Page 22 of Fallen Starboy

Chapter

Eighteen

JUN

She must be exhausted.

The minute we pulled away from the curb, Arista’s head was already against the window, her eyelids drooping slightly.

By the time we’d moved into rush hour traffic, she’d all but started to snore softly, her lips parted just barely, lashes caressing her cheeks.

She shifted in her seat, and a piece of paper slipped out from behind her, sitting innocently on the seat between us.

So of course, since she’d been hiding it when we walked up, I was gonna read it.

I knew I shouldn’t. I knew better than to invade someone else’s privacy. But I rationalized it away by reminding myself I’d been balls deep inside her not too long ago. If she trusted me enough to let me fuck her, then dammit, she should trust me with whatever it was she was hiding.

I picked up the paper and skimmed through the first few lines, my eyes widening when I read the words Incident Report on the top.

What the fuck kind of incident had she had to file a report about?

My eyes raced across the page as the car slowed down to navigate congested traffic, my heart sinking with every word I read.

In Korea, I’d had to deal with stalker fans—saesangs, they called them.

One band had a girl sneak into their air vents and try to record them in various states of undress.

Another band had a run-in with a dude whose girlfriend had built a shrine to one of the members.

Dude nearly succeeded in kidnapping the member, but thankfully, the security team caught them at the last minute.

To find that the same problems persisted with international fans, too, was a little disheartening. I’d hoped to not have to deal with that in a new place.

Then again, it seemed like the ones here were more dangerous and brave.

He pulled what felt like a gun and put the barrel to my head, leading me to the stairwell as he instructed me to get off the phone.

The words on the page were so straightforward, each one sent a chill down my spine as I read about what she’d been subjected to the minute she’d walked away from me earlier.

He threatened me. His voice was unfamiliar.

The pen had left a single drop of ink between that word and her next line, like she’d started to write something, then hesitated before continuing. Was she afraid to put down what happened? Or were her next words a lie?

I have no idea why he stopped me. Security arrived before I could find out.

I shoved the paper hastily back behind her hip and turned to look out the window, but my gaze didn’t stay there for long. There was a ton of scenery to take in, all of it stunning, but my eyes only wanted to drink in the view beside me in the car.

Her.

I watched her chest rise and fall as she slept, a crease in her brows giving away the worry and frustration in her even as she slept. Every time her lashes twitched, I wondered what she was dreaming of. Selfishly, I hoped it was me.

I had no reason to want that, to deserve that, but I couldn’t help it.

If she deserved to dream of anything, it was me.

She should have me on her mind any time she closed her eyes, or took a moment to breathe.

I wanted to be the thing that kept her up at night.

I hoped she had to live with the thought of me from the moment she broke my heart and walked away.

The driver swerved to avoid a car who nearly clipped us, and Arista slid sideways, practically landing in my lap.

I didn’t want there to be any room for anyone else in that pretty little head of hers.

It was only fair, considering she was never far from my mind.

It was hard to forget someone when their replica stared you in the face every day.

I couldn’t look at Yejin, at our daughter, without seeing her mother.

I caught her easily and let her lean against my chest, still sleeping soundly despite the abrupt movement. At some point, her hands clenched in the fabric of my shirt, and I didn’t have the heart to pull them away.

Instead, my traitorous heart clenched as I tightened my grip on her and pulled her closer, breathing in the scent of her shampoo as she nuzzled against me all the way home.

When we pulled up, she stirred, but didn’t wake up.

I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so with a shake of my head, I dismissed Pujin and tugged her into my arms, finagling us both out of the car with minimal difficulty.

She clung to me as she snored softly, and I marched into the house and up the stairs like I did this every day.

Once upon a time, I had.

Ari used to get so tired on late night shifts, and when we all rode the shuttle back to the dorms, I usually volunteered to carry her inside.

She and the rest of the staff had a set of rooms across the hall from us, but I’d walk slow enough that they were already out of the hall and behind closed doors, so I could stay with her a little while.

Watching her sleep was my favorite pastime. She managed to look so innocent and helpless and happy in her dreams.

She didn’t wear the same carefree face anymore when she passed out. I could see the worry lines and the stress in every inch of her pinched brows.

A part of my heart broke for her.

Somewhere along the way, she’d lost the girl she used to be. I wondered if it happened slowly, over time, or if one day she just woke up and broke apart.

For me, it was both.

For some reason, I didn’t take her to her own room. Instead, I blinked, and we were in my room. My mind on autopilot decided she belonged in here, in my bed, instead of behind another wall, another door. She belonged to me.

I didn’t feel like analyzing that thought, either. I wasn’t a naturally possessive man by any means. But the more time I spent with Arista, the more I discovered about myself.

Though it was tempting to stay and watch her sleep like I used to, I batted away the urge and shut the door quietly behind me as I left the room, already calling for Pujin to up security around the house.

I wasn’t sure if she’d really known the man who stood her at gunpoint, but I didn’t want to take any chances where all of our safety was concerned.

Arista slept through dinner, which was just takeout I’d ordered from a local store.

With Yejin tucked into a corner of the couch with a book to read, I slowly climbed the stairs, itching for a shower to take all this makeup and sweat and hair product off my body.

Fuck, the shit they dressed you up with to keep you looking good through a whole ass dance montage was insane. And sticky, too.

I shoved my door open as I ripped my shirt over my head, completely forgetting I wasn’t alone in here as my hands moved to my zipper, preparing to unbutton my pants.

“Ahem.”

I froze like a deer in the headlights, my head swiveling to my bed, where Arista sat, dead center, her hair tangled and messy, confusion in her eyes behind the barely-concealed heat and attraction as she gave me a once-over.

Fuck, I liked her eyes on me.

Only me.

“See something you like?” I taunted, giving her a sly grin as I popped the first button with a wink. “All you gotta do is admit you want it.”

She licked her lips as I flicked another button, and then shook her head to clear her thoughts. “No, thank you.” The covers moved to the side as she slipped from my bed, making a beeline for the door. “But thanks for bringing me inside and letting me sleep.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, remembering the words she’d written on that report. “I figure having a gun to your head takes a lot out of you.”

She spun around in a flash, betrayal written on every line in her face. “You read my incident report?”

I shrugged, slipping my pants over my hips. They hit the floor at my feet and I stepped out of them, never once self-conscious about my nudity with her. “It was on the seat. I was bored. And you weren’t awake to ask.”

“You’re an asshole,” she spat, her hand back on the doorknob. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”

“We live together, and you’ve had my dick inside of you. I think we’re well past privacy, wouldn’t you say?”

Her snort of derision was like a knife to the back. Fuck, that stung. My ego wasn’t over-inflated, but she still knew how to hit me where it counted.

“I don’t remember asking for a repeat performance. Maybe don’t oversell yourself, Jun.”

And now I was bleeding, figuratively.

“You’re a fucking heartless bitch, you know that?” When she slipped out and slammed the door behind her, I threw a pillow off the bed at her back, raging like a fucking teenager again. “God, she’s so insufferable.”

Minutes later, I was still fuming, my hand pressed against the wall of my fancy shower as the other one gripped my cock, tugging and pulling while images of her raced through my brain.

I closed my eyes, remembering the way she looked atop me in my bed, riding my cock like she was made to do it.

The way she looked up at me with those tears glistening in her eyes as I fucked into her, caging her in with my arms, her hair fanned out over my pillow like an angel.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Arista,” I groaned, my hand speeding up as I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, hips jerking as I came across the wall and floor, painting the tile with the seed I’d rather put inside of her.

Fuck, why did she do this to me?

Even after all these years, here I was like a randy fucking teenager, humping my hand to get off to thoughts of her, of the girl I shouldn’t want, but still did.

“Fucking hell,” I swore, slamming a fist into the tile without thinking. And then I swore again, louder this time, as I realized my mistake.

My hand was bleeding, the tile was cracked, and I might’ve broken a knuckle.

Great.