Page 66 of A World Apart
“No, really. I really thought you never wanted to speak to me again. I couldn’t sleep. I kept trying to think of what I’d done!” He held a hand to his heart, scrunching up his face as if he was in agony and I laughed again.
“I’m sorry, I’ll never do that again.” I held my hand up like I was making a vow, and Jihoon nodded earnestly.
“Good, that’s a promise!”
Just as we were laughing at each other’s silliness, Jihoon’s head snapped around to stare at something out of view. He said something I didn’t understand and nodded his head a few times before he turned back to me.
“I have to go,” he said, looking regretful. “We’re working on something.” He held a finger up to his lips, making a ‘ssh’ face and I grinned.
“I can’t wait to hear it.”
“I’ll message you.” And with a final wave, he’d gone.
It was only after the call had ended, and after I’d pushed my head into the pillow and screeched with glee, and happiness, and all the emotions that bubbled up over, that I realised:
“He called me Ky.”
And I grinned all over again. Nicknames felt that much more... More.
The next day, a massive bouquet of spring flowers arrived, complete with a beautiful cut-glass vase.
“I was just thinking we needed a massive vase for all the flower arrangements we get,” Becka said, bumping my hip with hers as we both stared at the colourful mound of blooms dominating our small kitchenette.
“Extravagant idol, isn’t he?” she added, pretending to sidestep around the spray of flowers to reach the kettle. I couldn’t reply − I was too busy smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
Chapter 23
The phone rang softly, waking me from a dream I forgot the moment my eyes opened. I looked over to my phone and, seeing the incoming video call, I reached out a hand and slid my finger up the screen.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Jihoon’s voice had become my favourite way to wake up. His smooth, accented voice never failed to bring a smile to my face. If I’d ever thought that regularly hearing his voice would become normal, I’d yet to experience that. Each time he said my name elicited a thrill like nothing else.
I smiled, sleepily, and rolled over so that I was more fully facing the phone that was docked on my bedside table, Jihoon’s face filling the screen. He was dressed in an over-size, dark blue t-shirt and his hair was rumpled.
“You going to bed?” I asked, stifling a yawn.
“Yes, it was a busy day.” He nodded and copied my yawn, which only made me yawn again.
“Can you tell me anything about it?” I asked, although he couldn’t always say. He had been clear that if he could, he would discuss the group’s schedule, but his contract was absolutely airtight. He could only discuss what was publicly known,or at least what had been released to the press, and I didn’t want to push him. Even if I was wildly curious. I was still a fan, after all.
Jihoon looked thoughtful. It had been speculated about online whether the group would release a new album this year. The expectation was that they would − they released at least one a year − but with the expected tour next year, no one was certain.
“I can’t say much, but we’ve just finalised our schedules for the year. It’s going to be busy.” He looked tired, but happy, so I supposed that was a good thing.
“I hope you get to rest though.” They were always doing something, with so few periods of real rest. I hated the thought of him being tired all the time.
“I will, I promise. You’re so cute.” He grinned at me and I pulled my duvet up to my chin, acting as shyly as I really did feel. It still felt strange to be complimented by someone who looked like he did. I’d forget about it one moment, and then he’d change his expression, and all over again I’d be knocked on my ass by how good looking he was. I was really out of my league.
“No, you,” I said, and he smiled, a stupid little joke that had become a kind of thing we did now.
I held my arm up to wake my watch and, seeing the time, I bolted upright.
“I gotta get up and get dressed!”
“Don’t let me stop you.” He smirked at me and I resisted the urge to fan my face with my hand. I loved the way that he made me feel so desirable, even first thing in the morning, when I probably had dried drool stuck to my cheek.
“Stop distracting me.” I pointed at him, throwing off the bed covers, careful to make sure my long shirt was covering me appropriately, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down, or the look of interest that passed his face. And nor did I really make much effort to make sure my shirt covered a lot of my thighs.
“Call me later?” he asked, innocently.
