Page 1

Chapter one

Teagan

My agent, Justin Han, conveniently failed to mention a few pesky details about my new college before packing me onto a plane back to America. Like the fact that my dorm room is roughly the size of a small-ass closet.

“What do you mean my stuff won't fit?” I ask, pushing open the wooden door of a cozy local bookstore just off campus. The bells chime overhead, welcoming me with the delicious scent of dark roast coffee.

“Just that, kid,” the mover I hired grumbles over the phone, background noise filtering through with the sharp thump of cardboard boxes being aggressively stacked. “We got here, and your dorm room is half the size of a damn closet. I don’t know how you expect us to get all this shit in here, let alone how you’ll be able to unpack.”

I tug my oversized black sunglasses off my face and hang them on the neckline of my shirt. Ducking into a quiet corner, I hide by a display of Howl-To-the-Moon Dream Journals and Siren Noise-Canceling Earbuds.

“Are you sure you’re in the right room?” I whisper, horrified. “My agent swore he booked a deluxe single suite. I didn't even pack that much! I stripped down to the absolute essentials when I left Seoul and—”

“Look kid, I don’t know what to tell you. There isn’t room. I piled the rest of your boxes in the hall. We gotta get to our next job. Uh, good luck.”

Panic spikes straight to my stomach. My expensive twelve-step Korean skincare regimen. My imported designer wardrobe. My vintage Franken-Pop figurines.

“Wait!” I yell, startling a couple browsing the fiction section and earning a sharp glance from a friendly, green-skinned orc near the counter. “No! You can’t just dump my prized possessions in a random hallway! What if someone steals it?!”

“Not my problem, kid. You paid for delivery. It’s delivered.” He pauses, probably remembering his customer rating, before tacking on a flat, “Have a good day.”

“Wait, don’t—”

A rustling and a few clipped murmurs cuts through the line, followed by a light thud. “Monster gods, make it quick. We have more things to deliver.”

“Hello?” a new voice answers. It’s deep, slightly raspy, and slightly annoyed. Yeah, you and me both, buddy.

“Uh... hi?” I ask, squeezing my eyes shut. If this day ends with my rare figures disappearing into the dark void of a college hallway, I’m going to throw a full-blown diva meltdown right here in the middle of this shop. “Please tell me my stuff hasn’t been stolen already, has it?”

“This is Teagan, right?”

“Yeah. Who's this?”

“Kieran. Your new suitemate. Dean Yaga told me to keep an eye out for you. Your moving guys left your mountain of boxes in your dorm, and the rest in our shared living area. Not some random hall. They’re safe.”

In the background, the mover scoffs. “I was just doing my job—”

“Anyway,” Kieran continues smoothly, ignoring the guy. “Like I said, we live in the same suite. I can assure you that your stuff is secure. Though, he wasn't lying about the room size. It’s tiny. All of them are.”

A wave of relief washes over me. “Oh, thank the monster gods. Thank you, Kieran! I’m so sorry you have to deal with that asshole. I’m just down the street at a bookstore waiting for my brother to pick me up.”

“No sweat. See you when you get here.”

I end the call and take a deep breath. Definitely not tipping that guy, I think bitterly. Then a sudden flush of guilt washes over me, and I remember my own mother’s broke, struggling days after the divorce. Fucking hell. I tap my phone screen to send the second half of the payment along with a generous twenty percent. Damn my soft heart.

Sighing, I drift through the cluttered, charming aisles. It reminds me of a tiny shop I used to hide out in back in Seoul. Ever since my parents split and my dad moved us back to Korea while my mom stayed in the States, I’ve been living like a tetherball swung between two wildly different worlds.

At fourteen, a talent scout spotted me, and before I knew it, I was thrown into the meat grinder of the K-pop idol machine. Grueling twenty-hour days, insane diets, and the unrelenting pressure to maintain a squeaky-clean, angelic persona. I debuted at seventeen, but luckily, my agent had so little faith in our group’s longevity that he signed us to a rare one-year contract. Usually, they try to bind idols into seven year contracts, but thank goodness they didn’t. One year of frantic world tours and utter burnout was enough to teach me that the idol life isn't my destiny. But along the way, a few bit roles in local dramas sparked something else in me. Acting isn't just a job. It's my passion.

Wandering through a bookstore, unbothered, is a luxury I haven't enjoyed in years. No security detail. No flashing cameras. No screaming crowds tracking my every move.

“Oh, my monster gods, Teagan!”

I spin around with a brilliant smile as my younger brother jogs down the aisle. Ethan is twenty now, taller than me, but whenever I look at him, I still see the little kid I used to share snacks with. While I have our father’s Korean features, Ethan looks more like our mother with her Irish heritage; red hair, freckles, and all.

“Hey there, baby bro!” I squeal, throwing my arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you! I’m so glad you found me.”

Ethan laughs, hugging me back with a familiar squeeze. “Are you kidding? You told me you were downtown browsing, and I knew instantly you’d be hiding in the nearest quiet bookstore. Totally on-brand for my famous big brother.”