The Choice I Made

CHAPTER II: Nostalgic

"It's the start of something new and it feels alright living here with you~ Ooh~" one of the songs in my favorite chick-flick is playing as I was taking a shower. It has been a habit of mine to let the music play while I take a bath. It makes me feel more relaxed. I tried to re-read in my mind the statements I'll be saying in the press conference later. Yes, most part of the press-cons are scripted but there are those nasty reporters who would throw surprise questions that would really caught you off guard.

"The press-con would be a lot different from what you got used to. This is cheesier, more personal, and you can expect the reporters to pry into your private life because you're not anymore just a car racer but a celebrity," Eric reminded me while we're having breakfast.

"I know. I've done this a few times in New York, remember? I can handle this, trust me." Eric just shrugged at my retort. Well, actually, I pretty messed up that one in New York. My temper got the best of me that I almost shouted at the reporter. Thankfully, it was not published. The reporter probably realized that it's his fault.

You might be curious what kind of question got me mad. Growing up in the West makes people think that I'm a party girl and that I'm up to nothing. But what they don't know, it's the exact opposite. I hate parties. Dressing up is not my thing. I don't like girly things. In short, I'm your boyish kind of girl and the fact that all of the members of my team (except Belle, of course) are boys doesn't help on getting me to be girlish. Well, maybe, that's also the reason reporters always ask me if I am dating someone from our team but actually, relationship is never on my bucket list. There are suitors but I just don't feel anything special for them. I don't have an ideal type either. Maybe because I have a lot of guy friends, I feel like I have met every kind of guy. However, I am not bitter. If the right guy appears in front of me, I guess I just have to swallow everything that I've said.

As soon as I've finished showering, I found Belle in my vanity mirror arranging the beauty essentials. I don't really put on a lot of make up. Just moisturizer, powder, light eye liner, and lip balm. As I've said, I hate being girly.

"What do you want to wear for today, Sam?" Belle asked as she rummaged my luggage. Even though she's my stylist, I always have the say on what I wear.

"Jeans and shirt will do. I don't want anything fancy," I said while applying the lip balm on my full lips. I have a fair skin so bare face isn't really an issue. My eyes are pretty as they are so I don't have to put eye shadow, only a thin amount of eye liner to accentuate them.

"Omo! I really want to have that face of yours, Sam. No need for any touch-up," Belle remarked as she caught a glance of my reflection.

"Well, I thank God for having gorgeous parents," I said smiling at her. Belle is a good person. When I met her two years ago, I already liked her. She's full Korean but she studied in Paris for years so she's very fluent in English. But, most of the time we converse in Korean.

"I picked out your mustard V-neck shirt, and your faded, tattered skinny jeans. Does that measure up to your liking?" she said holding out the pair of clothing she picked.

I turned my head to have a look. "You really know me, Eonni," I replied, smiling from ear to ear. She's like a sister I never had.

"I suggest you pair them with this," she's holding out my brown Chanel frye-harness boots.

"Okay, if you say so," I said, nodding in agreement. I grabbed the clothes she laid down on my bed and got dressed. I pulled the pin holding my Latina (as Belle call it) hair and let the strands fall loose on my shoulders up to my back mid-section. I blow dried it and put on my brown beanie.

"Let's go," I told Belle. I grabbed my favorite black leather jacket, my Ray Bans, phone, and car keys. My baby arrived just this morning and I can't wait to drive him around South Korea. Oh, did I mention that I love cars? Of course, if a car racer doesn't love cars, who does?