Vacation

"Here you go, ma'am," the cabbie said, nodding toward the white villa. Hyeonju blinked at the empty street, the cicadas already going nuts in the afternoon heat. She paid the guy, dragged her suitcase onto the cobblestone path. No welcome party. No Tita running out with warm hug. Just the far-off sound of waves from the beach down the road.

She fished her phone from her pocket, scrolling past her manager's last text—"Rest. Don’t post. Don’t be seen." and called her aunt instead. The line clicked. "Tita?" Hyeonju pressed the phone to her ear, catching some tinny music and laughter in the background.

"Anak! You there already?" Her aunt's voice was loud, half-shouting over what sounded like drums. "We’re on a cruise ship”, three weeks in the Caribbean! “The key is in the pot, The pot near the door”. Didn’t I text you?"

Hyeonju stared at the villa's heavy wooden door, its paint chipping at the edges. "No," she said slowly, "you for sure didn’t."

"Oh!" Her aunt's laugh crackled through the phone, way too cheerful. "Spare key’s iin the pot by the door, anak. Enjoy, you’ve got the place to yourself!" The call died before Hyeonju could argue. She sighed and crouched by the planter. Yep, under a stupidly light "rock" painted gray sat the key.

The door opened, revealing a dim inside that smelled like old wood. Hyeonju hauled her suitcase over the threshold. The living room was comfortably messy, magazines piled up, a half-knit sweater dumped on the couch, slippers kicked under the coffee table. A sticky note on the fridge read “DON’T TOUCH THE BEER” in her aunt's loopy writing. Hyeonju snorted and peeled it off, sticking it to her forehead like some kind of confused badge.

Upstairs, the guest bed was made. She flopped onto it, arms and legs splayed, and breathed out like she hadn’t in months. No schedule. No cameras. No stylist nagging about her bangs. Just the AC’s lazy whir and waves crashing somewhere far off. She wiggled her toes, grinning when the old mattress creaked. Freedom smelled like salt.

She dug through her suitcase, until she found her favorite orange bikini, the one with the practical shorts bottom. She threw on an oversized tee and caught herself in the dresser mirror. No makeup, no act. Just her.

The beach was five minutes down a sandy path lined with coconut trees. The late sun turned the waves gold where they hit the shore. Hyeonju kicked off her flip-flops halfway, letting warm sand squish between her toes. A few locals glanced her way but left her alone.

She picked a quiet spot where the beach curved into a little cove, far from the handful of people farther down. She tossed her tee onto the sand. The water licked her ankles, cool but not cold, and she breathed in the raw sea smell, nothing like the fake perfumes in the training room.

She ducked under the first gentle wave, saltwater rushing over her head, through her hair, down her neck. For a second, she stayed under, suspended in the quiet. When she burst up, gasping and laughing, she shook her head like a wet dog, spraying water everywhere.

DJ had just finished his usual hike when he spotted her, some girl rising from the waves like she owned the place. The sun caught every water droplet as she shook her head, sending them flying. His breath caught. That orange bikini clung to her like a second skin,her toned legs as she walked toward shore. He should look away. He really should. But his feet moved on their own, carrying him closer.

Sand crunched under his flip-flops, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy stretching, the bikini pulling tight across her chest. DJ swallowed hard. He wasn’t a creep, just killing time, but something about how careless she moved drew him in.

DJ barely registered the sudden wind before something soft smacked him in the face. He sputtered, grabbing at the fabric, her tee, still warm from the sun.

Hyeonju gasped, arms crossing over her chest as the wind whipped her wet hair into her eyes. "Yah!" she yelped, half-laughing, half-mortified. The sound snapped DJ back. He peeled the shirt off his face, holding it out like a surrender flag.

"Sorry," DJ blurted, even though the wind wasn’t his fault. The shirt smelled like sunscreen and something warm like clothes left in the sun too long.

Hyeonju snatched it with a quick laugh, slipping into Korean without thinking. "Gomawo." She yanked it over her head in one quick move, the hem landing just above her knees. The sudden modesty made it funnier, like they’d been caught in some dumb rom-com moment.

Their eyes met, his wide with panic, hers crinkled with suppressed laughter and suddenly they were both laughing, the absurdity of the moment breaking the tension. DJ's chuckle came out more like a wheeze, his hands fluttering uselessly at his sides before he jammed them into his pockets. "Uh. Hi," he managed, voice cracking on the second syllable. "I'm DJ. Like, the name. Not the... job." He cringed internally.

Hyeonju giggled into her palm, the sound bright and unguarded. She wiped saltwater from her lashes with her free hand before extending it toward him. "Hyeonju," she said simply, her fingers still damp from the sea..

DJ grabbed her hand and shook it nervously, his palm clammy against her damp fingers. "Nice to meet you, Hyeonju," he said, the name feeling foreign yet familiar on his tongue. "Tourist?" he asked, immediately regretting how stupid the question sounded.

She tilted her head slightly, her damp hair brushing her shoulder, and smiled. "Yes," she said simply. That single word, paired with that tiny head tilt, nearly melted him on the spot.

DJ opened his mouth to ask something else, maybe where she was from, or how long she was staying. When the sky darkened abruptly. A strong gust of wind kicked up sand around their ankles, and Hyeonju squinted as a stray grain caught her eye. "Oof—" she rubbed at it, just as the first fat raindrop splattered against her shoulder.

"Shit," DJ said, glancing up at the suddenly ominous clouds. Another drop hit his forehead. Then another. The rain didn’t so much fall as dive, like the sky had been holding its breath and just let go all at once.

Hyeonju yelped as the downpour soaked through her tee in seconds, plastering the fabric to her skin. DJ didn’t think,He just grabbed her wrist and broke into a sprint toward the villa’s gate.

DJ fumbled in his soaked shorts pocket, the metal key slick between his fingers as he unlock the door. The door swung open, rain pelting their backs like impatient fingers urging them inside. Hyeonju hesitated, water dripping from her hair onto the welcome mat. "Wait," she said, "you have keys to my Tita's place?"