Page 35 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

Just then, my phone buzzed with an incoming video call on WhatsApp. My dad’s cheerful face filled the screen, taken from a photo this past Christmas.

“Hi, Pops,” I said as I accepted the call, a smile already tugging at my lips.

“Hi, Mr. Thompson!” Becka called, pushing in next to me.

“Hi, girls!” Dad waved, peering down his nose at the screen.

“Dad, your glasses are on top of your head.”

“Ah, so they are.” He chuckled, sliding them down onto his nose. “Thanks, kiddo. That’s better ? I can see your beautiful faces now.”

“Aww, Mr. Thompson, you’re too cute!” Becka gushed, putting her hands under her chin.

“Am I?” Dad laughed. “Val, I’m cute!” he called off-screen. From somewhere in the house, Mum’s voice rang out, “Cute bum!”

“Argh, Dad, can you two like, not, while I’m on the phone?” I groaned, while Becka just cackled and retreated to the sofa.

“My work here is done,” she said, waving over her shoulder .

I rolled my eyes at her before turning back to my dad.

“You alright dad?” I asked. Normally I called them, it was unusual for my parents to call, especially my dad.

“Well,” he started, leaning in a bit like he was sharing a secret. “You know your mum’s birthday is coming up. I was wondering if you could come home for it.”

I immediately felt a burst of guilt, because not only had I forgotten my mum’s birthday was soon, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to get the time off. Not because I was busy, I thought with a twinge of frustration. Just that I seemed to recall my temporary contract did not allow for leave.

My dad must have seen the answer on my face because he sighed.

“That’s okay love, we know how busy you are. And it’s only for the year.” He shrugged.

“Dad, is everything okay?” I’d begun to feel uneasy. Call me paranoid, but I had a niggle…

“Of course it is!” He grinned at me, a wide smile that on any other occasion would have been reassuring. “No biggie,” he continued. “We were only thinking it would be nice to go somewhere fancy, but that’s it. No need to fuss.”

“If you’re sure….”

“Course I am! We just miss you, love.”

“I miss you too,” I said thickly. “Hey pops?”

“Hmm?”

“You’d tell me if anything was wrong, yeah?”

“Don’t be so soft,” he scoffed. “Anyway, must dash, it’s nearly time for Strictly Come Dancing, and I promised your mum I’d make her a cheese platter.”

“I want a cheese platter!” I whined.

“Better marry a man like me then.” He winked, and I laughed.

“I should be so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he said softly. “Talk to you later, love.”

As the screen went blank, I couldn't shake the unease that had crept in during the call.

“Your folks alright?” Becka called from the couch, her mouth full of bagel.

“I hope so,” I said quietly.

Labour Day weekend

“Where were you?” I whined. “I came up to the office and you weren’t there! I had to eat lunch on my own.”

Becka waved away my pout with one perfectly manicured hand. “I had to go back to the apartment to get something.”

“You went all the way home on lunch to get something?” I asked sceptically. “It’s Labour Day weekend. We won’t be back in the office until Tuesday, what was so urgent?”

“I left something there,” she said evasively, immediately piquing my interest. I wasn’t going to press it before, but I would now.

“Oh yeah? What?” I crowded her, narrowing my eyes at her. She’d crack, she always did.

“Tampons!” She squeaked.

I frowned. “Tampons?”

“Yeah, geez, give a girl a break, Inspector Ratchet.” She pushed me away gently.

“Hey, is that my bag?” I asked in confusion as Becka pulled my spare backpack out from under her desk. It was pretty obviously mine because it was covered in dinosaurs wearing party hats. I’d bought it ‘ironically,’ but I low-key loved it. It was also pretty obviously full.

“Er, yeah. Yeah, it is. I needed to go shopping on the way back to the office for….”

“For…?” I prompted.

“Snacks!”

“Snacks?” I said, propping my fists on my hips. “Uh huh. Why?”

“Oh, good grief, can we just go now, please? If I’d known you would make such a fuss about me borrowing your bag, I would have torn the apartment apart for the one I think I have in there somewhere, and left a whole load of mess.

Is that what you want?” Becka turned the full force of girl-rage on me, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

“Whoa, chill out Regan, it’s cool, use the bag.”

“Who-the-fuck-is-Regan?” she hissed.

“Regan, the little girl from the Exorcist… you know what? Never mind, let’s get you home.” I made to gently shuffle her away from the office, but she stomped ahead of me. I followed her, shrugging.

“Did you get some Tylenol and chocolate along with those Tampons?” I called after her.

Becka threw a glare over her shoulder but kept walking.

We rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence, and when the doors opened, she strode purposefully across the marble floor to the outside door, where an Uber was parked up at the pavement.

To my surprise, Becka walked straight over to it, where she had a brief conversation with the driver through the window.

“Come on,” she called to me.

“Aw Becka, not again, we can’t keep getting Ubers,” I protested.

“Just get in,” she groused and obediently, I slid in beside her.

But it soon became apparent we were not driving home, as the driver completely ignored the signs for Glendale and kept going.

“Hey,” I said in alarm, “we’re going in the wrong direction.”

“No, we’re fine,” Becka said and turned to the driver, “I gave you the right address, West Hollywood.”

“Hollywood?” I echoed in confusion. “Why the fuck are we going to Hollywood?”

“ West Hollywood,” she corrected, distracted as she looked down at her phone.

“Fine,” I gritted my teeth, “why are we going to West Hollywood? I swear, if you’re dragging me to another Dildo Party?”

“Sweet baby Jesus, can you not?!” Becka cried, glancing briefly at the driver, who to his credit, had no reaction whatsoever. “That was one time!”

“One time was enough,” I shuddered, the memories flashing through me. So much lube.

“You’re such a prude,” Becka muttered. “But no. It was meant to be a surprise, but we’re meeting a friend there, they’ve swung back into town and wanted to meet up. It’s no big deal.” She shrugged.

“I feel like you could have just told me that,” I said, slumping back in my seat. “Is that what the bag of snacks is for?”

“Yes!” Becka said with far more enthusiasm than I would have expected.

“Right, okay. Do I know them?”

“No. It’s brand-new people.”

“That you know in West Hollywood?” I was beginning to feel suspicious. Becka was a horrible actress. “Becka,” I began, “it’s not Ben, is it?

“What?” The look of alarm on her face convinced me I’d guessed right.

“It’s okay,” I said as gently as I could. “If you want some backup, I’m here for you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said with such a weird expression. I decided to drop it, she was obviously feeling very conflicted about meeting up with Ben, no wonder she was acting so weird.

We rode the rest of the way in silence. Rush hour in LA meant it took about half an hour to make the relatively short journey.

As we pulled up into a more secluded residential street, my mouth fell open.

These were nice houses. Not mansions, but nice.

Private driveways, privet hedges, security signs in front gardens, kind of nice .

I was about to ask what Ben did for a living, when Becka swung her legs out of the car and grabbed my dino rucksack.

“Hey, can you wait here for a second?” She turned round to the driver.

He shrugged. “That’s what the ride said.” I frowned, but before I could ask, Becka was telling me to hurry up, so I slid out and followed her up the driveway. There was no car parked there.

“Hey, are you sure this is the right place?” I asked, looking around.

“I’m sure,” she said before entering in a combination on a number pad she’d revealed by sliding up a discreet panel on the door.

“Oh,” I said, dumbly, as the door audibly clicked and Becka pushed down on the handle and stepped through.

“Come on,” she beckoned, and I followed, my head on a swivel as I tried to take in the sumptuous, yet not bougie foyer. It was obviously fancy, but not obnoxious. The owners had nice taste. I slipped my bag off my shoulders and left it neatly by the front door.

“We’re here!” Becka called, making me jump.

“Becka, what…” I trailed off, trying to make sense of her face. She wasn’t looking at me, she was looking straight ahead, a smile stretching her face so wide I could count her teeth.

I turned my head to follow where she was looking, but it was like I was moving in slow motion, because when I saw him, I felt the breath halt in my throat.

“Jihoon.”