Free Hello, I Love You by Katie M. Stout

drum set and taps out the rhythm. Like at The Vortex, he plays with no emotion—clean, but without passion. It’s not the notes that sound wrong—it’s him.
    I bite my lip, unsure how I should explain. He’s the professional, after all. Everything I know, I learned through a couple years of piano lessons but mostly through osmosis, listening to Dad or sitting in on Nathan’s recording sessions. No matter how many times Dad tried to force me to take lessons, I wasn’t into it.
    “Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the music,” I say. “And you’re playing it well, but you’re not portraying the right feeling.”
    He tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
    “Let me show you.” I come up behind him, reach around his body, and take the drumsticks. “You’re playing it like this.” I mimic his beats. “But it should really sound like this.” I tweak it a bit, reading more into the sheet music than Jason actually wrote. “See? It’s just a little different, but it completely changes the sound. Plus, you’re not emphasizing beats one and three enough.”
    He cranes his neck to peer at me over his shoulder, eyes wide. “That sounds so much better!”
    I repeat the rhythms in my head, reworking a few sections. Glancing back at the complete sheet music again, I refine the drum section so that it matches the bass better, creating a clearer, more streamlined sound.
    “Here, try this.” I make the changes on the sheet music with a pencil from my purse, then hand him back the drumsticks. “See what you think.”
    He plays the new beats, and it sounds exactly like what I imagined. Perfect.
    Yoon Jae smiles up at me. “You’re amazing!”
    I laugh, coming back around to the front of the drum set. “You just needed to change a few little things.”
    “How do you know so much about music? Do you play an instrument?”
    “Not really—I just played around with them growing up. I didn’t have the patience for real practice.”
    “Then where did you learn about music?”
    I pause, not sure if I want to get into that story or not—I’ll never forgive myself if the truth makes Yoon Jae and the others treat me differently. This is why I left the States.
    “Umm…” I hedge. “My dad uhh … he works in the music industry.”
    “Is he in a band?”
    I shake my head. Bite my lip. “No.”
    When I don’t continue, Yoon Jae prompts, “What does he do?”
    I sigh. “He’s a record producer.”
    Yoon Jae’s eyes get even wider. “What label?”
    Might as well tell him now. “He owns Wilde Entertainment.”
    He gapes at me, and I squirm under his attention. “Your father is Stephen Wilde ?”
    “Yeah…”
    A grin spreads across his face. “ Jinja? Really? Wilde Entertainment is the most successful country music label there’s ever been!”
    He pulls his phone out lightning fast, and before I can protest, he’s shoving the screen in my face. And showing me a picture of myself in the Atlanta Airport that he just found.
    “This is you!” He stares at me with new admiration. “You’re famous!”
    A nervous chuckle claws its way up my esophagus. “No, I’m not. My dad is. That only makes me famous by association.”
    He wrinkles his nose at this but keeps scrolling through pictures until I cover the screen with my hand.
    “That’s enough,” I say, laughing when he tries to pull the phone out of my fingers.
    “I want to see a picture of you in America.”
    I make a grab for the phone, but he dances away. And then I’m chasing him around the practice room.
    “Let me look—” His gaze diverts over my shoulder. “Hyung!”
    I turn and see Jason in the doorway, his backpack slung over one shoulder. “What are you doing?” he asks, though I’m not sure to whom he’s directing the question.
    “ Noona was helping me with the song,” Yoon Jae answers, taking a few steps back from me.
    “ Noona? ” I ask, in hopes of diverting the awkward tension that suddenly