Xiumin and I walk through the airport and no one gives an eff about us. Yup, we’re definitely not in Asia anymore. Ever since I joined EXO, I haven’t been able to walk around without hearing the high-pitched squeal of lustful, pre-pubescent girls. But here in St. Louis, Missouri, my band mate and I are just two ordinary people. Well, we’re normal enough; we are still searingly good-looking, especially me. I’m not exactly sure where my other traveling companion, Chanyeol, has run off to.

            Our record label, SM Entertainment, split all twelve of us up into teams of three and sent us to random vacation spots. They did something similar with SHINee, another of SM’s bands. Their reality vacation show was called One Fine Day. SHINee got to choose where they wanted to go, and they got to go alone. SM seems to have learned from that mistake. As it turns out, the SHINee members weren’t all that entertaining by themselves, so for our vacation, SM made sure to send us in trios.

            “C’mon, a taxi is waiting for you outside,” a crew member with thick glasses says a bit too sternly. I don’t like it when the crew acts like they have some kind of power over me. It may be true that I signed my life away to SM, but I did not sign it away to a crew guy. I try to focus on what’s on the other side of the large windows to avoid thinking about rebellion. If I’m not careful, then my ego might go to my head and I could end up like Kris. I definitely don’t envy the long line of court dates ahead of him.

            Sure enough, a yellow taxi is waiting for us outside. The sun is already gone, and I feel jet-lagged from the twenty hour flight from China. With a stern face I get into the vehicle and sit next to Park Chanyeol. He’s wearing black jeans and a baggy black sweatshirt like I am. We didn’t plan on matching. When I saw we were wearing the same thing last night, I went into full WTF-mode. He joked that it could only mean one thing: God made it happen because it would be funny. We both giggled for a good five minutes over it, but I was a bit annoyed. I wanna stand out like the superstar I am.

           As I check my phone for any messages, Xiumin sits to my right, leaving me in the middle. I hate not having a window seat. Min is also wearing black jeans, but his have a subtle camo print to them. And his baggy black top is a t-shirt. Over it all, the trendy boy is wearing a red leather jacket and a hip hop hat. I’m surprised Channy isn’t wearing a hat too, since he is the king of them, owning over a hundred. I’ll wear a hat sometimes, but mostly I like to show off my overwhelmingly attractive hair.

            Park looks to me with an expression that is even grouchier than mine.

            “We’s in America now, yeah?” he says slowly. “Home of da,” he pauses. “Well, dis shizz.” He is far too cool to pronounce words correctly.

            “You guys are so emo,” Min says trying to sound like he’s full of energy, but I can see exhaustion in his eyes.

            I yawn and hope that by tomorrow, the prospect of this 500 mile road trip from St. Louis to Chicago doesn’t seem so overwhelming. Behind us, another yellow taxi accommodates the two crew members. They are a married couple by the name of Choi and Yin.

            Luckily the drive isn’t too long, and the hotel check-in process is fairly painless, but the three of us do end up having to carry our own bags to the elevator and up to the large suite where we’re staying for the next day or so. SM told us to enjoy ourselves as much as we could in St. Louis, because after that, the places we will be staying at on our road trip up to Chicago will be literal dumps, as we’ll be in the middle of nowhere. I think Americans call that rural life.

            Xiumin uses the black key card the receptionist handed him to open the suite door for us and we follow him inside. The place has elegant maroon carpeting and opens up into an expansive living area with luxurious leather sofas and an enormous plasma television. Off to the west is a kitchen and dining area, and to the east is the master bedroom and bathroom.

            “I was afraid this might happen,” I say. “There is only one bed.”

            Park leaves his bags by the entrance and walks into the bedroom to examine the sleeping situation. “Yo guys, der’ only be one bed,” he calls out as if I didn’t already say that. “But hey, it’s a supa huge bed.” He is a total kigga.

            I’m so tired that I can’t help but giggle.

            “Dibs on the bed,” Min says.

            “You can’t be call’n dibs on da bed,” Channy says. “I want da bed.”

            “It’s too late. I called dibs on it first.”

            I roll my eyes and then roll my bag past them and rest my stuff next to one of the sophisticated dressers. I’m not in the mood to argue so I merely take off my shoes and plop onto the bed, stomach down.

            “So dats wassup,” Chanyeol says.

            “I guess you guys don’t know the meaning of,” Min waits a second for dramatic effect. “Dibs,” he says and jumps onto the massive bed next to me. I make a whiny noise because the movement shakes the entire mattress. Xiumin gets to his knees and massages my back. It almost feels good.

            Park looks up to the ceiling, smacks his lips, then looks to one of the beige walls. “You guys always be fan-servicing it up for da cameras.” He spins on his heel. “But der’ ain’t no excuse for it when der’ ain’t no cameras ‘round.” He shuts the door behind him.

            “He is such a homophobe,” I mumble.

            “I know, right?” Min agrees. He kneads my shoulder for another moment or two and then his small hand rests a bit too low on my beautiful hip. I tense a little and can feel the room filling with awkwardness. I’m sort of seeing someone. I slowly turn to lay on my back and come face to face with Xiu. He is propped on an elbow, and his hand continues to rest on my boney hip. I give a soft laugh to try and brush away any weird tension that might be building. But my band mate starts to pet my flat stomach.

            “What do you think Chanyeol thinks we’re doing,” Min almost whispers.

            “I dunno,” I start. “Giving each other HJs or something.”

            I expect him to laugh or say something that lets me know he acknowledges how dumb that is, but he just looks at me, his visage far too serious. My mouth closes and I quickly sit up, all but shoving his hand off me. He sits up too and we both don’t say a word.

            Kim Min Seok is admittedly really pretty. He used to be a bit chubby, but he went on this program called The Master Cleanse and is now super skinny. His silky auburn fringe is slightly messed up on one side and I am searingly tempted to lift my hand and fix it for him, but I’m scared about what that might lead to. I have thoughts about him sometimes. The impure kind. I never thought he might be thinking similar things until now. I’m already too lost in the moment—in the seemingly endless possibilities before us—so I lift my arm up and touch his hair with my fingertips. I can’t help but lean into him as I push the strands aside, our faces coming closer and closer.

            The door to the master bedroom opens and Chanyeol comes in. My hand bolts down to my side and I look anywhere but at Min. The trance is broken.

            “I be ordering some apple pie from room service,” Park says completely oblivious to the tender moment he just shattered. “You guys want some?”

            I swallow loudly and can’t think of how to respond, suddenly overly aware of how close Min and I are sitting to one another.

            “I’m okay, thanks though,” Minseok says with a forced grin.

            “’Ight, you guys wanna come and watch some TV ‘fore we hit the hay?”

            Minnie looks down. It’s clear he doesn’t want to.