I'll Be the One Read online

  “So?” he asks.

  “Huh?”

  “You never answered my question.”

  “What question?”

  Henry reaches over to feel my forehead. “Are you okay?” he says, with concern that’d actually be convincing if it weren’t for his lopsided grin. “Your face is so red. I asked you which sauna room you wanted to check out first.”

  I swat his hand away, trying to ignore the fact that my face is burning hot again. “Hush! Let’s check out the Himalayan salt room. That’s a childhood favorite of mine.”

  Henry chuckles. “Okay.”

  Steve does a pretty impressive job of shielding both Henry and me as we move to the Himalayan salt room. As we pass, people call our names. I look up instinctively the first few times, before I finally manage to get myself to stop. It’s obvious they’re only calling us so they’ll have better photos.

  Fortunately, the room is empty, since everyone is outside trying to get a glimpse of Henry. Steve stands guard at the door so we can slip inside.

  The sauna looks exactly the way you’d imagine a Himalayan salt room to look, with pink salt blocks covering the entire space from floor to ceiling. Everything smells pleasantly clean, and I slowly breathe in the smell of the salts.

  The temperature indicator outside the sauna showed that it’s 102 degrees inside, but it feels even warmer with Henry by my side. I’ve only been to saunas with my mom before, and most of those occasions were filled with her complaining away about something or someone. With only Henry and me here, the silence in the room is palpable.

  Sweat slowly beads and drips down my face. I look down to see that gross stains have begun to form on my shirt underneath my armpits. Feeling self-conscious, I fold my arms against my chest. In the dim, steamy space, I can see just enough to make out Henry’s face.

  When our eyes meet, he smiles and holds out a towel.

  “Hey,” he says. “Do you know how to make those lamb towel hats that people always wear in Korean dramas?”

  Although I’ve seen them on TV plenty of times, I never actually learned how to make one because Mom probably would have said they looked foolish. When I explain this to Henry, he frowns and says, “Here. I’ll make one for you. Or try to, at least. I looked up how on my way here.”

  With quick, deft hands, Henry folds the towel in half and then does it again, until the towel is long and thin. He then carefully rolls up each side, so both ends are curled up like cute little ram horns.

  “Here,” he says. “Try this on.”

  It takes some adjusting to make the towel completely cover my hair, but when I’m done, Henry’s face lights up into one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen on him.

  “You look really cute,” he says. “I kind of want to take a picture of you right now.” He sees my expression and rushes on to say, “Not to post on Instagram or anything. But just to . . . capture this moment. The lighting is too dim for a decent photo, though.”

  Henry thinks I look cute? The compliment makes my heart skip a beat, but I don’t let my face show it. In middle school, a couple of boys called me cute and then laughed at me when I looked pleased. Henry looks genuine enough, but he probably just means I look cute at this specific moment in time. I think I look cute on most days, but I doubt anyone who dated someone as flawless as Melinda would go for someone like me.

  That’s when I remember how he’d suddenly stopped responding to my texts for several days before today. Part of me wonders if I should just leave it, but at the same time, I know it’s going to bother me later if I don’t ask Henry about it now. The fact that this isn’t the first time he’s ghosted me for a mysterious reason doesn’t help, either.

  “Why did you suddenly stop responding to my texts? I thought you were sick of me or something. And then I was really surprised when you texted me back today.”

  Henry’s easy grin drops from his face. He doesn’t even meet my eyes. “I . . . I guess I sort of panicked,” he says.

  “Wait, why?”

  He shrugs. I can see that he’s trying really hard to act casual.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been this close with someone. Not just physically but . . . everything else.”

  “What, because of the whole no-friends thing?”

  “Sort of.” His voice sounds strained and weird. It’s so different from its usual honey-like smoothness that it’s almost funny.

  “But weren’t you close with the people you’ve dated?”

  I think back to all those Instagram stories with Melinda. They looked pretty intimate in them, with so much kissing and hand-holding that it grossed me out sometimes.

  “Not really. When celebrities date . . . it’s not always because of some emotional connection. Far from it. A lot of it is superficial. For example . . .” Henry exhales sharply. “You were there when Melinda and I had a huge fight, right?”

  I nod, holding my breath. I still feel bad about intruding on their private moment, even though the cameras were also there.

  “Melinda and I should never have gotten together.” Henry cringes at the thought. “When we first became a thing, I had really low self-esteem. I was new to the industry, was new to modeling and all that, and, well, I guess I thought I was lucky that she even liked me, even though I knew she only liked me because I looked like a K-pop star.”

  “Ew, what?”

  “Yeah . . . she called me oppa and stuff. It was weird. But anyway, when we broke up, she basically told me that I was good for nothing because I just looked like a K-pop star but had no talent to support that. And then she went ahead and auditioned for this competition herself! The fight on the first day was because I was trying to get her to not participate in the competition. I knew she was only auditioning because she was fetishizing our culture.”

  I think back to the awkward kimchi moment I had with Melinda and shudder.

  “But you still protected her in the end,” I say.

  “Well, yeah. She may be a jerk, but she didn’t deserve to be featured on TV like that. Anyway, you and I aren’t like that. I—”

  Steve pushes open the door and yells in a very dad-like voice, “It’s time to come outside! You shouldn’t stay in one room for so long. It’s not good for you.”

  On our way out, I glance at Henry, expecting him to finish speaking. But he doesn’t.

  And because I’m too busy looking at him, I almost run into Tiffany and Lana, who are standing right next to the door. Lana giggles when she sees my lamb towel hat.

  “Oh my gosh,” she says. “Skye, that lamb hat is so cute. Did you make it yourself?”

  “No, Henry did.”

  Her giggles intensify.

  Even Tiffany looks like she’s trying hard not to smile. She wiggles her eyebrows at us.

  “Lucky you two had some alone time, huh?”

  I turn around to look at Henry, expecting him to look proud of himself. But he’s back to smiling that fake smile of his again.

  “I can make one for you,” Tiffany says to Lana as we head to our next sauna room.

  Lana beams and squeezes Tiffany’s hand almost imperceptibly. The small gesture makes me so happy and sad, all at once. Lana and Tiffany are such a cute couple, and it makes me sad that they can’t express their affection in Korean public places like a heterosexual couple can. Normally, I’m not a huge fan of PDA, but queer PDA happens so rarely that I wish it was more common.

  Steve does his best to keep people away, but even then, it takes us a few minutes to find another empty sauna room. Now that the surprise factor of Henry’s presence has worn off, a lot of people have gone back to doing what they were doing before he arrived.

  The second room we go into is covered with red clay bricks that feel pleasantly hot under my feet. As soon as we’re settled down on the mats inside, Tiffany starts making a towel hat for Lana. Lana giggles, and then sets her towel on the ground as well, and before I know what’s happening, they’re both making towel hats for each other.

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sp; “They’re so cute together,” I say. It’s only after the words leave my mouth that I remember who I’m talking to.

  Oh shoot. Henry doesn’t know about Lana and Tiffany being a couple. Panic and fear fills my head, but he just nods and says, “Yeah.”

  I glance at his face, looking for any signs of a negative reaction. He appears mostly amused, although there’s something else in his expression that I can’t place. Regret? Sadness? Whatever it is makes my heart ache, even though I have no idea what he’s thinking about.

  “Can we get patbingsu after this?” Henry asks all of a sudden, completely throwing me off.

  “What?”

  “Patbingsu. Korean shaved ice.”

  “I know what patbingsu is. I was just surprised. Wait, have you never had patbingsu, either?”

  “Nope. I always see people in K-dramas get patbingsu at Korean spas, and I’ve wanted to try it too.”

  That catches Tiffany’s and Lana’s attention. Tiffany groans.

  “Is there anything that you’ve tried before?” she asks.

  “I’ve had overpriced French food,” Henry replies. “And some of the best pasta around. My family doesn’t really eat Korean food. And if they do, it’s always very traditional and extravagant jeong-sik. The really gourmet stuff that kings used to eat.”

  “Rich-people problems,” Tiffany mutters, rolling her eyes.

  “Tell me about it,” Henry groans.

  “Let’s all share one big patbingsu!” exclaims Lana.

  We all laugh, because she’s so happy and excited that her voice comes out in a squeak.

  “Yeah!” I reply. “I’m down.”

  I look at Henry, and we both smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  AFTER THE SUGARY PATBINGSU, TIFFANY AND Lana pass out in a food coma on the heated spa floors, so Henry offers to give me a ride home.

  I’m still feeling a bit buzzy from all the chocolate and condensed milk, so I don’t notice that he’s been quiet for most of the car ride until he clears his throat.

  “So . . . Lana and Tiffany. They’re a couple, right? Like, they’re dating each other?”

  I glance up at the front of the car. Steve is listening to some comedy podcast at high volume, and both he and Portia are laughing along to the jokes. I doubt that they can hear us above the noise.

  “Yeah, they are.”

  I must look really nervous, because Henry holds his hands out in front of him. “Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against them. It’s just that . . . well, remember what Lana said about how she thought I was a jerk?”

  “I’m pretty sure she was just kidding,” I quickly say. This entire conversation is making me uncomfortable, like we’re talking about something that I’m not supposed to know about.

  “Nope. Lana probably already told you, but some of her friends went to my old school. I actually remember seeing her in a lot of my friends’ posts before we met today . . . back when we still followed each other on social media. And Harvard-Westlake is pretty small. So, she’s probably warned you about me. Am I right?”

  I suck at lying, so I nod and say, “Yeah . . . but this was before we got to know each other.”

  Henry laughs, but it comes out all sharp and bitter. “It’s fine. The rumors are true. Like I said before, I really don’t have any friends anymore. And it’s all my fault.”

  “What happened?”

  Wordlessly, Henry stares at me for a moment, like he’s debating whether or not he can trust me.

  “One of the guys at Harvard-Westlake,” he says at last. “He was my boyfriend.”

  I’m still processing his words when Henry adds, “I mean, I’m bi. I like girls, too. But at that time, I had a boyfriend.”

  Henry’s bi, I think. Like me. I have this sudden urge to high-five him, like I just found out that we’re both members of some exclusive club. But it doesn’t really seem appropriate right now, so I keep quiet and listen.

  “When I signed my modeling contract, my parents suddenly launched themselves into my life. They’d left me alone for the most part ever since I started going to Harvard-Westlake. I was alone in the States, they were back in Korea . . . it was really nice. But then, I became a ‘celebrity’ like them. I guess it’s understandable, since the Korean press found out about my modeling contract and went running with it. I had so many interviews and features online and on print, it was embarrassing. And suddenly, my parents wanted to be in control of everything. Even my personal life.”

  “Oh no,” I say. It hurts me how much I can see where this is going.

  “Things kind of exploded when they found out I had a boyfriend. They said I’d never make it big in Korea if everyone found out I wasn’t straight. I told them I was bi, that I liked both guys and girls, but that didn’t matter. They just said, ‘Well then, find yourself a nice girlfriend instead. Girls won’t develop crushes on you if they know you have a boyfriend. It won’t help your image at all.’”

  “Henry. I’m so sorry.”

  “No,” he says. Everything comes out in a quiet rush, like he can’t stop now that he’s started telling me everything. “You have nothing to be sorry about. And I don’t deserve the sympathy, either. I was extremely naive. I wanted to get my parents off my back, so I lied to them. I told them that I broke up with my boyfriend. It was fine for a while, but then, we got caught. Some girl took a picture of us kissing. My parents went berserk. They paid off the person who took the photo of us so she wouldn’t post it online. And then, they offered my boyfriend an outrageous amount of money so he’d break up with me.”

  “What?” I’m so mad that my voice comes out in a loud yell.

  Both Portia and Steve glance back at us. Portia lowers the volume of the podcast and asks, “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Sorry.”

  Henry waits until Portia turns up the podcast again before continuing. “It was a threat disguised as a bribe. My boyfriend, of course, completely lost it. And he had every right to. His parents found out, and they transferred him out of the school. Both our parents kept everything hush-hush, so our friends never learned about the details. But they knew something really bad happened, and that it was my fault. All of my friends were also friends with him, so. Yeah, I lost all my friends. That’s why I have no friends left.”

  Henry’s story makes me feel really sad. It’s a painful reminder of why I can’t date girls.

  “Lana and Tiffany . . .” I say. “Apparently they were both kicked out of their houses.”

  Henry sighs.

  “They’re okay now, though. They live together and, well, you saw them. They’re really cute. And happy.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad for them.”

  “Let’s not be douchey homophobic parents, yeah?”

  Henry raises his eyebrows. “Whoa, don’t you think it’s too early to be talking about kids?”

  I lightly punch him in the arm. “You know what I mean. We’re, like . . . the future of Koreans and Korean Americans, you know? We have to be better than our parents’ generation.”

  “Yup, definitely.”

  I wait a few seconds before saying, “I’m bi too.”

  He sits up immediately, a smile tentatively spreading across his face. “Wait, you are? That’s awesome.”

  And that’s that. Henry accepts me without a moment of hesitation. And I accept him, too.

  “I guess that makes us . . . what, bi squared?”

  “Bi squared,” he says with a smile. “I like it.”

  Chapter Thirty

  THE NEXT ROUND OF THE COMPETITION IS BRUTAL. Things really get ugly as people butt heads onstage, doing their best to win against each other. Since there are only ten people total in the vocals portion for this round, we all huddle up around the TV in the green room as we wait for our turn to perform.

  By some cruel twist of fate—or, more likely, the cruel whims of the judges—Mindy, mentored by Gary, and Isabel, mentored by Mr. Park, end up facing each other onst
age, even though they were partners in the previous round. Isabel wins against Mindy with a powerful song-and-rap combo that blows Mindy’s cute but otherwise unremarkable rendition of a Mamamoo song out of the water. When the judges select Isabel as the winner, Mindy runs from the stage crying.

  Lana, mentored by Mr. Park, is up next. Before she leaves, she gives my hand a tight squeeze.

  “Good luck,” I tell her as she goes out the door.

  I anxiously watch the TV as she goes up against Kevin Byun, a Korean American guy mentored by Gary who sounds impossibly more angelic than she does. This isn’t good! I think, even more so when Lana gets too nervous and overshoots a high note. I’ve never heard Lana make a pitch mistake before, but I guess that’s just how much pressure she’s under during her performance.

  When she gets eliminated, Lana looks so sad I want to run to the stage and give her a hug. But since I can’t right now, I send her a text filled with hearts and what I hope are words of encouragement instead. I’ll have to catch up with her later.

  A bunch of other drama happens, like when one of the singers admits to spying on the other contestant and choosing a song from the same artist so he could one-up his rival. We all expect the judges to disqualify him right away, but instead, the judges eliminate the other contestant, saying that the spying guy was, in Mr. Park’s words, “indeed better than the other individual.” A fight breaks out between the two guys and security has to escort them offstage.

  Finally, we’re down to the last four people who haven’t performed yet. It oddly feels like an “and then there were none” moment, as if we’re all getting picked off one by one. Sweat forms on my forehead, and I clench and unclench my fists to relieve some tension.

  Aside from me, there’s Melinda and two other people who I only know the faces of. Melinda doesn’t even look at me, or at any of the other competitors in the room. Instead, she resolutely stares ahead like she’s way above us. Appearance-wise, she definitely is on another level than anyone else. Her blond hair is curled in perfect ringlets, her skin is clear and actually dewy, and her eyes are rimmed with just the right amount of smoky eyeliner. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d had her makeup professionally done.