Chapter 1 - The Marvelous Swim Team Hottie

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The Popstar & Me


Chapter 1

I'M IN THE SHANGHAI AIRPORT on a mile-long line to use the restroom after a twelve-hour flight in coach. Right then, the realization hits me that I'm not in New York City anymore. A nearby television screen is playing snippets of Chinese pop songs. They're interviewing some ridiculously good-looking Chinese celebrity that I've never heard of.

"There is a rumor that you're seeing someone," the host, who looked extra comical next to luminous Asian Zac Efron with his horrendous frizzy sideburns and bright orange freckles, says. "Is it true that everyone's beloved Yao Ge Ge is finally taken?"

I'm not used to Chinese slang, but I know enough to know that ge ge means older brother, and this young, twenty-something stud is by no means older brother to all of the drooling girls in the Eastern hemisphere. The host even smiles knowingly into the camera. The girls watching probably wish that they were related to him, just as they're waited on bated breath for this broad-chested, clear-skinned McHottie to utter his girlfriend's name. We all wait, even me, who has no idea who he is. The movie star doesn't give us the satisfaction of a name. In a bashful but polite fashion, the guy smiles and waves his hand at the camera.

"Those are just rumors; all the girls only go out with me to spend time with my costar, Ling," the Yao dude says. "He's by far the more shuài of the two of us."

I can tell by the Yao guy's slightly amused smile that this is not the case. If the word shuài were in the dictionary, this dude's face would be next to it, probably smiling even more bashfully as though he's never walked past a mirror in his life long enough to know that — yes — he is indeed the definition of shuài.

This Yao guy has skin that seems to radiate the softest, dreamiest light. It's like he's an Instagram filter that has been infused with elvish light that even Legolas couldn't match. His delicious face is complete with an impossibly sharp jawline and inky black hair.

"He says the same thing about you!" The announcer exclaims and slaps his knee in feigned frustration. "What are you two boys up to? Are you two dating each other?"

"Are we?" The movie star responds as he laughingly walks away. "The internet knows everything these days."

I have to chuckle as a cartoon comes up on the screen of two handsome chibi boys in period costumes with bubbly hearts erupting between them. Clearly, the network was trying to push the narrative in this direction from the beginning. There is no girlfriend in sight, and once again, we can all believe that perhaps, just perhaps, this hottie was about to whisper our name. Yes, even me. Even though I had never seen this guy in my life.

The dude is a popstar; I'm sure he's under contract to stay single so that all the lonely girls out there can pretend that he's their prince charming. Who am I to judge them? The presenter goes on to interview another movie star, one named Kang. He's less charismatic than Yao and I go back to trying to get my phone onto the airport WiFi. Nothing. Darn. I sigh and turn my attention back to the flickering TV screen. 

 I'm here in Shanghai for my summer break to chase after a hot guy from my Science class. My parents think I'm here to study acupuncture to add some "depth" to my Harvard application essay in the fall. Yeah, I'm going to go in-depth into Calvin Suzuki from AP Biology this summer, and by next fall, I'm going to be dating the champion of our swim team.

"You're next!" A woman behind me yells and motions to the bathroom door. "Stop watching TV and get a move on."

I blink at her, and I can't believe she's talking to me. Oh, yeah, I'm blocking the restroom door, and it's a narrow opening, so she can't shove past me. She tries. My New York City upbringing keeps me from letting her pass. Hey, I've fought my way into a packed subway car before. I can hold my own.

"Okay, okay, auntie," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "I'll be in and out, I promise."

"You better. For goodness sake, xiao jie, get a move on. You're watching a rerun from last New Years'."

After using the bathroom, I touch up my hair in the mirror. I'm slender, 5'8", but otherwise not memorable. Once, I was approached by a modeling agency while I was on the 7 Train. My parents said no, of course. My parents are as permissive as Asian parents come, but they're not that permissive. Also, the idea of me having a future in anything dependent on my appearance is a hard pill to swallow. I'm not pretty in a typically Chinese or Western fashion. I don't have double-eyelids, rose-shaped lips, or a perky nose. My jaw is too pointy, my ears are too big, and I have a weird mole by the corner of my left eye. Instead of the familiar heart-shaped face that's popular on TV, I look angry all the time, like I should be playing the bad guy's girlfriend in a mafia movie.

After that encounter with the modeling rep, I discovered a love of fashion. That's why I'm wearing a leather jacket that I bought second-hand off TRR right now. After my parents said no to the modeling thing, I've been all about the rebellion. I'm done with being a shy wallflower. I'm about to spend the best summer vacation of my life skipping summer school and roaming around Asia with the hottest guy in our high school. The awkward school nerd is going to return home a hot, confident, (not to mention worldly!) femme fatale. 

That's why I'm standing outside the bathroom now, waiting for the next flight to arrive

Calvin is on that flight.

"What? No way! What are you doing here?" Calvin exclaims as he catches sight of me on his way to the men's restroom.

He's stunningly hot with bull-like muscles on his forearms. From the second he wrapped his arm around my waist in Square Dancing class last year, I knew I needed to see more of that body than just the peep of a belly button I got when he stretched while yawning in AP English.

"What the heck?" Calvin asks as he approaches me and wraps his big arms around me. His Gap sweatshirt feels damp against my cheek, but he smells like fresh laundry, as always. Calvin is built like an NFL quarterback, and that means he doesn't smell bad, ever. Even if he does smell, it's just Androstenol, a male pheromone that makes him even more attractive.

"Yo, Andy, look! It's Sara, from my AP Bio class."

"Sara?" Andrew asks, and I wince at the sight of Andrew Jones, the annoying Math team captain with the acne problem. It figures that Andrew would be here; he and Calvin published a paper together last year about discovering a new type of bacteria. It's all just fodder for college, and I know Calvin is aiming for Harvard undergrad and that is very competitive. Calvin is the perfect candidate, he'll get in for sure. "What are you doing here in Shanghai? Visiting family?"

I roll my eyes so hard, they nearly leave my head and score a strike in Andrew's balls.

"I'm here for the acupuncture program. I've always wanted to work in a developing country and serve an underprivileged population."

Yes, that is the standard answer that I intend to put on my college application. My dad wants me to go to Columbia because that's where he went, but that's the only place I don't want to apply to. Maybe I'll go to Harvard, with Calvin. We can look back on this trip and reminisce about how fate brought us together in an airport in Shanghai. 

"It's so cool to have you here," Calvin replies with the slightest of smirks gracing his supermanesque chin. "We're going to have so much fun together! What happens here in Shanghai, stays in Shanghai, right guys?"

I chuckle and feel the butterflies erupt again in my belly. How can anyone say 'no' to a boy with a smile so smooth he can talk his way into being the first author of a paper that Andy wrote with his mom, an epidemiologist at Weill Cornell.

"I can see if I can get my hands on some top-shelf baijiu for us," I reply. "I speak Shanghainese, so maybe they won't even ask for ID."

"Oh, the legal age of drinking here is eighteen," Andy adds in his typical nerdy and annoying fashion while pushing up his giant glasses up his large nose. "Any of us can walk in and buy it."

"Yeah, Andy and I googled this already on the plane," Calvin says. "We also found some bars to hang at around the Bund area. You want to come, Sara?"

"Yea," I reply. "I don't know any here, well — anyone yet. Why not?"

"Great, we're going to head back to the hotel and shower. I'll text you the details. See you at eight?"

And just like that, I have a date with Calvin Suzuki. All it took was one plane ticket in July from New York City to Shanghai.







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