Rewrite the Rules

The Price of a Kiss: Part 13

The abrupt silence that followed the last song was almost deafening, broken only by the rising tide of excited chatter from the crowd. Standing up, I turned to gather my belongings – my abandoned sweater and ever-present purse.

A voice, tinged with a hint of awe, cut through the noise. "Are you going to use that?" a girl behind me asked, gesturing towards the backstage pass hanging from my neck.

I glanced down, surprised to see the plastic pass still nestled against my skin. "Use it?" I repeated, momentarily forgetting its existence.

"Give it to me NOW!"

"Yeah! Are you going to go backstage now?" she pressed.

"Honestly, I hadn't planned on it. I was thinking of keeping it as a memento."

The girl's eyes widened with what looked like disappointment. "Well, if you're not gonna use it," she said, her voice taking on a more assertive tone, "can I?" She reached out a hand, her fingers brushing against the pass.

"Uh, no, thanks," I stammered, surprised by her boldness. "I think I'll hold onto it."

A frown creased her face. "I don't see why you can't give it to me," she insisted, her voice laced with a hint of entitlement. "It's not like you're using it."

Another girl joined the conversation, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, "How do you know Kim Namjoon?"

My heart lurched. "I'm sorry?" I stammered, caught off guard.

"What are you sorry about?" the first girl scoffed. "We all saw him kiss you. Who are you?" Before I could answer, she reached out and boldly snatched at the backstage pass.

Instinctively, I swatted her hand away, a surge of anger replacing my initial confusion. "I'm nobody," I snapped, snatching the pass back and shoving it securely into my purse, zipping it shut with a finality that echoed the slamming shut of a door on this bizarre turn of events.

"They just picked me out of the audience," I continued, my voice rising above the growing murmur of the crowd that had gathered around us. "They've done the same thing at every concert – pull a girl up onstage during a song."

I looked around, realizing with a jolt that a small crowd of at least twenty people had formed a circle around me, their faces a mixture of curiosity and something akin to disappointment.

The crowd seemed to solidify around me, a pressing mass of curiosity and something far less welcoming. "Excuse me," I mumbled, my voice lost in the rising tide of murmurs. No one budged. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple, the sudden heat a stark contrast to the cold dread that had gripped me.

"Girlfriend?" a voice piped up, laced with a hint of malice. "Is that what this was?"

"No!" I blurted, the word exploding from me like a startled bird. "It was nothing. Just a bit of fun." My voice, far too high-pitched, did little to dispel the growing suspicion.

"But the kiss..." another voice chimed in, tinged with disbelief.

"It was... playful," I stammered, my cheeks burning under the scrutiny of a dozen strangers. "Like I said, they've done this before. Picked a girl from the audience."

The murmur intensified, a wave of skepticism washing over me. The playful encounter with Namjoon, the exhilarating moment onstage, now felt tainted, twisted into something I barely recognized. Panic gnawed at the edges of my excitement.

"Well, if you're not special," a new voice cut through the throng, laced with a sharp edge of disappointment, "then why the backstage pass?"

I clutched the flimsy plastic against my chest, a sudden shield against the accusatory stares. "It's a memento," I mumbled, barely audible over the growing din.