Page 10 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

“ H ey, hey, hey!” Becka called from where she was laying on the couch, “where the fuck are you going?” She paused the show she was watching on Netflix.

I pulled on my plaid scarf before answering. “I’m going to Pisces. I left my earbuds there. I need them to write music.” Perfectly valid excuse.

“Bullshit!” Becka cried. “You’re going there to see the idol!” She pointed the remote at me, accusingly.

“He’s not even there today!” I protested, pulling on my black beanie.

“You know the fuck he is!” She looked outraged. I shrugged in response, grabbing my rucksack and slinging it over my shoulder.

“I’ll be back later,” I called, heading out the door. I heard her call something with the word ‘ho’ in it, but I was already half-way down the hall.

It doesn’t take long to get to Pisces from our apartment by bus. Just long enough for me to change my mind back and forth, oh, half a dozen times by the time we got to my stop, a few minute’s walk from the building .

Despite my inconstant thoughts, my legs kept propelling me onwards. Just like how my hand reached into my pocket and withdrew my keycard and then swiped it against the black pad next to the side entrance door.

“Earbuds,” I muttered to myself as I pushed open the door and walked into the cool lobby and towards the elevators.

“He’s not even here,” I muttered as I got off on the third floor.

“See?” I said to myself as I opened my locker and grabbed my little earbud case.

As if on instinct, I looked down the corridor to where Becka’s office was.

Obviously though, she was still at home, presumably still on the sofa watching Netflix.

There were a couple people in though; there always were.

Pisces was a famous studio and we had clients all over the world in different time zones.

I pressed the call button for the elevator and waited. Slapping my keycard against my palm, tapping my foot on the floor, humming to myself.

This elevator was taking ages.

“Bollocks to it,” I hissed and shoved open the door to the stairwell and stomped down the steps.

When I got to the door to the second floor, I stopped. I lingered and debated with myself. Me, myself, and I all knew he was probably here. Time is money, you never want to spend longer than needed on studio time.

My fingers lightly pressed against the metal plate of the door, hesitating.

I suppose I could briefly see if he’s here. No harm in a quick look. And I’m here, after all. Sounded reasonable to me, so I pushed against the door and entered the second floor.

It was dark in the corridor. Only the low-level emergency lights, the green ‘Exit’ sign, and the red light above the door to Studio 3 were on. The light above the door indicated that not only was the studio occupied, but that it was currently in use.

The ceiling spotlights came on as I walked down the corridor, not that I needed the light to see where I was going. I couldn’t hear anything the closer I got, but that could have been because of the excellent soundproofing in the rooms.

In this instance, it was because there was actually no sound being made. The producer’s deck was empty, the big, padded chair turned around and empty.

My heart sank, the room was empty .

I looked up at the red light, puzzled, but then, why ?

And that’s when I saw Jihoon pushing open the door that led to the vocal booth.

He stopped by the empty producer’s chair and took a drink from the water bottle he was holding.

In the process of tipping his head back, he looked over to the door, spotting me peeping in the porthole window, like some sort of creeper.

Quickly, I ducked back out of view, heart hammering.

A moment later, the door to the studio opened and Jihoon poked his head out. He smiled at me, a surprised, but pleased smile.

“Kaiya! I didn’t think you’d be here today,” he said, stepping out fully into the corridor, letting the studio door close behind him. It did not escape my attention that this brought us closer together. Close enough that I could just reach out my hand...

“Ah, I forgot these yesterday,” I said, waving my earbuds case like it was evidence. “I just came in to get them.”

He made an ‘ah’ sound and shoved his hands in his pockets. I wondered if it occurred to him that I probably could have retrieved my earbuds without the detour to his studio.

“Where’s TK?” I asked to cover the burgeoning silence.

He frowned, cocking his head to the side. “TK?” And then his expression cleared. “Oh! Trevor Kyle, TK.”

I giggled. Good grief. There was something about this man that reduced me to a simpering teenager.

“Yeah, sorry,” I cringed, “bad habit.”

He waved his hands. “No, no, I get it.” A look passed his face that I couldn’t decipher.

“You know,” he started, looking down at the floor and toeing the carpet with his black boots, “you can call me Joon. If you want.” he amended quickly.

“Most people do. It’s easier than saying my full name.

” It could have been the glow of the red light above us, but I could have sworn his face pinked up. Adorable.

I smiled, feeling fluttery.

“Because ‘Jihoon’ is so hard?” I teased. He looked back up at me and smiled, his eyes crinkling.

“You say it well. I don’t mind; Joon, Jihoon, whatever you like. ”

Holy hell, the flutters engulfed my entire torso now, no longer content to be confined to my stomach. My chest felt light, giddy, as I took a deep breath in.

“In that case, you can call me Ky. That’s what my friends call me.” I grinned at him.

Just then, the ceiling lights went out, plunging us into darkness, the sensor not detecting enough movement to keep on.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “The sensors,” I said, uselessly. I went to raise my arm to wave it around to turn them back on, but just then Jihoon reached out a hand and took my wrist. Startled, I looked at him quizzically.

“It’s better,” he said. “Not so bright,” he explained, flicking a finger in the vague direction of his eyes.

“Ok,” I said quietly, the darkness made me feel like I should be quiet.

But what followed was a silence that started to feel.

.. heavy, the longer it went on. He still held my wrist. I licked my lips, suddenly nervous.

I began to wonder if he could hear the thumping of my heart, like I could hear the breaths he took.

I don’t know which of us began to move first, but as inevitable as rain fall in the spring, we began to move towards each other, a slight step here, a lean there, until I was close enough to see the way his eyes shone in the reflected light of the studio.

He had such pretty eyes; irises so dark they could have matched his pupils.

When he smiled, his eyes seemed to smile too, the corners crinkling ever-so-slightly.

Fascinated, I watched as his eyes trailed down my face, eventually falling to my mouth. My lips parted on an inhale ?

I jumped in surprise as the chime from the arriving elevator dinged loudly through the thick silence of the hallway. The ceiling spots came on as the elevator doors opened and two people stepped off.

I pulled back from Jihoon, his hand falling away from my wrist and I fiddled with my rucksack strap as I saw Trevor Kyle and Youngsoo heading towards us.

Jihoon’s other hand, the one not facing the elevator, darted out and took my hand. I turned back to him, my brows furrowed.

“Eat lunch with me?” he asked quietly, quickly, almost urgently.

I nodded as I darted a look down the corridor; the two men had slowed their steps as they looked at us in plain confusion .

“Floor three, room one.” I whispered, relieved when he nodded in understanding and let go of my hand just as Trevor and Youngsoo reached us.

Youngsoo’s eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth pinched in a firm line, but he nodded his head at me, if a bit stiffly. I repeated the gesture far more magnanimously.

Trevor Kyle, well, there was no other word for it. He smirked at me and looked me up and down, but neither one said anything to me. Youngsoo put his hand on Jihoon’s arm and seemed to push him – gently ? into the studio.

I rushed off back down the corridor, not looking back.