Almost There (a Summer Crush Short Story) - WATTPAD VERSION

Saturday, 1:15 PM

The dominant colors of Summer Crush's Landian Stage remind Fi of the Stabilo highlighter she owned in college—a striking neon green that excites the senses. Equally exciting are the EG Project boys currently going through their routine sound check, if the high-pitched screaming from their fans on the sidelines are anything to go by.

Ignoring the scorching heat on her skin, Fi observes the sound check from a few meters in front of the stage, amongst briefly abandoned towels, umbrellas and slippers. Her eyes are focused on Yihwan, who walked out on them at lunch and returned just as the band was called up on stage.

The severe look on Yihwan's face can easily be attributed to the fact that the sun is glaring straight at them, but something's going on in that head of his, she can tell. He may not be missing his cues or playing the wrong chords, but his hands are heavier on the strings, as if punishing them just because they're within his reach.

"Is everything all right with Yihwan?"

Fi turns her head, and the mesmerizing vision of Gabriel's strong chest swathed in a film of sweat greets her. The sight of him glistening like some kind of beach deity under this blistering heat makes her thirsty, but he has come prepared. He hands her a bottle of ice cold water she immediately takes and presses against her flushed face. "Thanks," she says, distracted by the bead of sweat that travels from under his chin to the valley between his chest. Yes, thank you. "He'll be fine."

A theory sits at the back of her mind, tapping its foot impatiently, as though waiting to be acknowledged. But its preposterous nature compels Fi to look somewhere else for clues to justify this behavior. A little talk with the band leader is in order, she decides. She needs to find out what's bothering Yihwan so she can maybe throw him a buoy before he drowns in one of his moods. He can get a bit insufferable when his disposition slides below the happy meter, and Fi often takes it upon herself to tame his temper.

"Do you need me for anything?" Gabriel takes his black baseball cap off his head and puts it on Fi. "I can buy you a Shok-noot shake from one of the resorts—"

She touches the bill of the cap and smiles at him, appreciating the gesture. "I already told you, it's pronounced like chalk nut. Or tsok nat."

"Whatever. Still tastes amazing."

"It's amazing how you already discovered that Choc-Nut shake. I didn't even know it existed."

"Right? Do you want one?"

She shakes her head. "Nah, maybe later. I'm good. We're good," she says with confidence. "Go surf or something. Take photos with the fans and stuff."

They laugh. "How brokenhearted will they be if they learned I'm not really some celebrity?"

"Doesn't matter. It's enough that you look good, trust me." Fi pushes him away playfully. "Go, go..."

"Hey, you don't have to shoo me away!" Gabriel protests and sets his weight over Fi's hand. "Oh no, gravity is increasing on me!"

Fi smacks his wide back, giggling. "This is not the time to quote movies, Mr. Park. Go!"

"Hello mamser, sermam! Pislabrakenrol!"

Fi and Gabriel put a halt to their banter when a lanky gentleman wearing a bright, cheeky smile and his wiry hair in a bun approaches them. The logo on his yellow muscle shirt—Tropical Hot Condoms—gives him away, and Fi is a little mortified when he presents them a box of banana-flavored condoms and jumps right into his spiel.

"Tropical Hot Condoms has a new variant, mamser! It's called Banana Bliss, for the adventure that comes after the kiss!" His rehearsed lines coupled with gestures remind Fi of a game show assistant directing the audience's gaze to the featured showcase of the day. "Of course, we still have our other variants, Watermelon Wonderland, Dalandan Delight, and Hawaiian Glee."