The Scandal Queen

Episode Four

I collapse onto my bed, the cool sheets a relief after an evening of nonstop excitement. My little trophy sits on the dresser, glinting under the soft light. My mind's still buzzing, not just from the win but from everything else; the cameras, the questions, the host…

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I sit up, frowning. It’s almost midnight. Who the hell is calling me? The screen lights up with an unfamiliar number. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I answer.

“Hello?”

“Iseul, hi! It's Jaewook.”

I blink, confusion and a surprising amount of excitement flooding through me. “Jaewook? How did you get my number?”

“Uh … I may have asked around a little,” he replies, sounding the slightest bit sheepish. “Should I not have?”

“No, it's just. A surprise I guess?” I smile slightly, even though he can't see it. “What prompted this?”

“I don't know. I just … I guess I felt something when I saw you in person. I want to know you, to talk with you.”

His sincerity is obvious. I’ve learned to spot bullshit a mile away, but this feels different. His words don’t come across as empty flattery.

“I don't know what to say,” I admit, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“You can start by telling me how your night went. How did you celebrate?”

I lean back into my pillows, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to fade. “It was good. Just a small after-party, nothing too exciting.”

“I would've thought you'd prefer exciting.”

I laugh, an unexpected warmth spreading through me. “You barely know me, Jaewook.”

“No, but I can guess. You seem pretty open and honest. I assumed what you see is what you get, and you don't seem boring at all.”

He has a way with words, and for the first time in a while, I don't feel like I'm being judged. “What about you? If I were to assume you are the way you present yourself in public, you seem pretty clean-cut and uncomplicated.”

“That's a misconception I'm afraid I'm partially responsible for. I'm a bit of a workaholic, it leaves the media very little dirt to dig up about me,” he jokes, but I think he might be a little serious.

“So, you're not really a squeaky-clean poster child heartthrob?” I question, injecting a bit of humor into a very purposefully veiled compliment.

“A heartthrob for sure. I worked hard on earning that title.”

“But not a square who never has any fun.” I feel myself smile, rubbing a circle into my wrist.

“I haven't had much opportunity for it recently, but I promise I can be fun.”

“Mm,” I hum, “You've done a really good job convincing everyone you're mild-mannered and polished, I don't know if your image fits very well with mine.”

“I'm open to the challenge of convincing you,” he counters, inviting.

“How do you plan to do that?”

“How about you start by letting me take you on a date?”

I start, surprised and a little pleased by his forwardness. I didn't expect it from him, not that I know much about Jaewook as a person. We don't run in the same circles, musicians and actors only have the barest bit of overlap in the industry if you're not both. I've never heard anything bad about him either, though, and that's saying something with how many idols have skeletons in their closets.

Still, I hesitate.

I'm wary out of habit, admittedly, but not without reason. I've learned to wear my scandalous reputation like a crown publicly, but privately it's become a heavy burden to bear. My well-publicized dating life has created a hard-to-shed reputation. Every new man I meet is a coin toss. It's equally likely that they approach me because they believe what they've heard and want to try something wild and novel or if they are genuinely interested in getting to know me as I am.

Jaewook seems, at least so far, to be genuine, but I'm a skeptic now, and it's hard to tell when I have no previous knowledge of him. At least other men in the industry have their own reputations. Jaewook is a blank slate. I can't message his exes or ask my friends who've hooked up with him. He has no paper trail.

“I'll make sure it's somewhere discreet,” Jaewook says, as if he senses my apprehension.

I snort lightly. I'm not exactly known for being discreet, and the media stick to me like fleas. I'm like a gold mine for their headlines, a story always close on my heels.

“You sure you know what you're doing?” I wonder, biting my lip. I'm highly tempted, and it's been a while since I've had a little casual fun.

“I've gotten pretty good at dodging tabloids. If you want this to stay private, I'll take care of it. I promise I'll make it worth your time.”

Well, how can I resist that?

“Alright, you've piqued my interest,” I admit, throwing caution to the wind, “Impress me.”