My eyes bug. “You’ve been dancing that long?”
He nods, flashing me a wry smile. “But it was traditional dancing. From China. Because my mother was Chinese. She didn’t let me do cool dancing until I was ten.”
I laugh with him, and when he puts his hand on my shoulder to guide me around a pair of tipsy girls sloshing their drinks, warmth blossoms underneath my skin. My eyes shoot to Jason, but he’s walking ahead of us, chatting with their manager.
“Sophie told me your dad lives in Beijing,” I say, forcing my attention back to Yoon Jae. “Is that where your mom’s from?”
His smile fades, and he diverts his gaze to the floor. “It is. That’s also where I grew up. My father moved back there after my mother died two years ago.”
“Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry!”
I place my hand on his shoulder, but I catch Jason peering back at us, and my hand slips back into place at my side. The stormy look in his eyes forms a knot in my stomach.
Eden’s manager deposits us in a private room, and before we even have time to order, a round of drinks arrives.
I sit on the long leather couch between Yoon Jae and Sophie, but she and Tae Hwa disappear after only a few minutes. Although Yoon Jae continues to talk to me, the tension in the room rises until I can’t believe he doesn’t notice it. Jason sits in the corner, keeping silent. He stares daggers at Yoon Jae, which isn’t unusual, but then I catch Yoon Jae scowling at Jason. Weird.
“Grace?”
I perk at the sound of my name.
Jason gets to his feet and holds a hand out to me. “Do you want to check out the rest of the club?”
“Uhh…”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond and grabs my wrist before I can process our skin touching. He leads me back out to the main lounge, where the music has switched to a popular American hip-hop track. No one pays us any attention as we make our way through the crowd. They’re all too cool to look starstruck, I guess. Either that or they’re all famous, too, and I just don’t recognize them.
I expect Jason to head straight to the bar, but instead he makes a direct line to a group of people congregating around a table deep in the shadows. He presses into the crowd, and they part with curious glances. I catch a few scowls directed my way from some of the girls but ignore the heat creeping its way up my neck.
At the round booth sit two guys and four girls, but it’s clear who the important person is here. He’s in his late twenties, with shaggy hair that plays across his eyebrows, cheekbones any model would covet, and a shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal a lot of tan, muscled chest. Every woman within a twenty-foot radius has her eyes on him.
Jason says something to the guy in Korean, and he answers with an easy laugh. He then shifts his gaze to me, and I’m frozen under his attention.
“Jason tells me you go to his school,” the guy says, in only lightly accented English. “Do you like Korea?”
“Yes!” I say, because it’s the only word that comes to my embarrassingly dazzled brain.
He smiles, and it’s like the entire club lights up.
“Good,” he says, gesturing to Jason. “I hope you stay here. He needs a girl to make sure he acts like a good boy.”
He shifts back to Korean—presumably, a translation—and the crowd around him twitters with laughter. With a nod, Jason and I are dismissed, and we meld back into the crowd.
Once we’re away from the posse, I grab Jason’s shirt sleeve and hiss in his ear, “Who was that?”
“His stage name is Storm. He’s one of the most famous KPOP singers there is.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Is there anyone else I should introduce you to?”
I stare at him in confusion, trying to process this friendlier side of him. I’m ready to question him about why he’s now decided he wants to introduce me to everyone he knows, when a hand falls on his shoulder and turns him around before I can sputter a word.
Na Na.
She’s wearing a black dress, like me, but the dramatically low neckline on hers makes the plain color seem bold. Her hair’s slicked back into a tight ponytail that looks glamorous paired with her dramatic black eyeliner and cherry red lipstick. She pouts at him and says something in Korean, ignoring me altogether.
I tilt my head toward them in hopes of catching at least a few words I recognize, but the music’s too loud and my nerves are too shot for me to focus on her simpering voice.
She lets her hand slide from his shoulder down his chest before lingering a second too long on his stomach. My eyes bug, and if she wasn’t so gorgeous, I’d say she had to be drunk to feel him up like that in public. As it is, though, she’s probably just used to every male specimen praying for even a look from her.
Na Na flicks her gaze past him to me, and it’s like she focuses every evil thought she’s ever had right at my face. My anger ignites, and choice words rip through my brain. But instead of letting the insults fly, I give her a tight-lipped smile and a mock bow, then turn smoothly and stomp my way back toward the private room.
My mind replays her hand running down Jason’s chest, the way her fingers slipped across the fabric, closer to him than I’ve ever been. And my irritation swells.
“Grace! Wait!”
I keep walking, weaving my way through the crowds, ignoring the stares and outright glares sent my way. My eyes sting, and I blink hard, suddenly wishing to just be back in my bed.
“Grace!”
Jason jumps in front of me with an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t know Na Na was coming tonight.”
I cross my arms. “I don’t care if she’s here or not. I don’t care what you do at all.”
He shakes his head, his hands coming up like he might grab my shoulders, but they fall back to his sides. “I wanted you to meet people tonight,” he says, “to be more a part of my life.”