Page 12 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

B ecka was not pleased with me. I’d told her ? briefly, and leaving a lot out ? about the interaction I’d had with Jihoon on Saturday.

She’d made me sit at the kitchen island and listen to a lecture about crossing professional boundaries and how never once had it ended well when a famous musician had gotten involved with ‘a normy’. Much less, an ‘intern’. This last word seemed to make a big difference.

“The scandal practically writes itself!” She’d exclaimed as she paced back and forth in front of the fridge, fanning herself with a hand.

“Becka, open the fridge," I said calmly.

She halted in her tracks and turned to look at me, frowning as her hand hovered over the door handle. "Why?"

"Because you need to chill,” I said, face perfectly straight.

Becka rolled her eyes and flipped me the bird as she continued with her pacing.

“This is not that big of a deal.” I'd insisted.

Now, once more with feeling because even I didn’t buy it when I said that.

“The idol gives you his phone number, and it’s not a big deal?” Becka stopped pacing, but the alternative wasn’t any better; instead she was leaning over the kitchen island, looking at me like my next words had better be the confession to a murder, or I was going away for a long time.

“You have the rapper’s number!” I shot back, not using his real name because he’d been a nightmare. Again, begins with a D (for dickhead), ends with an E (Ego).

Becka waved this away, saying, “he gave it to any woman standing still long enough. Not the same thing!”

“So surely this is a better situation, then!” I insisted, “Seeing as how he respected me enough to ask?”

The look she gave me could have melted the ice in my glass of water. “It’s even worse that the idol is nice!”

“He has a name.” I had begun to bristle a bit, I admit.

“Maybe so, but he’s not just ‘Jihoon’, though, is he? He is, ‘the idol’.” She softened her tone, “That’s all he ever can be to you, babes.” She came and sat on the stool next to me.

“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but you need to understand this.

When he’s done recording, he’ll be gone, and where will you be?

In exactly the same place. This isn’t ‘Pretty Woman’, he isn’t going to climb the fire escape for you.

He is not for you, Ky.” Becka tried putting her hand on my arm, but I stood up, trying to pass it off casually.

“Look, I hear you,” I said. “I know all of that. I’m not trying to get myself a situationship. I’m not here to groupie. I know what this is and it’s harmless! It’s just a harmless flirtation, if it’s that at all. Once he’s gone, he’s gone. I get it.”

And I did. I did get it, and I’m pretty sure I did a good enough job of convincing Becka that I did, in fact, understand that this wasn’t a thing, because she did drop it after that.

But, for the whole rest of Saturday and Sunday, I felt wrong. Off-balance and deeply conflicted.

Which is why ? I told myself ? that I didn’t text him.

But, he didn’t text me either, so…

I walked into Pisces on Monday in a foul mood.

No sleep, barely having eaten anything since Saturday, confused as all hell. Yeah, I was pissy.

It’s didn’t help that Jeremy had already texted me to tell me to carry on cataloguing the crap in storage.

I didn’t really mind the work, but damn if it wasn’t mind-numbing.

And dusty. Super dusty. Becka was coming in later, she’d taken the morning off for a ‘dentist’ appointment, (read: she was getting her nails done).

So, when I stopped in front of the elevator to wait for it to come down, my mood was not improved by Trevor Kyle stopping to stand next to me. Unnecessarily close, I observed.

“Well, if it isn’t our newest intern,” he said lightly.

It was not in my best interest to be anything less than polite and friendly, so I half-turned to him and said, “Good morning, Mr Kyle.”

“Trevor, please.” He waved his hand in a very good impression of magnanimous joviality. Like he was just like one of us peons .

When the door opened, he held his hand out in front of me, smiling, and taking my cue, I boarded the elevator, but before I could press the button, he put a hand on my arm.

“What floor?”

I was puzzled. I’d entered on the side closest to the button panel. It was literally six inches from my left elbow.

“Um, two,” I said. And then, to my surprise, he leaned past me to press the ‘2’ button. He was so close that I was momentarily engulfed in a cloud of his cologne. It wasn’t that strong, blessedly, and I’m sure it was eye-wateringly expensive, but I had to force down a cough.

The moment the doors closed, I began to wish I’d taken the stairs. There was no reason why he needed to stand so close to me, it was a big elevator. He was so much taller than me, I felt crowded and I knew it was deliberate.

He didn’t say a word to me, but when he put his hand on the small of my back, I got the message.

My t-shirt skimmed the top of my jeans, so it really wasn’t hard for him to brush his pinkie finger downward, hooking it slightly under the soft fabric of my shirt.

He ran that finger lightly back and forth, tracing patterns into my back, branding me.

I froze in a kind of panic. My fingers started tingling and I had to really focus on keeping my face neutral. Pretending it wasn’t happening.

Finally, the doors chimed and rolled open, but I felt frozen to the spot, my knees locked into place.

Which is around the same time I noticed Jihoon standing there.

He was smiling as the doors opened, and when my eyes met his, I wanted so badly to feel the warmth I saw in them.

I saw the moment his gaze dropped to where Trevor Kyle still had his hand on my back.

He stood close to me, but there was a gap between our bodies, it must have been quite clear where his hand was.

I felt my face crumple at the same moment I regained control over my body. I took in a great gust of breath as I forced myself to step forward, returning the slight bow from Youngsoo and the habitual, but unsure one from Jihoon.

“Good morning, I mumbled.” I rushed past the group, making a bee line for the studio I was working in that day.

“Our tech interns are always rushing off somewhere.” Trevor Kyle laughed .

Arrogant dickhead. There are no tech interns. And I’m literally the only intern in the building. Fucker.

I rushed into Studio 2 and shut the door behind me, barely even noticing that it was pitch black in there as I leant back against the door, taking a tremulous breath in, trying to settle myself.