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I jumped, somehow managing to poke myself in the face with my pen. I hissed, slapping a hand to my cheek.

“Ooh, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Someone sat down next to me as I was rubbing my cheek. It took me a moment to stop blinking and wipe the ink from my face before I turned to look at the person who had almost made me poke an eye out.

I recoiled from the smiling woman.

You would have thought that I’d be totally over the concept of celebrities – being surrounded by five of them almost every day – but somehow being next to one I hadn’t done shots of soju with was a very different experience.

“That’s you, right? Kaiya Thompson?”

“Y-yes,” I stammered, and then cleared my throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

The woman held out her hand. “Harlow Harris.”

I took her hand, clasping it briefly, embarrassingly aware of the ink stains on my fingers.

“You wrote an article about me.”

My heart stopped, and my brain did this mental Rolodex thing where it flipped through all my past articles, searching for anywhere I might have said anything bad –

“Oh!” I exhaled heavily as my mind caught up, and I remembered the defence piece I’d written last month. “Oh, yes, sorry, yes, I did.”

Harlow’s eyes crinkled at the sides and her smile softened. “Why are you apologising? It was probably the kindest thing anyone’s ever written about me.”

My shoulders relaxed a little, and I felt a pang of sympathy. “Habit,” I said.

“I saw your name on the roster for today, and I had to come find you. To say thank you,” she said, smiling at me.

I blinked. “You really don’t need to do that.” I held up my hand, but she surprised me by reaching for it, holding it briefly and gently squeezing it between hers before letting go.

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “You don’t know how many people came for me over that whole thing. I broke up with my boyfriend, and the whole world attacked me for it.”

I shook my head incredulously, baffled and disgusted all over again.

“Tell me about it,” she sighed, seeing my reaction. “Hey, can I buy you a drink after this? As a thank you?”

“You really don’t need to,” I repeated.

“I know,” she said quickly. “I’d like to. If you don’t have any plans, that is. I imagine this gig probably keeps you busy.” She grinned, looking behind me. I followed her line of sight and noticed the five members all lining up in the corridor, bookended by a handful of managers, and showrunners.

Briefly my eyes landed on Jihoon. He was watching me and he looked... I couldn’t tell exactly. There was something unguarded about his face, some warmth to his eyes I didn’t know the cause of. A faint smile tugged up the corner of his lips for a moment before his eyes met mine, and the smile widened, his expression immediately turning into something that made my stomach clench. I turned back around, and Harlow was watching me.

“Sorry, yes. They do. Keep me busy, I mean.” I laughed nervously like I was late to the joke.

“You do that a lot?” She tilted her head, earrings clinking softly.

“Do what?”

“Apologise.”

“Oh.” I was taken aback by the blunt question. “It’s a British thing,” I sighed. “Hardwired into me.”

Harlow laughed politely. “So how about it? Drink after the show?”

I bit my lip, debating. I thought about saying ‘no’, but then I couldn’t come up with any good reason to, so –

“Sure,” I said slightly breathlessly, feeling like I’d just been invited to a party by the coolest girl in school. “Why not?”