Page 15 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)

M eeting back up with Jihoon, I’d apologised profusely. On my way through the shopping centre, my anxiety crept higher with every step until I’d spotted him, casually leaning against a pillar near to Misun’s store. No one was paying him the slightest bit of attention.

He gallantly waved my apologies away, sweeping his hand through the air like he was erasing the words.

“It’s not a big deal,” he insisted. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to leave quickly.”

“I remember,” I said, cocking my eyebrow at him.

He reached out and took my K-Pop Plaza bag from me and I frowned as he dug through it, until he plucked the photo cards out. Holding the shiny card of himself up, he said, “You should put this next to your bed, so you can see this face every night before you sleep.”

I didn’t need to pull the black, surgical mask down to see the way his lips were quirked in a smug, self-pleased way. I could feel it radiating through the thin material.

“Why would I need to do that, when I could just roll over and look at the real thing?” I pretended to frown. “Won’t you be there?”

Despite having both shopping bags hanging from one of his arms, he twisted his fingers in my jacket and pulled me towards him until I could feel the heat of his body, even through all the layers that separated us.

“You want me in your bed, jagiya?” he murmured so close I could count the individual lashes that framed his eyes.

Sexy magic.

“Yes,” I said on the back of a sigh, more of a swoon really, if I were honest. This dangerous man…

His eyes crinkled above the mask and it took significant effort on my part to not reach up, pull it down, and…

“Are you hungry?”

“Huh?” I asked, dazed by the sudden change in subject.

Jihoon chuckled and tapped his finger against my nose. “Focus, Kaiya. Do you want to eat something?”

With an inhale, I gave my head a little shake as I considered the question. Breakfast suddenly felt like a long time ago.

“I could eat,” I said with a nod.

“Let’s go then. I know something I think you’ll like.”

I bet he did, bloody tease.

We walked slowly down the busy street outside the Myeondong Theatre, careful to stay out of the way of other people bustling past. When he’d told me he knew the perfect snack for this cold, winter’s day, he had not been wrong.

We’d walked the short distance from the Lotte Plaza mall to a street so packed with food vendors and people, I’d almost felt claustrophobic at the thought of squeezing through them all, but then as we’d made our way through, my thoughts had strayed to, and stuck firmly on, the thought of eating everything in sight. I didn’t even know what half of it was.

There were stalls selling pastries shaped like fish and cups of fried rice with every kind of topping you could think of.

There were noodle vendors with queues of orderly people.

There was one stall labelled, ‘Potato Guy’, who seemed – as the name suggested – to specialise in dozens of different potato snacks, spirals on sticks, stuffed flatbreads, fries, chipsticks.

I craned my neck around as we’d passed it, trying to see more of his wares.

But we’d gone past them all until Jihoon seemed to find the one thing he’d been looking for.

I looked at the Hangul characters, my lips moving silently as I sounded the letters out. I laughed when I read ‘Hotteok’.

“You really came all this way, just for me?”

“I also really wanted to try hotteok.”

“Am I not better than a pancake?”

Jihoon looked back over at me, and winked.

I stayed to the side while he ordered, holding up two fingers. The woman had barely looked at him as she nodded and grabbed two paper bags, deftly sliding in two round, golden brown disks and holding them out to him. Jihoon handed over the cash and moved back to where I stood, observing.

“These are life changing. I hope you’re prepared.” His eyes twinkled as he held out one of the little parcels to me.

The paper bag was warm in my fingers, and even though we were surrounded by people on all sides, the warm, nutty smell of cinnamon and sugar enveloped me, a comforting sense of nostalgia for something I’d never eaten before.

I took a cautious bite. The crispy outside crackled slightly as I bit down, before giving way to soft, chewy dough.

That alone I could have cheerfully eaten all day, but when I got to the gooey centre, my eyes closed in delight.

Molten sweetness filled my mouth in a rush of sugary-sweet, cinnamon-laced goodness.

I moaned around a mouthful, swiping a finger across my lips without shame.

“You like it?” Jihoon grinned at me, but with my mouth stuffed, all I could do was nod vigorously.

I didn’t have the words to describe the confectionery joy I was experiencing at the moment, so I just cracked open one eye to look at him, groaned again and nodded my head in a slow, appreciative way. His shoulders shook, and he held a hand over his mouth to hide his own mouthful.

The moment reminded me of that day we’d spent wandering around a street market in West Hollywood. Normally, remembering that cinnamon bun would have my mouth watering, but this hotteok might actually be better.

Once I’d finished my bite and swallowed, I took a breath and exhaled a warm puff of cinnamon scented air that misted in front of me. The cold December day made us all dragons.

We’d started walking down the street again, heading back in the direction of the parking lot and Jihoon’s driver. It had started to drizzle and neither of us wanted to stay outside any longer.

“If you’d given me one of these earlier, you could have convinced me to move to Korea months ago.”

“Is that all it would have taken?” He looked at me sideways under the brim of his hat. “You’re going to love my halmeoni then. She makes the best sweet treats.”

The mention of a grandmother stopped me in my tracks for a moment before my brain caught up and I took a few swift steps to reach his side. Aside from his aunt and uncle, he’s never mentioned extended family before. I’d assumed…

Jihoon didn’t have a good relationship with his parents.

They hadn’t supported his decision to apply to any of the entertainment companies.

In fact, they’d been so vehemently opposed that they’d shipped him off to live with his aunt and uncle in New York when he’d been eleven.

They'd used the time he’d been away from Korea to travel abroad for business.

When he had gone against their wishes to apply – and been accepted – to ENT, they hadn’t made their disapproval a secret.

Even now, with as successful as he was, they would still prefer he had followed in their footsteps. He went home for the bigger holidays, but I’d always gotten the impression it was tense between them.

With all the people around us, the sound of many chattering voices and clashing songs thumping out of speakers from different stalls in a competing cacophony of noise, this was not the time to ask him. I made a mental note to put a pin in the subject.