Page 39 of A World Apart
“Too late?” He repeated.
“Oh, no!” I said, catching on to what he thought I must have meant. I waved my hands in emphasis, “no, I don’t have a boyfriend.” I tried to laugh, but I was too breathless from my heart jumping into my throat to pull it off.
“Oh!” He smiled and sounded relieved.
“Baek Jihoon!” The sudden shout made us jump apart as if there was a fire between us. I looked over the railings to see Youngsoo and Eun, his bodyguard, standing at the bottom of the stairwell. Youngsoo looked cross and didn’t seem tocare about hiding it, while Eun just stood there, quietly assessing, face indecipherable.
“Whoops,” Jihoon said, “they were waiting for me downstairs. I better go.” He smiled a crooked smile. “Will I see you tonight?” he asked hopefully.
I nodded. “Yes.” And then he surprised me again by raising his hand, the metal bands on his wrist clanking gently against his watch as he tucked the strand of hair back behind my ear.
“See you later.” He smiled at me before he practically ran down the stairs. I waited until I heard the door slam shut, taking the sound of footsteps and voices with it, before I leaned against the wall, puffing out a breath as I tried to calm my hammering heart.
Chapter 16
“What do you wear to a ‘casual’ wrap-up party for a recording celebrity?!” I flung the only dressy dress I’d brought with me to LA across the room, narrowly missing knocking over the lamp Becka and I had bought from IKEA when I moved in.
“What was wrong with that one?” Becka asked, casually leaning against the door frame watching me.
“Too much.”
Becka rolled her eyes at me as she took a sip of her hot, compost-tasting drink and then said, “I really feel like the more of a big deal you make this, the more stressed you’re gonna get, babes.”
“And I really feel you should get in the bin, but here we are!” I threw a pair of trousers across the room to join the dress and groaned in frustration.
“Do you have any clothes left?” Becka calmly asked.
“No!” I slumped to the floor and looked around at the piles of discarded clothes. Why had I never foreseen the possibility of being asked to a dinner being thrown for a famous person? “Because I’m an intern!” I cried, answering the other half of my own question out loud.
Becka pushed herself off the door frame and took one step into my tiny bedroom. “Okay, crazy lady, up you get,” she said, extending a hand to me to help pull me off the floor. “Let’s go have a look in my closet, I’m sure I’ve got something you can wear.”
I allowed myself to be led to Becka’s marginally bigger bedroom to where she had a built-in wardrobe.
“Sit.” She pointed at the bed, and still holding onto her mug, she began to rifle through her clothes, muttering to herself as she did, “No, too small, too slutty, not slutty enough…” and on it went until we had a small pile of contenders piled up on the bed next to where I was sitting.
Suddenly, Becka pulled a hanger out and cried, “Bingo, baby!”
I frowned down at the pool of fabric. “Are you sure?”
“Fuck yes,” she exclaimed in triumph, “this is the one!”
“I don’t know, it doesn’t scream ‘casual’ to me.”
“Babes, trust me. I spoke to Celine about this dinner and it is not casual, she’s booked it at Emporia. It’s chill, but not casual.”
I stood up and took the hanger from her. “Do you think my black stilettos will go with this?”
“Definitely.” Becka nodded enthusiastically.
“Okay then,” I said with a sigh, “I bow to your superior knowledge.”
One hour later
“Becka, come on!” I yelled at her closed bedroom door from where I was standing in the kitchenette, popping rolled up chunks of bread into my mouth. Mama didn’t raise an idiot; always line your stomach before going out and drinking.
My heels clinked softly as I walked across the small apartment to Becka’s bedroom door and knocked. “Are you coming, or not?” I called.
“Jesus Christ, give me a minute!” She called back. I rolled my eyes and walked back over to the full-length mirror by the door to once again make sure I hadn’t somehow smeared my eyeliner, or some other such fashion disaster.
