Page 22 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

It felt like several minutes had passed before we finally turned down a quiet, plushly-padded corridor.

About halfway down, Eun reached a door and knocked brusquely.

He had just raised his fist to knock again, when the door swung open and there stood Jihoon, smiling broadly at me and giving Eun a brisk bow.

“Kaiya, I’m so happy to see you.” His face was like sunshine, his expression so genuine, so open that it tugged on my heartstrings.

“Hi, Jihoon,” I said shyly, tucking my hands into my pockets.

“Please, come in,” he said, gesturing for me to enter. I chanced a brief look up at Eun, and though his face was stony, it didn’t seem unkind. Just… disapproving. Jihoon didn’t seem to care and closed the door behind me as I stepped over the threshold.

“Wow,” I murmured, looking around the well-appointed room, but I was really looking straight past it all to the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran along the whole back wall, looking out over downtown LA and as far reaching as the distant mountain range.

The suite itself was really two rooms: a bedroom, visible through a door to my left, and the main room we were standing in.

In front of the windows was a seating area with a plush sofa and two padded chairs arranged under a hanging lamp, and further along the back wall, a small dining area clearly positioned to take advantage of the view.

The main living area was as big as our entire apartment, I thought wryly to myself.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a bit of everything,” Jihoon said.

He led me over to the dining area, where the table ? set for two ? was indeed laden with different dishes of pastries; toast and assorted butter, jams and preserves; and bowls of brightly coloured fruits, yogurts and even some small, individual boxes of cereal.

“This looks great, thank you,” I said, my stomach rumbling at seeing all the food. Just as he’d done when we ate lunch on Saturday, Jihoon pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit, pushing it in for me as I did so. It was such a little gesture, but it made me feel warm.

Jihoon sat in the chair opposite me and offered me a plate filled with pastries. “Please, eat,” he encouraged. I took a Raspberry Danish and, together, we began to eat.

It was all delicious, the pastry in particular making my eyes flutter closed in pleasure, which made Jihoon laugh. Then he tried one and his laughter silenced in favour of quiet enjoyment.

We’d made a pretty big dent into the pile of food when I pushed my plate of toast and jam away and leaned back in my chair, declaring, “I can’t eat another thing, or you’ll have to roll me out of here.” That made Jihoon laugh again.

“Like Violet from ‘Willy Wonka’”, he said, surprising me.

“Exactly like that,” I moaned, rubbing my belly, accidentally moving the fabric of my shirt when it caught on my navel piercing, the metal bar and gemstone glinting in the light pouring in through the plate-glass windows and drawing Jihoon’s gaze.

“You have a piercing,” he said, sounding surprised.

I pulled down my shirt, self-consciously. “Yeah, the product of a drunken night out when I was eighteen.”

Jihoon looked back at the door to his suite, and then back to me, his eyebrows lowered and a playful smirk on his face.

He held a finger to his lips and said, “Ssh, don’t tell anyone.

” And then, to my surprise, he lifted his top up.

Once I’d taken a second to get over the shock, I noticed what he must have intended me to see, which was a black lined feather drawn around his side right over his ribs.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed, leaning forward in my chair, taking a closer look. “It’s so well drawn,” I commented, “it almost looks real.”

He nodded. “I went to Japan for the artist, he’s the best.”

I let out a self-derisory little huff and said, “I just went into town for mine.”

“You have a tattoo?” He looked surprised.

In answer, I lifted my leg, unlaced my converses, and pulled off my sock. I held out my foot to show him the cluster of vines and flowers I had trailing over the top of my foot and around my ankle.

“Cool,” he said, eyes focused on my foot as he scooted his chair to get closer.

Gently, he grasped my foot in his hand and pulled it forward so it rested on his jeans-clad knee.

My breath caught in my throat as he gently began to trace the meandering vines.

I don’t think he meant it to be anything more than innocent appreciation of good ink, but the more he ran his fingers over my ankle, the more uncomfortable I got. In the good way.

When I squirmed, he looked up at me and must have seen something in my eyes because he grinned at me, the expression proprietary. He did not remove his fingers, but instead traced patterns over my foot that had nothing to do with the inky flowers.

A sudden knock at the door had us springing apart like errant teenagers, but when no one burst in, I let out a strained giggle. Jihoon got up to open the door and I hastily pulled my sock and shoe back on.

I looked over to the door and could see the tall outline of Eun stood there, but he and Jihoon conversed in low tones and even if it was in English and not Korean, I wouldn’t have been able to make it out.

Finished talking, Jihoon headed back to me, leaving Eun stood in the doorway, watching us.

“The car is ready,” he said, holding out a hand to me, which was about the same moment I realised that obviously we wouldn’t be taking the metro or a bus around the city.

I mentally face-palmed that it hadn’t occurred to me earlier.

I took Jihoon’s outstretched hand and allowed him to pull me to my feet, but he held onto my hand as we crossed the room, the warmth of his palm a correlating heat to the expanding warmth in my chest.

Once we reached the door, however, he let it go but flashed me a brief smile so it didn’t hit so hard.

Just as before, Eun guided us back through the halls of the hotel and down to the ground floor to the street, where not far away, a black SUV was waiting at the kerb .

We were hustled into the car quickly, Jihoon sliding in first and only once we were settled did I see that Youngsoo was sat in the front seat. He was turned around to watch us, his face unreadable.

“Miss Thompson,” he nodded at me, surprising me that he knew my last name and I had a sneaky suspicion that he’d looked me up.

“Hi Youngsoo,” I said, waving awkwardly.

“Jihoon said you’d made plans for the day. Where would you like us to take you?” I’d had no idea he spoke such fluent English. I was beginning to feel like the odd one out, with only my rudimentary command of GCSE French.

“Um, I thought we could go to Santa Monica. The beach there is really pretty, and they have a fairground on a pier.” I said this to Jihoon, who nodded enthusiastically at me.

Youngsoo looked over at the driver and said, “Take us there.” I saw the back of the driver’s head nod, and off we went, merging seamlessly into the mid-morning LA traffic.

It wasn’t a long way, but the traffic at this time in the morning made it slower. It didn’t seem to bother Jihoon, who stared out of the windows the whole time with interest.

We made small talk about how different it was to Seoul, how different to the UK, how many times he’d visited, how long I’d been here. Surface level conversation, constantly aware of Youngsoo, Eun and the driver also being in the car with us.

It felt just like that time I went on a date with Leighton Myers in year 10 and his parents had chaperoned us. Same vibes.

Finally, we pulled up to the short-stay car park on the ocean front-walk. It was still early, so there weren’t many people milling about yet.

“It opens at 10:00am,” I said, looking down at my watch. “It looks like we got here right on time.”

Looking up, I saw Youngsoo hand Jihoon a cap and a pair of dark sunglasses, which he promptly put on.

I cocked my head to the side, trying to see past the accessories.

I mean, I knew it was Jihoon so I could tell it was him, but if I didn’t know, or I wasn’t looking for him, I wouldn’t be able to tell.

He was just a guy wearing Ray-Bans, a Cubs cap and nondescript baggy clothes.

He looked like any other 20-something you might find hanging out in Santa Monica .

“What do you think?” he said.

I nodded my approval., “You’ll do.” He smirked and opened his door, the bright sunlight making me raise my hand up to cover my eyes.

“Miss Thompson,” Youngsoo pulled my attention back to him, and away from the way the sun framed Jihoon like some sort of religious idol. Youngsoo held out a pair of mirrored shades to me.

“For me?” I said, surprised at the gesture.

He shrugged, as if embarrassed. “Just in case,” he said, not elaborating on what the ‘case’ might be.

I gratefully accepted the sunglasses and opened my side door, stepping out into the bright sunshine of LA in April.