“Ouch,” I say, rubbing my side.

She ignores me. “Unni, quick, quick, give me the poster!” she says, grabbing at my arm.

“Um… about that…” I hold out the ripped poster, hanging my head. “I accidentally ripped it in the café. I’m really sorry, Leah.”

For a second her face falls. But then she smiles, squeezing my hand. “It’s okay, Unni. It was an accident. Besides”—she whips out a roll of washi tape from the pocket of her skirt and starts ripping off pieces—“I came prepared.”

She patches up the poster at lightning speed and eagerly slams it down on the table in front of Jason. “Jason oppa, this is for you. I wanted to show you how far you’ve come from your YouTube days and how you captivated the world with your singing and your glorious hair.” She presses her hands together under her chin and beams. “I’m your number one fan!”

Jason pores over every corner of the poster. “I love it,” he says in awe. “You even added a sticker of the Toronto Raptors! I need to take a photo with this.”

He pulls out his phone and snaps a selfie of him with the poster. Then he smiles and waves Leah over. “How about a selfie of the two of us?”

Leah gasps, pointing to herself. “A selfie? With me?!”

She scrambles behind the signing table and leans in next to Jason, holding up a finger heart as he snaps picture after picture of the two of them. I hang back, watching the scene. My heart swells. I haven’t been able to give Leah much time since I started training to do this song with Jason, and she looks so happy right now—for that alone this trip was worth it.

Of course, it would be even better if I could take a look at some of these clothes while I’m here.

I’m about to slip away when Leah turns to me and says, “Unni, can I borrow your phone? I forgot mine this morning and I want some photos too!”

I hand her my phone and they take a few more pictures. I’m mortified as Leah starts calling out matching facial expressions (“Surprised face! Diva face! Now Jason Lee Number One Fan face!”). But Jason just does what she says, looking amused. Suddenly, he turns to me. “Hey, get in here. We should take a photo of the three of us.”

“Me? Oh no. No thanks. Nope.” I shake my head, hanging back farther. “This is Leah’s day.”

“I would love a photo of the three of us!” Leah squeals.

“See,” Jason says. “Leah wants a photo and it’s Leah’s day.”

She nods sagely. “He’s right. It’s Leah’s day and I’m Leah.” She runs over and grabs my arm, dragging me to stand between her and Jason. Jason passes my phone back to me and snaps a selfie on his own. Leah is cheesing, both her hands posed in finger hearts now. I smile as brightly as I can, but being this close to Jason is making my heart race. This was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

His arm is on mine and I sneak a glance at him, only to catch him looking right at me. He smiles. My stomach swoops.

Shit. Forget about heart racing; it’s practically flying out of my chest now. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Minjun smirking at us and I quickly look away from Jason.

“All right, that’s enough selfies!” I say a little too loudly.

“I’ll send them to you,” Jason says. “Let’s add each other’s numbers.” I hesitate, and he raises an eyebrow. “We should have each other’s numbers, don’t you think? We do work together.”

He has a point. Nevertheless, I roll my eyes at him as I unlock my phone and pass it over.

Behind us in line, a girl with green hair raises her voice. “You’re not the only ones who are here to see Jason, you know,” she says, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, we want to meet him too!” a fan wearing a black NEXT BOYZ concert T-shirt chimes in.

Her friend, who’s wearing a matching T-shirt in white, catches my eye and squints at my face. “Wait, isn’t that Rachel Kim… from the video? She’s the one who was singing with Jason!”

“Oh my god it is,” Black T-shirt says. “Rachel, I love your voice!”

I blush, flattered. My first public recognition! “Thank y—”

“Can I get a picture with you and Jason?” White T-shirt asks.

“Wait, I want a photo too!” the girl with the green hair cries.

“Rachel, Rachel! We love you!” The crowd starts to swell forward, people screaming my name from all directions. I smile nervously, taking another step back behind the signing table and putting an arm around Leah.

“Is that bitch really Jason’s girlfriend?” another person yells.

“You’re not pretty enough to date him!” screams another.

Whoa. This was cool for about two seconds, but it’s getting overwhelming real fast. The crowd is pushing even closer around the signing table, hands grabbing out to touch us, when Jason jumps to his feet. “Hey, cool it, everyone! Step back!”

His words get swallowed up in the chaos. One girl gets close enough to rip Leah’s poster out of her hands. “Hey!” I yell, trying to pull it back—but it’s no use. People are everywhere.

Suddenly, the NEXT BOYZ’s security team rushes over, surrounding me and Leah as they guide us through the still-screaming crowd of fans. I look back at Jason, his face crumpled and distressed despite the throng of girls chanting his name, before walking through the Style Dome doors.

“That was so wild,” Leah says as we’re walking to the subway afterward, her face shining with excitement. “I can’t believe some girl stole my Jason Lee poster.”

“Aren’t you upset about that?”

“What? No! It was awesome! We started a fan riot at the signing!”

More like a feeding frenzy. I grab her hand. “Come on, Leah. Let’s go home.”

* * *

Later that night, I’m lying in my bed, trying and failing to focus on my botany text—there’s a big class trip to Jeju Island coming up, and only people with grades above a 90 will be going—when a Kakao message pings on my phone. It’s from someone named Sweet Coffee Boy.

Jason.

Part of me wants to delete the messages and put my phone down, but my hand has a mind of its own and instead I find myself with a big goofy smile on my face as I scroll through all the selfies he just sent me. There’s a ton of him and Leah and then a whole series of the three of us together.

For Leah’s next poster ;)

I smile to myself, excited to show her the pictures in the morning.

My messages ping again.

Oh and…

One more photo pops up. My breath catches. Our faces fill the screen. It’s a selfie he must have snapped right at the moment we were looking at each other, his lips quirked up in a smile, my lips parted in surprise to catch his eyes on mine. My finger hovers over the delete button on my phone. I know I shouldn’t keep this picture—what’s the point? What if someone saw it and thought something was going on between us when there is definitely nothing going on between us? It’s just not worth the risk. But then one last message appears on the screen.

This one’s just for you. Good night, Werewolf Girl.

My lips spread into a smile before I even realize it.