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“Okay then,” I muttered and took a step back. Becka didn’t look away from Woojin.

I tilted my head to the side, considering. Woojin was a bit standoffish, but he was a good person, that much I knew.

Besides, if anyone was capable of handling herself, it was Rebecca Hanson. I discreetly moved away.

A hand strayed to the small of my back, sending a gentle cascade of shivers up my spine as Jihoon moved to my side, leaning in to be heard.

“Who’s in more danger?”

I tilted my head up to look at him, bringing our faces so close that I could see the faint scar through his eyebrow. My breath stuttered and I quickly looked away.

“Normally, I would have said him. But now I’m not so sure…”

I felt his fingertips on my skin. Five distinct, little flares of heat that I should have moved away from, not leaned into.

He chuckled, a quiet, rumbly sound. “Normally, I would have said her, but tonight…”

I huffed a laugh.

Someone called Jihoon’s name, and he sighed.

“Duty calls.” I exhaled shakily, caught somewhere between disappointment and relief.

He held my eyes for a moment longer before turning and walking away to whoever had called.

I moved over to the edge of the roof and leaned on the railings, looking out over the city. I smiled. The small park across the street looked unchanged.

A chill wind rustled the leaves of the nearby rosemary bushes, and goosebumps trailed across my bare arms. Warmth draped over my shoulders as a jacket was tucked around me, and I looked up to see Jihoon. He held my gaze, his face soft, and I wished I could see his eyes more clearly. Like they might tell me what this was, but even as the thought crossed my mind, he was walking away, casually slipping his hands into his pockets, as if this wasn’t a big deal.

The silk lining carried the warmth of his body. I pulled the jacket tighter around myself, discreetly lowering my nose to breathe in. It still smelt like him.

Chapter 21

“What did you actually talk about?” I blew my hair off my sweaty face, dumping the box I’d just taped shut onto the counter.

Becka, breathing heavily, leaned against the wall and wiped a hand across her face, smearing a line of dust on her cheek.

“Would you believe it if I told you, ‘not much’?”

I laughed. “Actually, kinda.”

In all the time I had known Woojin, I had only ever heard him be remotely talkative when he was rapping lyrics at a million miles per hour. Beyond that, I’d seen chattier postboxes.

“It was weird,” she admitted. “I felt like he kept looking at me like he expected me to talk his ear off, but suddenly everything I wanted to say just – poof.” She gestured with her hands, and I laughed.

“Yeah. He’s kind of intense like that.”

“No, it wasn’t that.” Becka frowned, and I paused to watch her. “It was more like I didn’t want to just fill the space with words, y’know? Not just because of the language thing – which, by the way, did you know he’s fluent? Anyway, it was more like… like I wanted to say shit that was worth saying.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying it right. I guess I was just intimidated by his awesomeness.” She sighed, and I nodded slowly.

“I get that. He doesn’t even need to try, and his aura is over nine thousand.”

Becka snorted and turned to finish wrapping an ornament in newspaper. “Nerd,” she accused.

“Hoarder,” I said cheerfully, reaching for yet another hair styling tool. “So, what? You spent the entire time just sitting in awe?” I pressed casually, shoving random stuff in random boxes.

Becka tutted and pushed my hands out of the way retrieving the curling wand I’d put in with her photo albums, only to put it in another box.

“Not exactly,” she hedged in a tone that turned me from mildly interested into laser-focused.