Page 62 of A World Apart
But he didn’t know, because this time the phone really had frozen, which I only figured out because Jihoon took so long to reply that I squinted at the screen long enough to see the frozen pixels. At least I got to look at his beautiful face for a moment longer. Until the whole app shut down.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” I muttered, before angrily mashing the combination of buttons to shut my phone down for a restart.
Except, I had fallen asleep before I remembered to power it back on.
Chapter 21
Rolling over in bed, I groaned as my brains sloshed around inside my skull, and debated how urgently I needed to go pee, versus the need to stay in bed and not move for a good, long while.
But the urge to go won out, and so I reluctantly rolled myself out of bed and took the two steps it took to get to my door.
“Morning, champ!” Becka called from the kitchen, waving a spatula at me. I grunted a response and headed on my way, while Becka laughed merrily. It wasn’t fair, she drank more than me, she should be heaving, but no, she’s probably making pancakes. At the thought of food, my stomach perked up with interest but I had to shelve that in favour of more pressing needs.
On my way back from the bathroom, I paused on the threshold of the living area and leaned against the wall to watch as Becka artfully flipped fluffy pancakes at the oven top.
“You wouldn’t happen to be making enough for two, would you?” I croaked.
“It just so happens that I am,” she replied, cheerfully. Truly, she was the saddest drunk you’d ever met, and the chirpiest hungover person known to man. The duality of this woman was enough to give a girl whiplash.
Becka shook the now-cooked mini pancakes onto a warming plate before pouring more batter into the pan, each a perfect circle.
“So, about last night,” she began, glancing at me once and then quickly looking away.
I mentally ran through the night in my head in a series of snap-shots, going round in my head like film on a projector, trying to find the cause for her apparent embarrassment.
“I know I shouldn’t have sent that message, and I’m sorry. I just got so mad at the thought he was ghosting you,” and as if to emphasise the point, she slammed her mix jug on the counter harder than necessary.
And just like that, the memory came flooding back in; us here in the kitchen, me rummaging for crackers like a crazed seagull, and Becka… Becka sending Jihoon a message accusing him of ghosting me.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned, grabbing my forehead.
“You didn’t remember?” she said, incredulously. “I thought I heard you talking to him-”
“Oh fuck!” I darted back to my bedroom, flinging myself on my bed to grab my phone off the nightstand. I tried to wake it, but it was fully powered off.
“Oh, fuck,” I drew out the word in a groan as I grabbed my power cable and plugged it in before holding down the power button and watching anxiously as it powered on.
It took a hot minute to load up my home screen and connect to the Wi-Fi, despite me silently promising it a violent end.
Eventually though, my apps loaded and my screen flashed with multiple, time-stamped notifications.
“Oh fuck,” I murmured. I had four missed calls and two messages from Jihoon, all around 2:00am. I opened the messages, bracing for the worst, but instead, they just made me feel guilty.
Joon
What did you mean? You said no.
[sent 02:14]
Joon
Please call me. I don’t mind what time. I just want to know you’re not mad at me.
[sent 02:20]
I groaned and pushed my head into the pillows, but then almost immediately looked back up and checked the time on my phone. It was after 3:00am for him now, I couldn’t be the asshole that messes him around and then wakes him up at 3 in the morning.
“Everything ok?” Becka stood at the threshold to my room, holding a steaming cup of coffee that I could smell from over here.
