LOGAN
The morning started like any other.
I arrived at The Gorge early, radio clipped to my vest, running through the final security protocols before the madness hit. The sun was already climbing over the cliffs, casting a golden glow over the amphitheater. It was quiet now—just the crew moving equipment, vendors setting up, and the security team doing their final walkthroughs before the storm hit.
And it was going to be a storm.
Nova's show was tonight.
The crowds were already forming, with fans camping out for days, and by mid-afternoon, the lines would be spilling into the fields beyond the gates.
I had worked plenty of big events, but nothing like this. K-pop fans weren't just fans. They were a force. A loud, dedicated, slightly unhinged force.
Ray, one of the senior security guys, fell in step beside me. "You ready for this, boss?"
I snorted. "Not even close."
He smirked. "Never thought we'd see the day. A bunch of teenage girls breaking you, Carter?"
"I'm not worried about them," I said, scanning the perimeter. "I'm worried about the psychos who think they can rush the barricades. This is the kind of crowd that'll climb a fence and throw themselves at moving vehicles to get a glimpse of their idols."
Ray nodded. "No joke. You see the numbers for this one? We've got twice the usual security detail. Even hired some guys from out of state. No risks."
"Good," I said. "I want everyone tight on protocol. Checkpoints need to be flawless. No one without clearance gets through backstage. No exceptions."
"Got it."
We walked the grounds, making rounds, checking placements, making sure every part of the amphitheater was covered. By now, I had this place memorized.
But today felt different.
It wasn't just another show.
I could feel it—an itch at the back of my mind.
Something nagging at me.
I tried to shake it off, focusing on the job. We finished the last checkpoint sweep, and I was about to head back to the operations tent when I saw it.
The posters.
Massive promotional materials being set up at the entrance.
Bright colors. Glossy finishes.
And her.
Ji-an.
I stopped mid-step, eyes locking onto the larger-than-life image of her in the center.
Tall. Long legs. Sleek dark hair. Full lips. Those sharp, almost too-pretty features.
Her eyes, dark and piercing, seemed to look right through the camera, like she wasn't just posing for a photo—she was owning it.
Even if I hadn't already known who she was, I would have stopped. Anyone would have stopped.
But I did know who she was.
And for a second, everything else—the security checks, the job, the constant motion—just stilled.
Because of course, it was her.
I hadn't even let myself think about it.
I had known Nova was performing, had known this was a massive event, but I hadn't let myself think about it.
I had met her once.
Months ago, in an airport. Before I had any clue who she was. Before I had watched her sit down next to me, completely unreadable, and let me dig myself into a hole. Before I had ranted about how unfairly attractive she was, completely unaware that she was one of the most famous women on the planet.
The memory gave me a small kick now.
Embarrassing.
Still, I hadn't said anything untrue. She was too pretty. She did probably have the world at her feet. And if I had to bet, she was lonely, too.
I wondered if she would recognize me.
Probably not.
Why would she?
I was just some guy she had crossed paths with in an airport. Some idiot who had talked too much while she sat there, silently laughing at me.
Meanwhile, she was everywhere.
I had even looked her up after the fact. Watched a couple of interviews. Checked out some of her music—not that I would admit that to anyone.
I had hovered over the follow button on her social media more than once.
Never actually did it. Wasn't that brave yet.
Deep in thought a message popped.
@Wanderlust_J: Good luck today!
I smiled. Jess. It has been a bit since I heard from her.
I exhaled, shaking my head slightly.
I didn't even know how that had started.
One day, I had just gotten a message from some blonde girl from New Zealand. Big personality. Bigger opinions.
She was sharp—funnier than I expected, witty in a way that made our conversations easy. She gave me shit constantly, but not in a way that felt mean.
We talked a lot. More than I talked to most people.
I didn't have many friends—not the kind you just message in the middle of the night when you're bored or stuck on something stupid like what to eat for dinner. But somehow, Jess became that.
She called me out when I was being an idiot. She challenged me on things I hadn't even realized I had opinions about. We talked endlessly about guns, and food and travel. She was hella cool. Somewhere along the way, she started to matter.
Which was insane, because I had never even met her.
She was just some random girl I talked to online.
And yet, I trusted her.
"You good?" Ray asked, noticing my pause.
I blinked, forcing myself to move, to shrug like nothing was off. "Yeah. Just taking it in."
"Crazy, huh? Never thought I'd see the day—Logan Carter, front and center at a K-pop show."
I smirked. "Don't get used to it."
Before Ray could say anything else, the radio on my vest crackled.
"Carter, the tour's head of security just arrived. He's looking for you."
I exhaled. "On my way."
One last glance at the poster.
Then I turned and walked away.
Because tonight?
Tonight, Ji-an and the rest of Nova would be here.
And in the middle of a 100,000-person crowd, I had a weird feeling—
That something was about to change.