HeartBeat (Saranghaeyo Book 2) (10 page)

"Don't forget you get an interview with Clarice M. too!” Leila reminded him, excited about meeting the famous VJ in person.

"Oh my god, they used to do TRL here!" a voice proclaimed when she recognized the set.

Several of the dancers whipped out their phones and snapped photos.

"This is so going on my Twitter feed," Camryn, a dark-haired and green-eyed dancer paired with Kwan said.

"Hope the cameras don't make me look fat," said Janine who was paired with Young.

Selena, the other black female dancer in the group who was paired with Kibum, looked at the slighter dancer and said, "I just hope they get all this bootyliciousness. And I hope whoever does makeup has done black women's faces before. I don't want to look ashy on camera."

They were soon escorted to separate ready rooms where hung racks of black skinny jeans in various sizes, black racerback tank-tops and matching black high top sneakers, matching what T4L would be wearing. 

The room was a hive of activity and thankfully there were a couple of black makeup artists who knew how to work magic with high-definition, sweat-proof foundation. Leila’s short hair was also blown out and styled into an edgy Mohawk-esque style.

Once inside the green room, the reality of what was about to happen slammed face-first into Leila and she began to fidget.

There was nothing ‘small’ about performing live in front of an audience
and
having millions of people—including her mom and her sisters—watching every move she made.

What if she messed up? Missed a step? Television was a lot different from the stage.

“Hey, you okay?”

As if sensing her anxiousness, G.K. brought her a bottle of water and a ready smile.

“I can’t believe I’m so nervous.”

G.K. smiled gently. “We all go through that before a show sometimes. Remind me to tell you about the first time Boom got onstage.” He wiggled his eyebrows comically. “You’re going to be alright.”

G.K.’s assurance made all the difference. Thankful for the pre-show pep talk, Leila blew him a kiss.

 “Yo G.K.” Young hollered. “We’ve got to warm up, we’re singing live, remember?” Before he left, G.K. gave Leila a quick handshake which appeared normal save for the length and the energy that surged between them.

***

As soon as the music started all traces of nervousness fell away and Leila was on it. She gave two-hundred percent, not caring if there were people or cameras watching. She was a professional and on that day, she proved it.

She danced behind, beside and in front of G.K. as he sang into his wireless mike and danced with her. The live audience screamed, hollered, hooted and rocked out to the up-tempo, hip-hop flavored numbers. Leila remembered Michael's admonishment to "either bring it or go home" and no way was she planning to go home.

Later, back in the green room, the dancers wound down from the adrenaline rush with water, fruit juices and sandwiches far too fancy to be from Subway. They watched T4L's interview on monitor screens.

Selena dabbed water on her face with a towel. "That was crazy! That Kibum's got rhythm!"

"Those fans are crazy," added Camryn, nibbling on a sandwich. "Who knew Korean pop music was so popular here."

Leila drank a bottle of apple juice as she watched the interview in silence, a slight frown marring her features.

 Was it just her, or was the far-too perky Clarice getting a little too close to G.K.? The young woman had planted herself next to him and seemed to be directing most of the audience questions at him alone, even when she was addressing the entire group. When she laughed at something he said, she placed a hand on his arm. Leila ground her teeth in agitation.

An ugly feeling reared its head and Leila didn’t like it.

She was confused. She didn’t get jealous, never had. But this was definitely jealousy balling up inside her chest. She wanted to stomp out on that stage and forcibly remove Clarice's hand from anywhere near G.K. Perhaps rip out some hair for good measure. In disgust and bewilderment, she turned away from the interview, not wanting to see any more.

I am definitely sprung.

*** 

The interview had gone surprisingly well for their first time on American broad- cast television. They'd been stunned by the sheer number of people who were already familiar with their music despite the fact that they'd known that there were rabid fans in the states as many of their live shows attested to. The amount of questions from excited fans from all over the world continued to astound them.

As they stepped off of the set, G.K. went to search for Leila in the green room. One of the makeup artists told him she was in the dressing area, changing back into her regular clothes, so G.K. decided to wait for her back in the green room. When she entered he smiled as he always did, but that faded quickly upon seeing the look on her face.

 “Leila, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing,” she muttered under her breath. "Aren't we supposed to meet everyone here?"

G.K. frowned at the blatant lie, "Obviously there is a problem. You're not worried about your performance are you? You were amazing!"

"No I'm not worried about the damn performance," she snapped. G.K. took a step back in shock. He heard her sigh. "Look, I'm just tired, that's all."

When he tried to approach her, she side-stepped him, and G.K. grew even more concerned. “Where are you going? Do you not want a ride home anymore?”

“No,” she answered, continuing her one word answers. G.K. was starting to panic, what had happened? She had been fine before they’d gone onstage. G.K. knew better than to let her leave angry at him.

“Come on Leila, let us drive you home, okay?” When she said nothing, he added, “Please, for me?” She hesitated before nodding, “Fine.”

The car ride to Leila’s loft was done in relative silence, on her part. The guys had talked all around her, still happy from their great performance and interview on the show. Leila remained quiet, thoughts running through her head. 

Leila knew she was being ridiculously unprofessional. What was the man supposed to do, rebuff the interviewer on national television? And it wasn’t like the young woman had done anything different for the MTV audience. It wasn't like anyone knew that she and G.K. were dating, Leila wanted to make darn sure of that, but for vastly different reasons.

The jealousy was uncalled for, and that upset her. The jealous girlfriend thing had never been her schtick. And dammit, she was pissed at G.K. for making her feel that way.

She practically leapt out of the van when it stopped in front of her apartment.  G.K. followed her.

“Leila, wait! What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?”

She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She knew the guys were concerned and she was behaving like a drama queen.

It had nothing, and yet
everything
to do with him. This was the reason why getting involved with G.K. had been a bad idea. He wasn't some arrogant heartbreaker who got off on how many women they could sleep with.  The guy hadn’t had a relationship before. He treated her like someone who mattered to him, and frankly that scared her.

When he caught up to her Leila exhaled. She turned to talk to him, “I’m not mad at you, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.” She could tell from the look on his face he didn't believe her one bit.

“Then why are you so upset? You spoke barely two words on the way here and then you practically jump out of the van like someone's chasing you, so what's going? on?"

There was no way of telling him without sounding like
that
girl, but from the resolve on his face--and the fact that somehow he'd managed to grab her house key from her hands--he wasn't going anywhere until she spilled her guts.

 He confirmed that. "I'm not leaving until we straighten this out." He walked over to the waiting van, said something to his band mates in Korean and slid the door shut.

Resigned, she nodded. "Fine. Let’s go inside though. I don’t want the world to have to hear my ridiculous problems.”

***

Inside her apartment Leila motioned him toward the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable,” she announced.

G.K.’s took in the open living space while Leila disappeared into one of the enclosed areas that he assumed was her bedroom.

There were potted plants all over the loft, all of them healthy, so someone had a green thumb. The hardwood floors were stained dark with a chocolate area rug in front of the suede sectional. A large plasma screen hung on a wall; beneath it was a low cabinet that contained neatly arrayed rows of DVD's and had a plethora of pictures that sat along the top.

 He plopped down, bone-weary on the couch as he waited for Leila to reappear. All kinds of horrible scenarios raced through his mind.

"Would you like something to drink," she asked while padding silently to the kitchen. "I have water, natural grapefruit soda, green tea and white wine."

"I'll have green tea."

She brought the drinks over to the table and flopped wearily on the opposite side of the couch. He watched her fiddle with the hem of her oversized Zoo York sweatshirt.

"Where’s your roommate?"

Leila shrugged. "Knowing her she's probably auditioning for something crazy like a wrestling burlesque show or as roller derby doll. She always manages to find the oddest auditions. She claims to have ‘sources’ but I have yet to meet any of them.”

G.K. laughed, “Isn’t that the point of sources, they are supposed to remain anonymous?” Leila made a face, not answering his question. Reaching over to the coffee table, she grabbed the remote.

“Do you want to watch TV? Or a movie? We have a million DVDs…”

               He stopped her rapid fire questions by shaking his head, “No not right now, maybe later, I want to know what upset you earlier.” Leila groaned, “I was hoping somehow you had forgotten about that.” G.K. laughed, “Nope, not a chance.”

              
He really isn’t going to let this go
, Leila thought. "Fine, but if you laugh at me I'm going to kick you out of here.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “If you must know I got a little upset over your interview, okay?"

His brow knotted in confusion. “The interview? Why?”

Leila looked away, feeling embarrassed, “I got a little upset about Clarice flirting with you.”

G.K. was even more confused. “Flirting? She wasn’t flirting with me.”

Leila rolled her eyes at him.
“Oh you’re so funny G.K.”
she said imitating the young host in a theatrical high pitched voice while pretending to place a hand on his arm.
“What is your ideal type of girl?”
as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. It was ludicrous, she was all in your face."

It took less than a nanosecond to dawn on him. "You were jealous,” He said almost reverently.

She grabbed a throw pillow and lightly hit it. "Yeah, so what! I was jealous and it's your fault. We could have just been dance partners but oh no! ‘My name is G.K and I think it’s a good idea to get into a relationship with my backup dancer who comes from a completely different world than I do and makes her feel things that she shouldn't!’ I hate being some psycho jealous type girlfriend and I blame you!" He heard a loud 'thwack' as she punched the pillow harder.

G.K. didn’t know why, but the thought that she admitted to being jealous made him stupidly happy. Not happy that she'd been upset, but happy because she felt so strongly for him already that she didn’t even want other women to touch him.

He was sliding down the slippery slope toward love and G.K. was ready to strap on his skis and head downhill all the way.

He gently grabbed the hand that had become so violent with her pillows. "Would you feel better if I told you that I wanted to rip that guy Terrence's arm off when he was dancing with you?" He grinned ruefully. "I suppose we're both kind of  possessive…”

Leila was surprised by his admission. "Yeah. I guess we are."

There was nothing else to say except, "You're sitting too far from me," and G.K. slid over to Leila and honed his mouth on hers, kissing her with blatant desire. His tongue swept into her mouth, tangling with her own. For some wondrous moments he was content to leisurely explore the mouth that had exasperated him for twenty minutes.

He was no longer tired.

Before he eased her down, he lifted his head. "I'd rather kiss you than fight with you."

Leila playfully tapped the tip of his nose. "Works for me. But the next hoochie who starts feeling you up is gonna get checked."

"Hoochie? That's a bad thing, right? Don't worry, I'll stay far away from one of those."

She laughed as he gently pushed her down against the cushions, settling his lean body against hers. He nipped and licked his way down the side of her neck, Leila gasped loudly, threading her fingers into his messy brown hair. 

Leila’s fingers rubbing against his scalp sent a shockwave of pleasure through his body to settle in his groin. Reflexively he thrust his hips against her denim-clad ones. She responded in kind and G.K. growled at the delicious friction between them. He gained more confidence when his hand palmed her breast, thumb moving over distended nipples through her thin t-shirt and bra. The gasp and moan that she rewarded him with made his lips slant into a wicked smile.