Heartbeat // JK

4 - Flashes of Connection

Emma bumped my shoulder, her voice snapping me back.

"Eva, come on. You're not about to chicken out now, are you?"

I shook my head quickly, forcing a smile.

"No. I'm coming."

The doors opened ahead of us, and the boys disappeared into the waiting cars, their laughter fading into the night. As we waited for our turn, I couldn't help but glance at Emma.

Her expression was hard to read, but there was something calculating in the way she watched the cars pull away.

The black SUV waiting for us hummed quietly at the curb, sleek and official—clearly arranged by BTS's team. Emma didn't wait for a signal before sliding in, her face lit with smug excitement. I followed, my nerves a tangled knot.

"This is insane," Emma whispered, her voice barely above the hum of the engine as we pulled away.

"Do you realize what's happening? We're going to an after-party with BTS."

I managed a small laugh.

"Yeah, it's a lot to process."

She grinned, practically vibrating with energy as she fixed her hair in her phone screen.

"Eva, listen—this is our chance. You need to, like, use this. Don't freeze up."

I blinked at her.

"Use this? What are you talking about?"

Her smile tightened as she shrugged.
"You know, get connections. You sang in front of them. Maybe they'll think you're talented. BTS has power, Eva. Don't screw it up."

Her words sat heavy in the air, and I turned back to the window, letting the lights of New York blur together.

At the club OAK's iconic neon sign glowed overhead, and the low thrum of bass reverberated through the street.

Flashes from paparazzi cameras painted the entrance in bursts of white light as security guards managed the growing crowd of fans craning for a glimpse of anyone stepping out of luxury cars.

Emma barely waited for the SUV to stop before she climbed out, heels clicking against the pavement. I followed more slowly, nerves twisting in my stomach.

The VIP entrance was quieter, tucked away to the side, where a suited security guard stood with a clipboard.

"Name?" he asked, barely glancing up.

"Eva Simon," I said hesitantly.

The guard skimmed the list, then nodded.

"You're good. Go ahead."

Emma stepped forward immediately, her voice brimming with confidence.

"Emma Carlson. I'm with her."

The guard frowned, rechecking the clipboard.

"Sorry, you're not on the list."

Emma froze.

"What?"

He looked up at her this time, his tone polite but firm.

"Your name's not here. Only Eva Simon."

For a beat, Emma didn't move. Then her face twisted with disbelief—and anger.

"No, no. There's a mistake. Check again."

"I've already checked twice," he replied patiently.

Emma turned on me so quickly I stepped back.