, and the battle is on.
I sense Jason beside me, and I turn to him. “I didn’t know Yoon Jae could dance. Can all three of you move like that?”
“Just Yoon Jae,” he mumbles, his brow wrinkled in an uncharacteristic display of concern. “He wanted to be an idol.”
“A what?”
He clenches his fist and releases it, like he’s grasping for the right words. “A pop idol, uhh … a superstar.”
“How is that different from what you guys are now?”
“He didn’t want to be in a band. He wanted to be in a pop group that just sings and dances, doesn’t write music or play instruments.”
“Oh.” It finally clicks in my head. “A boy band.”
Jason shrugs one shoulder. “They make a lot of money here.”
We break free of the crowd, stepping a few yards away, and I can’t help marveling at the fact that he hasn’t shut down our conversation yet.
“So how did he end up in your band?” I ask. “It started with just you and Tae Hwa, right?”
“The record company chose him for us.” Jason’s gaze follows Yoon Jae, a sort of wistfulness in his eyes, like he’s … jealous? “Tae Hwa and I auditioned together, and the record label wanted another band member, so they assigned Yoon Jae to be our drummer.”
That explains Yoon Jae’s lack of passion in his performance the other night. Boy wants to be dancing up a storm, not keeping beats for a pop-rock band.
“He was mad we’re not dancing for the new video,” Jason mutters, and I almost don’t catch his voice over the cheering of the crowd.
I glance back at the dancers and see Yoon Jae mid–Michael Jackson moonwalk. Always a crowd-pleaser.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Jason doesn’t answer for a long time, and I think our momentary truce has been severed. But then he surprises me by saying, “We have a music video shooting next month. He wanted to dance, but I said no.”
“You’re shooting a music video?”
My mind spirals back to watching from behind the camera crew as Nathan and his band shot their videos. I doubt Eden’s video will have any big trucks, girls in cowboy hats, or beer kegs, however.
He jerks his chin down in a nod.
“Well, that will be fun!”
His lips twist into a smirk. “Says the girl who thinks we’re just a group of pretty faces instead of musicians.”
My cheeks burn, but I hold his gaze. I swallow the sarcastic retort that bubbles on my lips. Sophie would want me to be nice to him. Hold in the snark, Grace.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say, the humility burning my throat like acid. “It was rude, and I shouldn’t have said it.”
He tilts his head back and peers up at the sky, the stars dimmed by the lights of the buildings below us. “No, you were right.”
“What?” I gape at him.
“Our music,” he clarifies, emotionless. “It’s terrible.”
Yoon Jae breaks through the crowd, bumping into me in his hurry. His cheeks pink and sweat trickling down his temples, he grins at us.
“Sorry,” he says. “It looked like fun.”
“No!” I try to shake off the stupor Jason’s words threw me into and focus my attention on the cute boy who actually might enjoy my company. “You were great out there, and I’m sure all the fans loved it.”
His face gets redder. “Thanks.”
Jason takes off down the sidewalk without another word, over to where Sophie and Tae Hwa linger near their dorm. Yoon Jae and I hurry to catch up with him.
“We decided to watch a movie in Tae Hwa’s room,” Sophie says when we reach them. “Do you want to join us?”
I’m exhausted after that walk, but I don’t have many friends here. Playing nice with the ones I do have is probably a good idea.
“Sure,” I say.
Tae Hwa lets us into their building with his student ID, and we climb five flights of stairs—five!—to his room.
His room is just as small as mine and Sophie’s, but he has a TV, DVD player, and gaming system sitting on his desk. A guitar and a bass have taken residence in the only empty corner of the room, sitting up in their stands.