Page 1 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)

“ L adies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.

“We expect to land in approximately twenty minutes, and we’ll be taxiing to the gate shortly after arrival. Please ensure that your seat belts are fastened, seat backs and tray tables are in their upright and locked positions, and all carry-on items are properly stowed.

“On behalf of the airline and the entire crew, we’d like to thank you for choosing to fly with us today. We hope you had a pleasant journey and look forward to welcoming you on board again soon.

“Enjoy your stay in Seoul, or safe travels to your next destination.”

A smile stretched the tired muscles of my face, even as butterflies took flight in my stomach.

I took in the view through the small, circular window on my left.

Below, however many thousands of feet, the bright lights of Seoul stretched for miles in every direction, a smattering of individual pinpricks of light, not unlike the bright stars still visible in the pre-dawn sky, but so much closer to touch than their heavenly equivalent.

But there was only one star I was interested in, and he was down there, somewhere.

I leaned my head back against the padded headrest, having just put back in an upright position from the fully-reclined bed it had been for much of the flight.

Not for the first time in the past thirteen hours, I looked around my little cubicle with a bemused smile, taking in the cupboard where I’d laughingly stored my trusty little dinosaur rucksack, the shelf with all the sample-sized cosmetics and a still-wrapped set of pyjamas, and to the pocket-doors that closed me off from the rest of the cabin.

If you’d have asked me this time last year what my life would look like – flying in first class from LA to South Korea would not have been on my bingo card.

For a moment there, at the airport, it had seemed I might not be flying at all.

16 hours earlier, LAX

“Jihoon, I’m here.” I said breathlessly, trying to tamp down the anxious mix of excitement and intimidation at the swirling crowds of people winding around me, hurrying in varying levels of speed, but all hurrying.

I stood as an island with my three bags, trying to focus so I could hear Jihoon, holding my phone tightly to my ear.

“Ky, I’m so sorry,” he said, sounding harried.

“What? Why?” I frowned as a man pushed rudely past me, but I kept my ground.

“I can’t get you onto my flight. Passenger manifest, they can’t change it.” He sounded frustrated, and I felt my heart sink.

“Oh. Well, that sucks,” I admitted, trying hard to keep my tone light. “But it’s okay, I don’t need to fly out tonight, we can re-”

“Kaiya,” he interrupted me. “I’m getting you on a flight. You are coming to Korea. This is happening.”

It was so loud in the terminal that I could have imagined it, but I thought I heard his voice catch, just a little.

“Youngsoo is booking you a ticket now, hold on.” His voice faded, and I heard rustling, like he’d pressed his phone to his chest. I heard muffled voices too indistinct for me to make anything out over the noise from all around me. He spoke again, clearer this time.

“It’s done,” he said, “you need to go to the airline’s booking desk to get your ticket.”

“Oh,” I said, faintly. As easy as that.

“Kaiya? Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s just… are we really doing this?” I tried to make myself heard over the cacophony of sound that streamed around me.

For a moment, the line was so quiet that I pulled the phone away from my ear to peer at the screen, confirming the line hadn’t dropped. I pressed it back to my ear.

“Do you not want to?” There was an evenness to his tone that anyone else might have interpreted as ambivalence, but I knew meant he was trying to be open-minded.

“I do want to.” I said firmly. “It just feels a little nuts, don’t you think?”

He laughed, a little chuckle that inexplicably made my toes curl in my Vans.

“This feels like the most normal thing I’ve done in my whole life.”

“Moving your girlfriend to Korea?” Even though we’d been using those titles – ‘girlfriend’, ‘boyfriend’, for a handful of months now, it still gave me a thrill.

“I would have done it sooner.” His tone, as dark and smoky as a woodfire pulled at something inside me, a tug so physical I actually took a step forward.

I shook my head to clear it. “Oi, stop it,” I commanded.

“Stop what?” he said so innocently it might have been convincing.

“You know what. Stop doing your sexy magic. I have a ticket desk to find.”

Jihoon laughed, “I love it when you call it that.”

“Good, because I’ll only stop calling it that when you stop doing it.” I hefted my other rucksack onto my shoulder – until recently it had been my work rucksack. Can’t call it that anymore, since I got fired. I guess it’s just a rucksack, now.

“Then I’ll never stop doing it.” I could practically feel his smile through the phone.

“Promises, promises.” I muttered, clamping the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I secured both rucksacks to my back. Awkward, pack-mule-esque, but doable.

“I need to go,” he sighed. “The plane will be taking off soon.”

“I understand. Try to get some sleep, but eat something first!” I fussed at him, already casting my eyes around the cavernous terminal, trying to spot where a ticket desk might be hiding.

“Ne,” he said, unintentionally slipping into Korean, before automatically correcting himself with a rushed, “yes.” I smiled to myself, not feeling the need yet to tell him I’d understood him just fine.

Although, on reflection, I wasn’t that far past ‘ne’. And I never did find out what that damn chicken’s message was. Maybe one day.

“Alright, you better go. I can tell that Youngsoo is giving you the side-eye.”

Jihoon laughed. “You know him so well. I’ll tell him you send your regards. Safe travels, jagiya.”

I softened at hearing him call me that. It loosely translated to something like ‘baby’, or ‘sweetheart’, so it’s not like it was anything groundbreaking. But the way he said it made me feel like the most cherished person alive.

“I love you,” I said in a tone that conveyed so much more than those three words ever could.

“I love you, too.”

It took some wandering around, but I eventually managed to locate a ticket desk for the airline Youngsoo had booked with. I approached the tired, but friendly-looking young man, dropping two of my bags to the floor in relief.

“May I help you?”

“Um, yeah, I hope so. A ticket was booked for me to fly to South Korea, but I don’t know what time, or…” I suddenly realised I was standing in the middle of an international airport, with all my worldly possessions stuffed into three bags, with no idea what I was doing.

The ticketing agent ratcheted up a tired, but well-practiced smile before asking, “Do you know which airport?”

“Incheon?” I mean, I assumed so…

The agent tapped away at a keyboard. “And your name?”

That one I had no trouble with. “Thompson, Kaiya.”

“Can I see your passport please, Ms Thompson?”

I fished it out of my pocket and handed over the little, burgundy book. The agent gave it a perfunctory glance before handing it back to me.

“Thank you. You’ve been booked onto the next flight –” I sighed in relief – “it departs at 22:40, so you have plenty of time to check any luggage you may have.” His eyes drifted down to my patchy, bulging bags before meeting my eyes again, his smile taking on a slightly softer, more sympathetic curve.

“This is your ticket, and your boarding pass. The check in desks are right over there.” He handed me the slips of paper and leaned over the desk to point in the direction of a line of people.

I stifled a sigh. I’d waited in airports for longer before; a couple hours was a small price to pay.

“Thank you,” I said to the agent as I leaned down to reclaim my bags before making my way over to the queue for yet another desk.

Eventually though, I’d managed to check in two of my bags, keeping my dino bag with me. Going in through security had been as mind numbing as it ever was, but efficient enough that I’d gotten through to the main concourse before too long.

As with all international airports, LAX duty free was heaving with shops, from luxury brands to traveller convenience stores. It was to one of those I headed to first.

The shelves were filled with over-priced gadgets, from noise-cancelling headphones to portable power banks.

I drifted around for a few minutes, marvelling at the many colours and styles one could get a neck pillow in.

There was even a foldable DJ deck. I worked in music production, and even I hadn’t known that was a thing.

Although, as I cast a critical eye over it, I suspected that was more to do with the fact that it shouldn’t be.

I headed over to the wall of power adapters and carefully inspected the labels. As was usual in airports, each adapter was outrageously over-priced and masquerading as some fabulous luxury brand.

They were helpfully colour-coded with a handy chart next to them, and scanning down the list I noticed Korea shared a type with Europe.

I grabbed a couple of wall plug adapters and headed over to the bored-looking cashier.

I added an international sim to my purchases, handed over the better part of 40 bucks and headed back into the main thoroughfare.

I spent the next couple of hours wandering around aimlessly.

It wasn’t like I had fun-money to go and splurge in the shops.

My intern wages just about stretched to those plugs and a sandwich, which I ate while staring vacantly at a giant boarding screen, sitting on the floor next to a pillar with a plug socket, waiting as my phone charged.