“Thanks,” I mutter, all the blood that drained out of my head now zinging through me so fast it feels like I’m sprinting.
Heat flares where his body touches mine—our hips bumping each other, his fingers curled around my side—despite my already flushed skin. I peer over my shoulder to see most of the crew members, along with Sophie and the boys, watching us, and I’m struck with the desire for the ground to swallow me.
We inch our way down the dock. I search my thoughts for anything intelligible to say but come up with nothing. He doesn’t say anything, either, and I have to wonder if his body is buzzing like mine. Does he catch his breath each time I stumble into him or my hair brushes his cheek? By the time we make it to the camp of tents, I’m near hyperventilation. My body screeched to a halt before I fainted, and now it’s running on overdrive.
Jason deposits me in a plastic chair underneath one of the sideless tents and brings me another water bottle and a pack of cookies, along with the backpack he brought with him from the hotel this morning. And I’m struck with the realization that he’s being … helpful.
Helpful Jason.
Huh.
“You should rest for a while,” he says. “Are you sure you’re fine?”
“Yeah.” I wave away his concern. “I’m sure it’s just a virus or something. It’ll pass.”
He hesitates a moment, his eyes searching out mine. “I’m serious—just take it easy for a little while, all right?”
I force a smile, but my stomach somersaults. “Will do.”
He rifles through the backpack and pulls out his iPod. “Here, you can listen to this if you want to. I uploaded the songs you told me to research.”
I take it from him, making sure our fingers don’t touch. “Is any of your music on here?”
He frowns. “Yes.”
“The song this video is for?”
He nods. “In English, the title is ‘Love Story.’”
“Like the Taylor Swift song?”
One of his rare smiles cracks his reserved exterior, and I catch a glimpse of real emotion. Our gazes meet, and my chest tightens.
Jason backs out of the tent and turns back toward the docks. I watch him retreat, marveling at the amount of concern he showed me. Very un-Jason-like. Or maybe it is Jason-like, and I just haven’t seen this side of him before.
Filming continues for another few hours. Sophie comes to sit with me, and we chat about school, the fishy smell that makes us wrinkle our noses, and how long it will take for the crew to finish. After a few crackers and some medicine from the crew’s medic, my stomach’s settling.
Shooting ends with Eden setting up their instruments in the middle of the village and playing the chorus a few times.
As we all head back to the van, Yoon Jae falls into step beside me. “Are you feeling better?” he asks.
“A little, yeah. Thanks.”
“We were all worried.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, sorry. My blood sugar was really low, I think, and whatever I’ve got was making me light-headed. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty.”
We drop into silence as he slides open the van door. Yoon Jae holds onto my elbow and helps me in while I crawl into the back row, and he sits beside me. Sophie and Tae Hwa follow us, sitting in the middle row. Jason enters last. He looks back at me and Yoon Jae, his expression darkening a moment, then slides in next to Sophie.
I reach into my bag and pull out Jason’s iPod and offer it to him, my arm resting on the back of his seat. “Here. Thanks for letting me listen to it.”
He glances at my outstretched hand, then away. “Keep it for now,” he says, studiously not looking at me. “I don’t need it.”
“It’s fine, really. I’d rather talk than listen to it in the car anyway.”
His gaze slips to Yoon Jae for a moment, then snaps back forward again. “I think you already have someone to talk to.”
I lean back, stung. “I…”
He folds his arms across his chest and slides lower in his seat, closing his eyes. Like he could sleep in here with Sophie jabbering on at so high a decibel. I stuff the iPod back into my bag with unnecessary force and throw myself back against my seat, staring out the window at the red sun setting behind the mountains. He helps me to the tent, he smiles at me, and now he insults me? What is he, bipolar? I should really reevaluate my friendship with this boy.
We head back into town and make our way to the hotel. By the time we arrive, it’s dark, and I feel disgusting. Sand and dried sweat make up a thick film on my skin, and all I want is to take a shower and scrub it all off.
But Sophie pipes up with, “How long do we have before we need to leave?”
“We go eight thirty,” the driver says through his rolled-down car window.
“Wait, what?” I say.
Sophie glances down at the phone that’s permanently glued to her hand. “The band has a meeting with their manager tomorrow afternoon in Incheon, so we need to leave tonight.”
I check my watch. If we’re leaving at eight thirty, that gives me thirty minutes. Just enough time to throw my things together and take a quick shower. I sprint upstairs and into our room, peeling off filthy clothes before I even have the water in the shower running.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling on a pair of leggings, an oversize T-shirt, and some sandals. Not my best look, but it’ll have to do for an eight-hour road trip. I tie my hair into a loose bun and meet the others down in the lobby, where the boys are posing for pictures with the hotel staff.