Page 63 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

W e’d woken up in the middle of the night to make love again, slow and unhurried, a more thorough exploration of what we each liked, but the answer had been everything, so far.

Waking up in the morning in the circle of his arms had been a revelation.

The warmth going beyond skin deep feeling and instead being the kind of warmth that makes a person feel that much more kindly toward the world, even when the world in question was at that moment leaning on its horn in the street below.

“Gah, what an asshat,” I grumbled, wondering how the driver’s horn could blare continuously for so long.

Underneath my cheek, Jihoon chuckled, jiggling me ever-so-slightly. His hand lifted to gently trace the contour of my spine, a decidedly nicer way to wake up.

“He’s just letting us know what time it is.”

“How can you tell?” I leaned my chin on his chest, looking up at the way his mouth quirked in that way I like.

“No one sounds his horn for that long, unless he’s late for work. It must be around 9:00am. ”

“I admire the skills of deduction that went into that, but it’s a Sunday.” I smirked before rolling onto my back and stretching my whole body, cracking my spine, wincing slightly at the way the muscles of my inner thighs ached.

Jihoon rolled onto his side to face me as he propped his head up on his hand, his eyes roving over my body uncovered by the duvet.

“How do you feel?”

“Hmm, you tell me how I feel,” I grinned, loving the slight narrowing of his eyes.

“I could write an entire album about it, and it still wouldn’t be enough to describe it.”

My toes curled as delighted tingles coursed over my skin, raising tiny bumps on my arms.

“Or, I could just show you.” The glint in his eyes was my only warning before he lunged for me, but quick as a whip, I darted out of his reach and out of bed.

“Not before breakfast!” I giggled.

“But I’m hungry now!” He rose to his knees, arms outstretched to snag me as I passed ? not made difficult in my tiny room. I shrieked in delight and dodged him by ducking underneath and pulling my door open, laughing as I danced out into the living room.

“ARGH! ARGH! NAKED FLESH, MY EYES, SWEET BABY JESUS AND ALL THE SAINTS, MY EEYYES!” Becka screeched, dropping her travel mug on the floor, where it pinged and bounced for several feet.

“Oh fuck! Ah, shit! Fuuuuuuuucccccckkkk!” I cried, darting back into my room and slamming the door closed. I leant against it, the wood cold on my backside as my chest heaved.

Jihoon stood statue-still beside the bed, his hands covering his mouth, eyes wide as saucers as we both listened to Becka on the other side of the door, still shrieking obscenities and garbled nonsense.

Until-

“It’s ten in the gods-damned morning, put some clothes on, this ain’t no commune!” Becka pounded on my door, hard enough to make me spring away from it, as if it might bite.

As if the spell had been broken, Jihoon puffed out a breath, choked on a laugh and a moan of distress. I pounded him on the back, trying to sooth him as I said, “she’s joking.” I hoped so, anyway.

A few minutes ? and a handful of kisses ? later, we hurriedly tugged on our clothes and cracked the bedroom door open, both of us peeking around it.

Becka had her back to us, pouring milk into a cup of coffee.

As she went to put the carton back in the fridge, she spotted us over her shoulder and rolled her eyes so expansively it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of her head.

“Good grief, you two. Like a couple of meerkats, you can come out now.”

Holding Jihoon’s hand for support, I moved away from the door and stepped into the living area.

Becka stood at the kitchen counter, stirring her mug slowly, eyes narrowed at us as we moved towards the coffee and, by proxy, her.

She pushed a spray bottle across the counter, the water inside sloshing. “I’m not afraid to use this,” her eyes narrowed, but I know I saw her lips quivering.

I left Jihoon to sit on the stool facing into the kitchen as I moved around the counter to pour myself a coffee.

I knew Jihoon didn’t drink caffeine in the morning, so I grabbed him a bottle of water out of the fridge and slid it to him.

He grabbed it gratefully, opening it immediately and finishing half of it off in one go.

While I was distracted by the oddly alluring movement of his throat, Becka joked, “didn’t you give this poor boy any water while he was here? You’re a terrible host.

“I was literally coming to get us breakfast when you interrupted me,” I grumbled.

“First of all, ew,” Becka commented, “that’s just unsanitary. Secondly, no need. I swung past Maria’s Cafe on my way back and picked up a breakfast platter. I figured you’d be hungry.” She leered at me, waggling her perfectly micro-bladed eyebrows at me.

I blushed, a deep crimson I felt down to my soul. Becka laughed.

“Come on, help me unpack that brown bag,” she indicated the large, brown sack I hadn’t noticed until now. Before I could move, Jihoon was there, pulling out different sizes of Styrofoam containers and putting them on the counter.

“Oh, that smells so good,” I moaned as the scents of pastries, bacon and sugary things wafted out of the boxes .

“Right?” Becka grinned at me, and as a trio, we sat at the counter opening the boxes and helping ourselves, companionable chatter and laughter the soundtrack to the morning.

A car came for Jihoon at 1:00pm, after one of the best mornings I could remember.

The three of us had lain about talking about this and that, catching up on Married at First sight, and discussing Jihoon’s upcoming schedule, but with more casualness than I’d managed recently.

It now seemed less fraught. The pressure to keep on top of it had eased.

It felt so easy to just be Jihoon’s girlfriend once I’d put aside the need to follow every move the group made.

Becka and I had painted each other’s toenails, while Jihoon reclined on the sofa wearing one of Becka’s sheet masks. It had been… honestly, wonderful.

It was within that bubble of happiness that I’d been able to push aside all thoughts of Jihoon having to leave, but of course that time had crept up on us.

“I’ll call you when I land,” he promised, holding me tight.

I only nodded, not trusting myself to speak. We’d already agreed I wouldn’t go down to the street to see him off. He’d said I’d watched him drive away too many times already, which I couldn’t disagree with .

Becka had gone to her room to unpack, giving us a bit of privacy, and so it was without an audience, but also without a trace of awkwardness that I leaned my forehead against his chest and whispered, “I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Saranghae, Kaiya.”

I smiled but kept the fact that I’d understood him to myself. I still hadn’t told him I’d been learning Korean, not wanting to disappoint him when I kept confusing words like ‘milk’ and ‘cucumber’. It felt important to at least get the basics down.

But ‘saranghae’… that I understood.

“You’d better go,” I said reluctantly. He sighed, but moved away from me to pick his bag up off the floor before heading to the door. He pulled on his hat and a pair of shades before opening it, turning to give me one last look.

“See you in a few weeks,” he smiled.

“A few weeks,” I echoed.

One lingering look later, and he’d turned away, the door closing behind him, leaving me in the hallway that still echoed from last night.

“You alright?” Becka leaned on the doorframe to her bedroom, a sympathetic look on her face.

I sighed again. “I’ll be fine, but let’s talk about it all later, okay? I need a shower.”

Becka walked towards me and gave me a brief, but firm hug.

“You’re paying for my therapy and my dry cleaning, by the way.”

“What dry cleaning,” I asked, puzzled, trying to discern any stains on her clothes, but finding none.

“I’ll be taking my eyeballs to get bleached.”

“Oh, shut up,” I bumped her with my hip, turning toward the bathroom. Her laughter followed me, even after I’d shut the door.