Chapter Text
I stand with my coworker in the LAX airport as we wait for our luggage to be spit out. Well, I should say her luggage. I brought a carry-on and a personal item, enough to last me for the duration of the time we will be here for the concert. Kinsley, however, brought enough clothes to dress herself for a week. I glance down at my watch, biting the inside of my lip as the conveyor belt machine kicks on.
“Oh, finally!” Kinsley says, pulling her sunglasses off her face and perching them on top of her head. People begin to crowd around us, and I have the ever-growing urge to shrink and back away.
“I’m going to get out of the way,” I say, hoisting my red bag up on my shoulder.
“No, you can’t leave me! Look, the bags are starting to come out.”
“But I don’t have a bag—”
“Get out of the way,” Someone says, shoving past me. They quickly go up, check the black suitcase, swear when it’s not their name, and stand there, blocking everyone else.
“Fucking asshole,” Kinsey groans. Her head whips toward me, her big smile so infectious it makes me grin back at her. “I can’t believe we got sound check tickets and pit tickets to BTS!” she whispers excitedly. I nod my head, glancing around the area. Tons of people here seem to have just arrived for one of their four concerts. Tomorrow’s concert is the first of four, but we couldn’t secure tickets for that day.
“What can I say? We got incredibly lucky with my friend who works at the venue.”
“Incredibly lucky? That is an INSANE deal he got!” I nudge her arm when I see an overstuffed suitcase tumble out of the opening, and she ushers forward, shoving the man from earlier slightly. I watch with amusement as she struggles to lift the bag, and eventually, some kind, tanned man pulls it off for her and sets it on the ground. He chats with her briefly before she waves and hurries back to me. “So, where are we heading to?”
“My friend has a rental near the arena that we are staying in,” I say, hoping she won’t make a big deal out of it.
“Is this friend someone who is hoping to be more?”
“I certainly hope not,” I say with a bland face. I’ve known Edward since we were kids, and though he is a little older than me, I’ve never known him to be the kind of person to have a crush like that. He usually is pretty direct when it comes to his feelings. Him being a manager for a venue like this in California is pretty on brand for him, considering he used to play guitar in a band that was decently known. When BTS announced their comeback tour, he immediately called me up, said he secured two tickets for a friend and me, and said I could stay at the California rental.
“Will he be able to meet us on this trip?” Kinsley asks as she heaves her bag through the airport. We make our way outside LAX, and the line of congested cars is already crazy. I glance down at my phone again, and am relieved to see a text from Edward saying the car was booked and will call me when it arrives outside our terminal.
“I think we have plans for lunch and a dinner with him, yeah,” I say. “Our driver will let us know when they are here.”
“Did you order an Uber?”
“No, Ed ordered a car for us.” She gasps in surprise before swooning, popping her sunglasses back down onto her face.
“I’m going to kiss him when I meet him.” I laugh lightly as she says that, knowing Kinsley is absolutely his type. She’s a bit taller than I, standing at about 5’9, with long red hair that is currently braided down her back. She has pristine blue eyes, and when I first met her, I thought that she looked a little too perfect to be real. “He reserved us a car, is letting us stay in his rental house, and he scored the sound check and pit seats to see BTS. Don’t pinch me, because if I’m dreaming, I want to stay asleep.”
“He knew I really wanted to go to a concert for them when they all got out of the military,” I say, hoisting my bag back up on my shoulder. “I’m not really a concert goer, but I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
“I’ve been to hundreds of concerts, and let me say, you are going to love this, especially with how much you love their music.” Kinsley and I bonded at work over our love of the BTS music. Well, I loved the music, and she loved the singers. Regardless, we were both so invested that we started taking Korean classes to be able to be able to try to understand what they say. She was able to pick up on writing in Hangul, but I found it easier to learn to speak it and have conversations. My phone buzzes in my hand, and when I look down, I see an unknown number with a California area code. I answer quickly, looking around.
“Hello?”
“Miss Aurora?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“Excellent; this is your driver, Mr. Park. I’ll be in front of your terminal shortly. I was in line when Mr. VanCleene booked the service. I’ll be in a black SUV. Can you describe what you’re wearing so I know when I see you?”
“Um, yeah. I’m in a dark blue matching yoga set, wearing a black baseball cap, and holding a red bag. My friend has long braided red hair, and is in a white crop top, light purple oversized zip-up hoodie, and black leggings, and she has a large suitcase.”
“Thank you for that. Please step closer toward the pickup zone so I can try to spot you better. I’ll call you when I park.” The line goes dead, and I lock my phone.
“He’ll be here soon.”
“Good, because I am starved. Do you know where we should go for dinner?” Kinsley asks as we begin to move closer to the pickup area.
“I have a few places I wrote down,” I shamefully pull out an over-detailed itinerary. Kinsley’s eyes go wide as she snatches the paper.
“You planned the entire trip!” She skims the paper, murmuring over the words as she goes. “You really plan to work out every morning?”
“I do, yeah.” I grab the paper back from her, folding it back up and putting it in my pocket. “But we can also ask our driver. He might know of some really good spots.” Kinsley snorts, whipping her braid at me.
“Yeah, I’m sure the person who brought a colored itinerary is going to divert from it at all.”
“I would,” I snap in protest. “I just like to be prepared, that’s all.”
“And I admire that about you,” She says as a black SUV pulls up in front of us. My phone rings a second later, and as I answer, the window to the SUV rolls down.
“Miss Aurora, I presume?” Mr. Park asks, his voice echoing in the phone as I hear him in front of me.
“That’s us!” Kinsley shouts, hauling her bag toward the car. “Excuse me, sorry, coming through.” I hang up the phone as I watch her push her way through a small group of college kids, all of whom stare at her abhorrently. I follow behind her, apologizing as I go. Mr. Park is already out of his car, trunk open, reaching for Kinsley’s bag.
“Let me grab that for you.”
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest?” she says with a large grin. Mr. Park smiles politely, taking the bag from her, hoisting it effortlessly, and placing it in the car. He nods when he sees me, extending his hand for my two bags. “Oh, thank you.” I hand him the red back, but choose to keep my backpack. “I’ll hold onto this one. It has my laptop inside.”
“And her film camera, her digital camera, her 1990’s digital camera…” Kinsley rolls her hands in exaggeration. I feel my face flush as I grip the strap close to my shoulder.
“It’s not a problem,” Mr. Park says, taking the red one and setting it inside. “Mr. VanCleene says I am to take you to the rental to freshen up, and then to dinner where he’s made the two of you a reservation.” I raise my brow in curiosity.
“Oh, he didn’t mention a reservation.”
“He said it was a last-minute thought, considering you were just flying in, he wanted to ensure you had a great first dinner in LA.” Mr. Park opens the door for Kinsley and me. “He also said he fully expected you to have an itinerary, but really insists on your going to the reservation.” Kinsley snorts as she climbs into the back seat.
“We’ll go, she’ll be fine,” Kinsley calls, waving for me to follow her. I tug my baseball cap down as a nervous tic.
“We’ll go where he recommends. Is there a dress code?”
“Jeans and a casual top would suffice,” Mr. Park offers. So not anything, but not extremely nice. That’s good, I suppose. I climb into the SUV, Mr. Park quickly closing the door behind me. My phone dings, and when I look, it’s a message from Ed.
Just got the notification that your car is there. Hope you don’t have dinner plans, because I got you a reservation at a banger restaurant. You can thank me later, or whatever.
I smirk at my phone before replying.
All this seems to be a bit too nice for you, being a manager at this venue. What’s the catch?
I hit send, quickly buckling my seatbelt as Mr. Park gets back in the driver’s seat and starts the car.
“So, are you a driver full-time? Like, is this your passion?” Kinsley asks, buckling herself in as well. Mr. Park glances back in the mirror before smiling softly.
“This is my full-time job, yes.” The car shifts into gear as my phone dings again.
Why does there have to be a catch? Can’t I simply do this out of the kindness of my heart?
Absolutely not. This is far too expensive for you not to have an ulterior motive.
His reply was instant.
Maybe I’m trying to butter you up so you’ll move out here and work for me.
I roll my eyes, locking my phone. Out of all the reasons he could give, that would be the worst. I’m nothing special when it comes to what I do. I work in the field of photography, so I’m a dime a dozen, and out here in California, I’m sure you could throw a rock and hit someone who takes photos. My phone dings again.
I’m serious. I’m hoping to sway you. We can talk more after the concert about it.
I slide my phone in the backpack and lean back as we slowly weave through the cars at the airport.
“How close is the house to the stadium?” I ask, glancing out the window.
“About a five-minute drive, depending on traffic.” Mr. Park says.
“Whoa, that’s really close!” Kinsley exclaims, her hands pressing up against the clean window. Mr. Park nods as he begins to merge.
“I trust you’ll find the accommodations to be to your liking.”
***
Mr. Park was not lying. When we pull up to the mansion, not house, I am taken aback. This cannot possibly be the rental that Ed has.
“Sutton, I’m really going to need you to reevaluate your relationship with this man, because this,” she motions to the enormous building, “is not something someone just lets a friend casually stay at.”
“I’m starting to think the same thing…” I mumble, unbuckling my seatbelt as Mr. Park stops the car. He gets out and heads around to the trunk, quickly gathering our bags and setting them on the ground. As Kinsley and I step out, he’s there waiting for us.
“I’ll drop these off in the entryway for you both, and come back to get you for dinner in about two hours.”
“You’re a peach,” Kinsley says as she practically sprints off toward the front door. From the driveway, the house rises in clean, confident lines, modern, almost sculpted, as if it’s been carved out of light-colored stone. The walls are smooth and pale, catching the sun in a way that makes the whole structure glow softly. Glass dominates the front, tall panels and wide windows reflecting the sky and hinting at the life inside. As I walk closer, my footsteps echo faintly against the paved approach. There’s a sense of openness even before I reach the entrance, no heavy barriers, just a low fence framing the property, offering privacy without feeling closed off. The landscaping is minimal but intentional: a few small palms sway gently, their shadows stretching across the ground like fingers.
As we move toward the main patio area, where the house opens inward instead of closing itself off. The architecture creates a sheltered courtyard effect. A seating area sits at the center, simple, inviting, facing inward as if encouraging conversation rather than display. Glass doors line the walls, some sliding open to blur the boundary between inside and out. I catch glimpses of interiors, soft furnishings, clean lines, and a calm palette that mirrors the exterior. Everything feels deliberate, uncluttered, like each piece has been chosen to belong exactly where it is. To one side, a balcony juts out from the upper level, edged with transparent railing.
“Mr. VanCleene stays here occasionally when he has important guests to impress,” Mr. Park adds.
“So why are the two of us staying here? Honestly, a hotel would have been fine.”
“I’m sure the amenities here will be far better than those of a hotel.” As we get to the front door, my phone dings, and as I pull it out, a series of numbers pops up in the text from Ed.
27 69 56 83
This must be the code for the front door. Sure enough, Kinsley is waiting on us, her arms crossed with a pouty look on her face as she leans against the wall. I smile softly at her as I go to type in the code. The door immediately clicks, and in we go.