Page 31 of A World Apart
“Babes, you don’t have to-”
“I want to,” I interrupted, “I don’t give a fuck about TK, but I would quite like to see the idol again,” I said, a shy smile creeping its way across my face.
“I thought it was ‘Jihoon,’” Becka crooned. I gently kicked her under the table and she laughed at me, the air between us light and easy again.
Becka’s phone chimed, the screen lighting up with a message. She leant over to read it.
“Speak of the devil,” she said, still looking down, “food’s been delivered. It’s downstairs now.”
“That’s my cue.” I stood up and started to pack away my things.
“Are you going to be okay?” Becka asked, wiping her hands on a napkin.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Fuck him, he doesn’t get to ruin this for me.”
“Your internship, or your time with the idol?” Becka asked. She said it in a casual tone, but by the intense way she held my eyes, it was quite clear she was asking a real question.
I don’t even stop to think. “Both,” I said, firmly, slinging my rucksack over my shoulder and pushing my chair in. “See you later?”
“As always,” she nodded, and I walked out of the lounge with my head held higher than it was when I walked in earlier.
I was absolutely clear on one thing: I wouldn’t let that fucker ruin my time here in LA, this job, or my time with Jihoon. The fact was, he was a big money player forthe studio, and I was… an intern. He held all the power, and if it came down to a he-said-she-said, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d come out worse.
So, I had two options: ignore it and try to stay out of his way, or stick my neck out and see where that got me. It made me so mad that I was even in the position where I had to weigh those choices. Why was this being mademyproblem? All I’d ever wanted was to work in the music industry, to learn from people like him, and he had to go and ruin it by being a fucking creep.
At the lockers, I dropped off my rucksack, grabbed my earbuds, and slid them into my pocket before locking up. I took the stairs down to reception, using the time to try and calm down. Getting mad wasn’t helping anything. As I swung open the door from the stairwell, I blew out a breath and tried to shake it off.
Donna was standing behind the desk again, talking quickly into her headset in a tone that was both polite and annoyed at the same time. She had her hands on her hips as she turned to look at me, not pausing her conversation.
I waved and pointed at the food bags, miming taking them upstairs. Donna rolled her eyes and pointed one manicured finger at the hospitality tray behind the desk.
Dutifully, I wheeled it over and decanted all the food containers onto the trolley in a more aesthetically pleasing display, grabbing a couple of chilled water bottles out of the mini fridge behind the desk and filling up the water jug.
Donna watched my every move with an impressive amount of diligence, considering she never once halted her conversation and only once she had given a begrudging nod and turned away, did I wheel the trolley towards the elevator. From Donna, that nod might as well have been a standing ovation and a clap on the back.
As the doors closed behind me and I’d reached for the button, I remembered this morning in this same elevator. I resolved to take the stairs from now on.
The ascent up to the second floor was really too short for me to work myself up into any big feelings and this was probably a blessing, as I didn’t have the luxury of spiralling about either Jihoon, or Trevor Kyle and seeing them.
Once the doors opened on the second floor, I pushed the trolley down the corridor to Studio 3, that by-now familiar red light beckoning me forward.
This time, I was far less anxious as I stopped outside the door and looked in through the porthole window, although I’d be lying to myself if I tried to deny the very real existence of the fluttering in my belly. It was a tentative, hopeful sort of fluttering though, as if the butterflies weren’t sure if they were supposed to be there, or not.
But that’s when I saw Jihoon and the butterflies decided that yes, they were most certainly in the right place. My breath hitched as he looked up and met my eyes through the glass. He smiled and even from here I could see the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the sides. That he was smiling like that for me... It made me want to cry and I didn’t know why.
I knocked lightly on the door to announce myself, but knowing that Jihoon had seen me, I pushed down the handle and turning my back to the door, pushed it open, backing into the room. Before I’d hardly crossed the threshold, Jihoon was there, holding the door open and standing so close to me that I could smell that clean, laundry scent of his. Unthinking, my head angled to the side and lifted slightly until I was almost touching his chest with my nose. I looked up, a little bit startled and embarrassed. Jihoon met my gaze, his eyes warm, a playful light in them. I felt the way my whole face beamed back at him, I didn’t even try or want to tone it down.
When Youngsoo cleared his throat, I remembered we were not alone, and I hurried to pull the trolley all the way into the room and wheel it over to the long desk.
Just like last time, Jihoon helped me to offload all the food containers. We kept sneaking peeks at each other, trying not to smile, like two little kids hiding a secret.
Just as we finished, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen, moving away to the sound booth before answering with a cheerful“yeoboseyo?”
I’d inadvertently tracked his movements with my body and as I spun around, I knocked over one of the sealed water bottles and it rolled under the desk.
Apologising to Youngsoo, who didn’t seem to be paying me the slightest attention, I dropped to my knees and crawled slightly under the desk to reach for it.
“Well, hello, what do we have here?” I jumped, my head hitting the underside of the table at the sudden and unwelcome voice behind me. I craned my neck around to see Trevor Kyle standing behind me, leaning slightly to the side and making absolutely no effort whatsoever to disguise the fact that he was staring at my backside. I turned back around and scooted quickly to get out from under the table, feeling the way the hair on my arms raised as I shuddered, revulsion tasting sour on my tongue.
