Love To Meet You

By Jay E. Tria

Expectations vs. Reality

At 33, career woman Sol Trinidad wasn't really looking for anything other than a fun evening when she attended the fan meet of hot Korean celebrity Nam Jihun. She certainly wasn't expecting to get up close and personal with the actor—like rolling-in-the-sheets-until-dawn personal. It was just one night after all. She will never see him again and he'll forget about her soon enough. Right?

Manila was supposed to be just one of the many cities in 30-year old Nam Jihun's work itinerary. Just like in any other city, he was excited to greet his fans. Then he met Sol, someone who had a knack for throwing all his expectations out the window. Romance wasn't in his schedule, but he wants to keep seeing her again, if only she and his celebrity trappings would let him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay E. Tria
• Release date: Aug 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201505097

Book preview

PART ONE

Metro Manila - September

SWERTE

Lucky Draw

SOL

It’s not supposed to be this way.

She only meant to get in and sit down. To watch and be entertained, part of the crowd—which turned out to be massive and well beyond what she could have imagined, this being her first of such a thing. To be one of the faces looking up at the stage, willingly blinded by the flashing sparks and the even brighter glow of the person the ten-thousand-strong horde of them braved Signal Number 1 rain and traffic for.

She was a 33-year-old casual observer. She would have been glad to blend in with the crowd. She didn’t need her game face there.

Standing onstage lit up by spotlights was a different story, with different requirements.

Dark eyes bored into hers, claiming her attention. Small and crinkling. A changing shade of brown. Blink. They looked darker, closer to midnight or rain-drenched road. Blink. Stage lights flickered, catching on long lashes, revealing flecks of what looked to her like stars.

It was her turn to blink. Gulp a little. His glossy lips moved to a small smile. His eyes looked kind. Polite. Politely interested.

She wasn’t supposed to notice these things. These were details no fan could pick out from a screen or a storefront ad or a fashion spread. Not with the precision she was able to do now, with the breathless way she was staring right back. She was perfectly fine without this information, enjoying the entertainment of an actor’s performance in the comfort of her bed at the end of a long day.

She didn’t need to come this close, heart hammering in her chest at this comprehensive view of human art in motion.

She wondered how she looked to him. Polite right back? Constipated? Mildly freaked out? Neither would be a lie.

Miss Soledad Trinidad?

Sol, she said on instinct. As if triggered by a prompt she straightened her spine, shoulders pulled back. She breathed deeply in efforts to relax.

Her full name did not unfold from the mouth that came with those kind, sparkling eyes. She wondered for a second if she’d have corrected him too if it did.

Yes, she would have, but hopefully with less force.

Sol turned to the host holding the mic out to her. She gave him a pressed-lip smile.

Yes, Marc? she managed, nodding slightly.

Marc the emcee-slash-actor-slash-model-slash-other-things bared his white teeth in a grin.

"Congratulations on getting the lucky draw among our thousands upon thousands of fan meet attendees! How does it feel to be the only one getting this opportunity to stand here, up close and personal with none other than top Korean actor Nam Jihun?"

Sol wished Marc the Host didn’t boom out the words like a foghorn. Surely the crowd around them had quieted down enough for his speech to be loud and clear, their pulsing energy held with collective bated breaths as their thousands upon thousands of pairs of eyes focused on the stage. On Marc and Sol and Nam Jihun.

It was many things happening at once. Sol saw two ways through this strange quandary—flight or focus.

Sol flicked her gaze back to Nam Jihun. Recent celebrity crush. Object of her random yes to a friend’s invitation to attend his fan meet, just because the actor was flying in to the Philippines from Korea and just because they could.

We work hard for the money, girl, she and her friend Chris had agreed over a late work night toast. We deserve to be entertained by a beautiful man.

Nam Jihun was gorgeous all right. Larger than life. Glowing. Sol hadn’t known what these words really meant until she saw them personified, right now, up close with this celebrity. He was tall and broad in a friendly, non-menacing manner, like he was going to be good for her in all the ways that mattered. More beautiful than any screen or airbrushed page could do him justice.

He was only a Marc the Host away from Sol, not three paces’ distance, and looking at her like she was the only person in the arena.

She was supposed to remain calm with all of this somehow.

It feels strange, Sol said, voice even.

Marc the Host laughed like she told the bestselling joke of all time, his chortles likely booming all the way to the Gen Ad seats. You must be feeling happy too.

Sure, a little winded, Sol said with a curt tilt of head.

Jihun laughed this time, small eyes disappearing. Long, thin fingers coming up to cover his mouth as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to laugh like that.

Sol felt her mouth move to a small smirk, the kind she hid behind her best smiles, and her eyes met with his again.

Is he your favorite Korean actor? Marc boomed on, ripping Sol’s attention back to him.

He’s okay. I like him enough.

This time the laughter came from everywhere, mangled with calls and shouts. Sol turned to the sea of faces surrounding the stage, something she dared not do since she was called up and had to take what felt like the longest, slowest walk from her Lower Box seat to the front and center of this stage.

She realized that wasn’t what Nam Jihun’s biggest fan was supposed to say. But that was it precisely. She came here for the promised gorgeousness, a paid performance of a handsome man in exchange for a flutter of fleeting feelings. Not so much for this kind of overdose.

The stage felt small and the arena massive, surrounding her like a monster. She had been the boss of many conference rooms and sales rallies, delivering reports and winning debates, but nothing as unpredictable and frightening as the sight and energy of ten thousand devout fans squealing at every lift of eyebrow and every twist of mouth of their beloved idol.

Sol pulled in a breath, steadying the hammering in her chest. The key with handling such a crowd, she’d figured, was to not entertain the endless ocean of faces, and to hold on to what was closest to her.

Focus over flight.

She recognized the host’s chortling voice. She thought she felt Jihun shuffle where he stood.

She pulled her cold hands from inside her denim jacket and folded her palms in front of her, her arms held loose yet tucked at her sides. A well-used pose. Something she should have done earlier.

A current of something like humor surged through her veins. She looked back out at the crowd again, at the lights dancing in the dome’s ceiling, at the massive screen bearing Nam Jihun’s face with the real Nam Jihun in the foreground, and back at Marc’s waiting, gigantic leer that she was sure he’d intended to come out friendly.

Sol laughed softly. This entire thing was hilarious.

I saw his action movie in the theater recently, Sol said to Marc’s extended mic, flashing a smile. I appreciated his abs very much.

This time it was only Jihun’s laugh that she heard. The loudest, the most tactile, reaching her like tremors. Maybe because she was looking at him when she said the words, choosing his face as her focal point. Maybe because this time his hand didn’t cover his beautiful mouth. He laughed with his body, massive shoulders shaking, head tucking in and curving up again for his sparkling eyes to lead back to hers.

Good god, Sol thought, allowing her own laughter to break through the tension she’d been cradling like an infant, hopefully only hers to know. This is totally value for money.

What do you have to say to that, Mr. Nam? Marc said, swiveling to the actor, looking pleased at the material Sol had given him.

I am touched, Jihun said to responding squeals from the crowd. Sol didn’t miss the quirk of his eyebrow. It’s always nice to have your hard work appreciated.

Of course. It can’t be easy getting a proper six-pack, eh? How many pieces of pandesal did you bring over from Korea, Mr. Nam? Heeeeey! Pandesal—it’s the national bread. We’ll have to get you some of those before you leave.

Emcee Marc’s cackling laughter burst forth again. Sol was impressed with the presentor’s ability to be entertained by the slightest thing. It seemed a valuable trait, especially for his job.

Well, Miss Soledad. He turned to her again.

Sol.

Miss Sol. When Marc beamed at her it came with the assault of the arena lights, honing on her face like an alien starship’s call. You lucky girl among lucky girls. Everyone in this dome is feeling great to be here in the presence of Nam Jihun, right?

Squeals that broke eardrums. Scattered calls of oppa saranghae.

Sol’s fingers unclasped and re-clasped together. On an exhale, she turned back to the crowd, the wild energy pulling her in. She noted the crazed faces, staring at her with a mixture of kilig and envy and some potent form of shared euphoria. She felt compelled by a sense of fandom camaraderie to grin back.

"Sol here though, is a winner by an extra mile for being chosen to come up here to meet Nam Jihun, and to receive a gift bag from him containing amazing goodies from our partner, Siglo Apparel, who made this event possible, Marc was saying, arm flying out to the Siglo Apparel signs around them. Before you receive this gift, Sol, please tell us: why do you love Nam Jihun?"

Love. Big word.

She managed to hold in her scoff, didn’t she? Sol looked up at Jihun to be sure. The amusement playing in his eyes didn’t assure her much.

He nodded at her, the most invisible of signals, large hand dangling low by his hip, palm opening as if inviting:

Go on, tell me why you love me.

Hilarious, this thing happening to her. She couldn’t wait to go back to her seat where Chris was so they could freak out and overanalyze this strangeness.

Sol stepped closer to Marc, the better to speak on the mic.

Nam Jihun. Well… It took me watching four of his works before I liked him. I didn’t really understand the draw of his face, and I watched those shows because I liked the other actors. But on his last drama, I finally got it. She paused, rearranging into words the feelings she had during those post-work, late nights she spent unwinding, watching his show on her laptop while nursing a glass of wine. The way his face moves, the way he holds his body. It didn’t feel manufactured. It felt like I was watching a person I like.

Sol stepped back on her exhale, allowing Marc’s next booming words to go over her head.

That felt like a lot to say in an arena full of strangers, onstage, in the face of the person she was directing the sentiments to. It wasn’t rehearsed. She wasn’t prepared the way she was with several drafts polished before sending an email. She didn’t have time to psyche herself up the way she did with every presentation before a roomful of colleagues and bosses. She felt underdressed and sincere.

She took another deep breath, tipped her chin up. At least she wasn’t asked to dance or spell out Nam Jihun’s name with her butt. Not that she would have backed down from the challenge.

What do you have to say to that, Mr. Nam? Marc’s words registered easily because she’d heard him ask the same question a while ago.

I am touched.

Sol had heard the same words earlier, but the weight of them felt different this time.

How ridiculous, Sol thought, as her mouth curved to return Jihun’s smile. She shouldn’t be measuring this celebrity’s words like she knew him.

Congratulations again, Sol! Now Mr. Nam will hand you your gift bag. If we could move over there so we can get our pictures taken…

A cool grip took Sol’s hands, long fingers sliding over her palm, a tentative hold shaking her hand then leading her to the side of the stage. She heard directions to smile. Big smiles, big smiles over here! And so she did. At the camera, at the gift bag now in her hands, at Jihun’s hands still folded over hers, at Jihun’s face come ever closer as photographers screamed, Compress! Compress!

Can I give you a hug? Jihun’s voice reached her over the din.

How couldn’t it? It was deep and somber, its vibration travelling through what felt like thin air between them. It was this voice that first got to her, watching all those dramas and reality shows he was in, before his face or his body did.

How could she not hear him? When this tall, gorgeous celebrity she would never meet again was offering himself to her in a freaking hug.

Stay calm. Go get yours.

Sure, Sol said.

And then Jihun’s head was lowering, lips curved in a shape she was still trying to comprehend when his face disappeared to her right, his chin hovering, a gentle shadow over her shoulder. His palm was light against her upper back, a tentative pressure that prompted her cheek to touch the crook of his neck.

This feels so nice, was her first surrendering thought.

Lord, I am hugging Nam Jihun.

He smells unbelievably good. What the hell is this cologne??

How close do I need to be to feel those abs?

Good god, people are watching and screaming.

Your hands are cold, he said, voice rumbling in the sliver of space between them.

Yours too. You should have ramen.

Ramen made sense to her. Sol could have ramen when this weird, overextended moment was over. She could have it in the privacy of her own space, at her own time, without people watching how she slurped her noodles. She could have it again whenever she pleased, and have something else when she didn’t want it anymore.

This must be hunger taking over.

Sol had a moment to shake off her ramen thoughts then she knew it was over. She had the gift bag in her hands and nothing else, and was enclosed in a loose cage of arms of strangers in uniform black shirts, ushering her off the stage. A flurry of words were spouted to her, thanking her for being a great sport and reminding her to tag Siglo Apparel and Nam Jihun’s official social media accounts when she posted about what happened today.

She took everything in, while also allowing some wonder to rise to the surface because what the hell just happened?

She’d said it aloud, her calm cracking with a little crazed laugh. The Siglo Apparel lady debriefing her laughed with her like, girl, I feel you, then held on to her arm when