Page 18 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

This had become my accepted task, and although Becka had floated the idea of me not doing it today, in the spirit of distancing myself, I assured her I could handle it. I was also not sure if I wanted to do as she suggested and distance myself.

I closed the door behind me and walked over to the reception desk and as had become my habit, I grabbed the hospitality trolley and began unloading the food containers from the plastic bags.

I rearranged the contents as aesthetically as I could, fully aware that it would all just be spread out on the table in Studio 3.

I half-smiled at the futility of my actions, but didn’t stop.

I heard Donna hang up her call, so I looked over to her and said, “You knew where I was, you could have come to get me, you didn’t need to call me.” I meant it as a friendly barb, but Donna looked so affronted I might as well have suggested she start day drinking.

“I can’t leave this desk,” she sniffed.

“Are you chained by the ankles? Need me to bust you out?” I meant this as a joke, I really did, but by the withering look she gave me, you’d think I’d called her incompetent.

“Okay then,” I muttered, wheeling the trolley round and heading for the lift.

The whole way to the studio, I kept telling myself to be cool, but all that had been running through my mind all morning ? and most of last night ? was how this was the last day I was going to see Jihoon.

It made me antsy, feeling like every moment I wasn’t up here was a moment wasted.

If I was never going to see him again, I didn’t want to waste any time.

I got to the studio and looked in through the porthole window.

The producer’s chair was spun around so that I could see it was empty, so no Trevor Kyle.

From my vantage, however, I could clearly see that Jihoon was in the vocal booth and he was singing.

For a few moments, I just watched, but then Youngsoo walked past the door and not wanting to get caught peeping, I knocked lightly.

Youngsoo turned around and, seeing me, opened the door to allow me entry.

“Good afternoon,” I said, bowing slightly, still self-conscious I wasn’t doing it properly.

He returned the gesture but said nothing.

He did help me lay out the food on the table, however.

Jihoon hadn’t seen me yet, the vocal booth was directly in front of the production deck, and the table I was setting the food on was on the far side of the wall, not in direct line of sight so as not to be disruptive.

Just then, Youngsoo’s phone rang. He looked at it briefly before hurrying out of the studio to pick it up. I was now alone in the studio, besides Jihoon in the booth. I couldn’t hear him though; the volume must be going through the headset that I could see resting on the producer’s chair.

Feeling slightly voyeuristic, I just stood there, watching Jihoon sing. I watched the sway of his body as he moved with the song, leaning into it, the way his eyes scrunched closed, the way his nimble fingers pressed against his headset. The way he licked his lips.

I moved towards the deck, unconsciously hovering my fingers over the sound bar that would move the output from headset to room speaker and allow me to hear what he was singing, but I hesitated.

I knew from experience how personal a draft track was.

I didn’t have the right to intrude like that.

I let my hand drop back to my side and instead allowed myself to admire the man behind the glass, in silence.

And as I watched, I knew absolutely and without reservation that GVibes was not what I was attracted to. It was this man right here. It was the way he looked at me so intently. It was the kindness and respect he gave without hesitation. And yes, it was also that he was wildly handsome.

When he was in full performance mode with the outfits, the makeup, the faces he pulled…

it was almost hard to look at him directly.

But here, when he was just in a sound booth, not performing for anyone but the microphone…

there was even now something so perfect about him.

I couldn’t describe it, but I could feel how my body felt pulled towards him, a force so persuasive I almost took a step forward.

Without warning, Jihoon opened his eyes, almost immediately seeing me.

He jerked, grabbing at his chest before laughing and I gave a little wave.

He pointed at his ears, a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

I shook my head and lifted the headphone on the chair, pointing to them.

He looked relieved, which I thought was adorable.

One of the world’s most in-demand performers was shy.

He moved towards the door to exit the booth, and I walked to meet him, but just then, Youngsoo re-entered the room, looking surprised to see me still there. He pointed at the food on the table and said, “All okay?”

I nodded and said, “Yes, sorry, I’ll be on my way.” Youngsoo bowed and held out his hand to hold the door open for me, the hint clear as day.

I spared a look back at the booth to see Jihoon standing there, watching us. He lifted a hand in goodbye and I smiled back at him before leaving the studio.

I allowed myself one deep inhale as the door closed behind me, one last glance in the porthole window, before moving back off down the corridor and back to my task in the storage cupboard. I would keep these moments, these snippets in my memories of the time I met the popstar.

4:45

I huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of my face as I shook out my arms, tired from lifting the boxes of sheet music.

Just then, my phone chimed with a new message. I pulled it out of my pocket to see the screen illuminated, the name there making me smile as I swiped to open the message.

Joon

We’re done and we’re going to be leaving. Have you finished work yet?

[Sent 16:45]

Me

Not yet, I finish at 5.

Joon

oh I see. Will I see you?

[Sent 16:46]

I didn’t try to suppress the smile that pulled across my lips, knowing full well it was goofy, but there was no one here to see.

Me

I look like hell, you wouldn’t be missing much.

Joon

both of those things are wrong.

[Sent 16:48]

I grinned and then took a moment to try brushing the dust off, it was everywhere. After some fruitless slapping at my arms and hair, I gave it up as a bad job and tapped out a brief reply.

Me

I’m done here, I’m going upstairs to get my stuff. Maybe I’ll see you on the stairs.

I quickly stuffed the last box under the shelves, giving it a firm nudge with my boot to make it fit and hustled towards the door, closing it carefully behind me and walking quickly across the lobby.

I waved at Donna, but she only frowned at me. I wondered who ? if anyone ? she was actually friendly to, because it certainly wasn’t me.

I pushed open the door to the stairwell and made my way up, the air in there blessedly cooler, a balm to my warm face .

I was just turning the corner on the first flight when the second-floor door opened above and then closed, the sound reverberating in the enclosed space. A head popped over the railings, a familiar grin under a halo of wavy, black hair.

I took the stairs two at a time until I was level with him, breathing slightly harder from the effort.

“Hello,” I panted slightly.

“Hello,” he greeted me with a smile, but his expression shifted as his gaze caught on the side of my head.

He frowned slightly, lifting a hand as if to reach out, then hesitated.

His eyes met mine, silently asking for permission.

I didn’t say anything, just stared up at him, and whatever he saw in my eyes was all the encouragement he needed.

His long fingers reached for my hair, gently lifting a strand. As he pulled it slightly forward, I noticed a curl of shredded paper tangled in there pretty good.

Patiently, and with the dexterity of a skilled guitarist, he gently untangled the paper from my hair and let it float down the stairwell.

“Thank you,” I murmured, very aware that his fingers still lingered in my hair.

I watched as he rubbed the strand between his fingers.

My nerve endings were stretched so tight I swore I almost felt it.

When his eyes flicked back to mine, I felt it almost as a physical force, the piercing intensity wiping away the light-hearted moment and making the air between us feel as charged as a thunderstorm.

“Kaiya,” he said my name softly, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

I inhaled, “a bit late to ask that, isn’t it?” I tried to make a joke, but I could see it landed flat the moment he frowned and dropped my hair.

“Too late?” He repeated.

“Oh, no!” I said, catching on to what he thought I must have meant. I waved my hands in emphasis, “no, I don’t have a boyfriend.” I tried to laugh, but I was too breathless from my heart jumping into my throat to pull it off.

“Oh!” He smiled and sounded relieved.

“Baek Jihoon!” The sudden shout made us jump apart as if there was a fire between us.

I looked over the railings to see Youngsoo and Eun, his bodyguard, standing at the bottom of the stairwell.

Youngsoo looked cross and didn’t seem to care about hiding it, while Eun just stood there, quietly assessing, face indecipherable.

“Whoops,” Jihoon said, “they were waiting for me downstairs. I better go.” He smiled a crooked smile. “Will I see you tonight?” he asked hopefully.

I nodded. “Yes.” And then he surprised me again by raising his hand, the metal bands on his wrist clanking gently against his watch as he tucked the strand of hair back behind my ear.

“See you later.” He smiled at me before he practically ran down the stairs. I waited until I heard the door slam shut, taking the sound of footsteps and voices with it, before I leaned against the wall, puffing out a breath as I tried to calm my hammering heart.