I guessed there was always an ulterior motive as to why Leanne stayed with me so much. We had met roughly a year and a half before the New York trip. It was in the cold, icy, barren winter that comes with being Canadian. I had asked to come to the city for a minor photoshoot; one of me sledding and drinking hot chocolate for the kids' section of a winter magazine. Granted, I was only twelve, anxiously waiting for my birthday to come. It was always a terrible joke of my friends'. I was the last kids to have a birthday of my year, dubbing me as forever the youngest. I hated it. 

Anyway, I was enjoying some hot chocolate when an older girl approached me. That was Leanne. She smiled at me and told me that I was cute, but I was going to have to step up my game if I wanted to stay a model. I told her that I didn't really want to be and that my mom made me. She looked at me with such a puzzled face. Looking back, it almost said "you didn't want to be a model, even though you look amazing?". Being self-conscious, chubby-cheeked and disproportionate, I didn't really take in her facial expression too well. That was when I revealed to her something that I told no one else – I always had it in my head that I trusted her because I told her I wanted to be an author one day. She told no one else. But she never encouraged it; she always kept me pushing for modelling, instead. 

Our friendship went on merrily for a few months, as we exchanged phone numbers and e-mails. She would send me a picture of something funny and I would ask her an out-of-the-blue question at any given time of the day. Leanne lived in the city that was two hours away from my hometown – a small town, with only 15, 000 inhabitants. Everyone knew everyone somehow, someway. We had winters that'd block our doors with snow and summers that gave rise to a group of nudists it was so hot. Whenever we went to the city, Leanne would always ask me how my country-bumpkin lifestyle was going.

It was strange, how Leanne always knew where to find me in the city. I didn't mind it at all at the time. It excited me knowing that I had a friend that no one else knew about. 

But it came to the point where Leanne would come to my hometown to do photoshoots with me. We'd be partnered up for almost everything. I just thought it was a cool opportunity with a friend. I never thought that Leanne saw it differently. 

"A business deal," Leanne stated simply. "It's a business deal. Clean and simple. You call L. Joe. Tell him you want to meet him sometime. If he shows interest, then it'll be a great publicity boost. If he doesn't, then that's his problem and whatever, y'know." 

She and I were eating at one of the airport terminals in the JFK International Airport. I chewed the rest of my sandwich before crinkling my nose. "This worries me. He won't see it as a business deal. He might think I'm trying to be friends with him. And you know how awkward I am with misunderstandings," I muttered as I rested my chin against my loose fist. 

"He'll never find out. No one ever finds out my business deals. And every single one of them have worked out fabulously," she said with a mock gasping laugh. I smiled at her. She looked like a 1920's star, all glamoured up and ready to go. It was then that I realized she emanated a professionalism that I could never have, even when she wasn't trying. That's when I began to really consider an ulterior motive for her. 

And that's when I didn't want to be in her presence as much as I wanted to be. 

I excused myself as smoothly as I could. I told her I wanted to go to the bathroom then find something to eat. I made it as convincible as possible by exclaiming if you empty the tank, the more you can fill in it. She hurriedly dismissed me with an unamused look on her face. Leanne also told me to grab all my gear because she didn't want to carry all my stuff to the loading area. 

So, with my carry-on bag strapped onto my shoulder, I set out to explore the airport. Not really. I tried making sense of the signs and such as much as I could, in case I were to get lost. After all, missing my flight would be disastrous. Especially, by myself. The idea of being alone in New York was enough to make my hands shake. Tightly held with one hand, were my plane tickets, flapping rhythmically as I tried not to stress. 

"Kari? Is that you?" a voice asked. A familiar voice. A voice with an accent so attractive you would want to simply marry the voice. I looked up and took in a deep breath. It was L. Joe. 

Whoop de freakin' doo. 

It's been 7 days since I last spoke to him. Today would've been the 8th. My jittery movements came back, making me shake profoundly. I tried mustering a smile, but I seemed on edge and nervous. I could just tell from the way he looked at me. 

Not to mention, the hurdle of girls surrounding him, practically following his every footstep. He must've not been speaking English before as they all gasped and muttered incoherently as he called out to me. They had their phones whipped out, taking pictures here and there. Some were taking videos and others were pushing random objects towards him. L. Joe didn't accept anything from them.  I gulped and looked towards all the girls before I focused on him.

"So, uh. You're leaving today, too, then, huh?" I asked, trying my hardest to sound casual. It was no success. 

"Yeah, my flight leaves in a couple of hours."

"To where, again? Korea, right?"

"Yeah, to Seoul. I'm going to go back to work with TEEN TOP. Remember them?"

"I'm not dumb, y'know, L. Joe." I crossed my arms and huffed, looking away from him momentarily. His laugh sounded like charming bells that rang with whole, round notes. It was an amused laugh, light and rhythmic. 

"Where's Leanne?" he asked. It wasn't that the question threw me off guard. I was just so wrapped up in avoiding her that I didn't really want to think about where she could be.

"I-uh. Eating. I think. Yeah, eating. Before our flight leaves and all that." 

His chuckle was huskier, but still all the same charming. That was when a fan of his interrupted us by yelling, "L. Joe oppa! Who is this girl?!" 

Oh-pah. It was another strange word, another puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. Like dongsaeng. I figured they were some sort of nicknames in Korean, since they were only used with names. Leanne had screamed out other ones that confused me. In her spastic stories, she didn't think to tell me the meaning of them. 

Finally, L. Joe looked around the crowd of girls that accumulated over the short amount of time that we stood still. He had a crooked smile on. "She's a friend of mine. Her name's Kari. Treat her nicely, she's a bit awkward," he told the girls. All at once, they shifted their cameras towards me. A few of them took pictures, in which I stared blankly. Others began asking me questions.

"How old are you?"

"How do you know our L. Joe oppa?"

"Where'd you get your clothes?"

"Where are you from?" 

"Ohmigosh, those shoes! Whose are they?!"

"Do you like L. Joe?"

I panicked. I'll be honest with that. My eyes widened and I stepped back, adjusting my bag slowly. I had no idea where to start, what I should say, or even if I should say anything. That's when the closest girl grabbed my forearm. I yelped lightly and instinctively pulled my hand away.

"Hey! I said treat her nicely!" L. Joe barked sternly. He grabbed my other forearm possessively, roughly bringing me towards him. I stumbled, my eyes glancing towards the floor. It was a very light peach colour, with flecks of gold and warm turquoise. I didn't want to see the looks on the girls' faces. They must be offended. Or shocked, at the least. "You still got my number, right?" he suddenly whispered into my ear.

I never picked it up from the floor of the hotel. 

"I-I-I lost it. The trip back to the hotel that day was not a fun one," I stuttered out. "I didn't think you'd reca- remember giving me your c-c-ce-c-number." 

Another amused chuckle escaped his throat, this one's pattern was irregular. It settled on the ears nicely, regardless. Some of the other girls began to giggle, taking more pictures. I gulped once more before pulling my arm away from him. There was no way that I wanted to be seen as needing L. Joe's protection. The fan had just surpirsed me, that's all. 

However, it took a lot of force for me to do so. I had lost the grip of my plane ticket easily as it fluttered to the ground. L. Joe bent down and that's when I realized that he, too, had a plane ticket in his hand. I tried making sure I knew which one was his. It was the right one, I was sure of it. 

He was about to give me the plane ticket. He even held it out towards me. But, a fangirl – a true, screaming, aggressive and spastic fangirl – suddenly screeched so loud that L. Joe covered his ears. His name could be heard chanted from this woman, almost sounding like a sacrificial ritual from the monotonal tone of her wails. She lept and bound towards him, practically tackling him down. 

"L. Joe! Oh my god! Are you okay? Hold on!" I yelled as some other fans dropped their cameras. A few of them and I pried the woman off of the idol, then stood as a barrier between him and her. The other fans were cooing questions towards L. Joe, asking him if he was okay and if he needed help. 

The woman was relentless. She tried to shove us away from him, even blindly throwing her fists towards us. One girl had a small bruise on her jawline as the scab I had on my chin from my fall a week earlier reopened to bleed at a steady pace. None of us were hurt badly and we managed to deflect her off of him until the authorities arrived. L. Joe muttered something in Korean that I didn't understand. However, a few of the fans made agreeing murmurs to his statement. 

I didn't realize how much time I spent talking with L. Joe and his group of normal fans. One of them helped me with my bleeding cut. All of them were nice to me and respected my awkward nervousness that I had welled up inside me. I mean, being hoarded by a bunch of girls who are throwing a barrage of questions towards me isn't exactly on my daily to-do list. It was far from it! If anything, I expected a solid interview and a few girls coming up to me and asking me to sign their scraps of paper every now and then. That was all I expected out of my fame. 

The girl who grabbed my arm earlier apologized and said she was too excited. She had told me that many of the fans shipped L. Joe with his other group members; creating a gay relationship fantasy. The both of us agreed that we both support gay relationships but that L. Joe didn't necessarily seem like the type to be attracted to boys. She said she was ecstatic to know that there was a possibility of other people recognizing L. Joe's straightness through me. I thought it a strange honour. Considering that I was both attracted to L. Joe and I really, really didn't like him. And I was a potential ship! That in itself made me giddy in an almost vomit-inducing way. 

Before I knew it, the garbled P.A system mentioned the boarding time for my flight was in 20 minutes. I set my panic straight into full gear as I hurriedly said good-bye to all the girls. I said my good-bye to L. Joe, who in turn wrote his phone number on my hand rather than a piece of napkin. "So you don't lose it," he had told me before ruffling my hair. I assosciated that with a brother, though I never had an older one. And I was mildly content to know he regarded me closely. "Fangirl."

I had paced quickly down towards my boarding area which was... on the plane ticket that was no longer in my hand. 

Squealing, I my heel towards L. Joe. Thankfully, he knew what was up as he hurriedly gave me my plane ticket. The P.A system said that another flight was boarding, which I assumed was  L. Joe's. He looked as rushed as I was. He gave me an awkward, quick hug before hurrying away. From the corner of my eye, I saw him adjusting the light dress shirt he had on. I skimmed over my plane ticket to find the boarding area, scurrying like a fidgety squirrel across the smooth floor. 

Skimming was a bad idea. Because I didn't notice the strange lettering beside each information input on the ticket. 

I was in for a crash-course on those strange letters: Hangul, the alphabet of the Korean language.