Page 47

Or, well, I saw him – I couldn’t not see him everywhere I went – but it was as if I couldn’t bear to look at him, because every time I did, my gut would twist. So I would see him and then force myself to look away, to scramble for the comfortable layer of professional separation I had with every other artist I’d worked with.

Except he wasn’t like every artist I’d ever worked with.

I was acutely aware that I knew what his lips felt like against mine. I couldn’t not remember the way his fingers trailed up my spine in the mornings. I knew what his favourite ice cream was, that he had a favourite pair of chopsticks, how he hated the feel of hair gel, how his face looked watching fireworks, and that he blamed himself bitterly for the way the press had treated his grandma when his aunt and uncle had died. There was no separation because I knew things about him that wouldn’t have changed in just a few years.

So I tried not to see him. Tried not to notice when his eyes sought mine. Tried to ignore it because it felt too much like holding my hand over a candle flame and wondering how close I could get before it burned.

Joon

You didn’t come tonight. I wish you didn’t feel like you need to hide because of me.

[Sent 23:12]

I was staring at the message when Sihyeon came stumbling into the room. I watched, bemused as she haphazardly kicked off her shoes before moving over to her bed and collapsing onto it.

“Good night?” I asked lightly, closing my laptop so the blank screen wasn’t glaring at me anymore.

“So good,” Sihyeon sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “They had these dancers, and the food – oh my God, Kaiya, you should have come.”

“I told you,” I said tightly, for what felt like the tenth time, “I wanted to finish some work.”

Sihyeon scoffed as she rolled over to look at me bleary-eyed. “Surely the party was more important?”

“Well, too late now.” I slid off my bed and moved over to the bathroom, flicking on the light with more force than necessary as I stared at myself in the mirror, noting the tight lines around my eyes and attempting to relax my face into something that at least suggested someone who had enjoyed a productive night.

Sihyeon was rustling around on her bed when I exited the bathroom, a blissed-out look on her face. It unreasonably irritated me. She could attend parties like that and just enjoy them. I felt like I attended them with a grenade in my pocket.

I ground my teeth together. I needed air.

“Don’t sleep in your clothes,” I bit out before sliding on my shoes and opening the door to our room.

I headed downstairs to the bar. It was empty but for a few people quietly chatting. I ordered a coffee and sat down in one of the lushly padded booths that overlooked the gardens. I tried to clear my mind, but it was like trying to muffle a car alarm with cotton wool.

I put my coffee mug down on the table with a thud and slumped back in my seat, but my head was too loud. I needed someone to soundboard with. I pulled out my phone and pressed dial, holding it to my ear.

“Babes,” Becka greeted me as she picked up.

“Are you busy?”

Becka scoffed. “Always. What’s up?”

I sighed. “We had a fight.”

Becka was silent for a moment. “About?”

“It was bullshit, honestly. I was out in the city, and he got it into his head that I wasn’t safe, and he demanded I come back to the hotel–”

“Demanded?” she scoffed, and my lips quirked.

“Yup. And then when I got back to the hotel – in my own damn time, just to be clear – he dragged me into a room and basically scolded me–”

“Scolded?” Becka interrupted.

“Yes, but here’s the thing. When I pointed out to him what he was doing, he looked gutted.” I picked at my thumbnail, worrying at a ragged edge I couldn’t leave alone.

“Hell.” I could practically hear Becka thinking. She knew how overbearing Jihoon could be. How it was one of the reasons I hadn’t just gotten back together with him last year. “Do you think he can change, like he said?”

I leaned my head back against the booth. “I believe he’s trying,” I said after a pause, remembering the look on his face.