Page 65 of A World Apart
“No,” I said emphatically. How do I fix this?
“Look, Jihoon….” My brain raced, trying to find the words. I settled on just saying what I felt. “I really like you. I liked spending time with you so much.” I dropped my head, shaking it slightly, like I couldn’t believe I was saying these words out loud. “It was the best time I’ve had in so long.” My lips tugged up as I remembered that kiss on the beach.
“But?” he prompted when I didn’t immediately continue.
“But you’re an idol, you live in Korea and I... don’t. Your life is so different to mine.”
“And you’re not okay with that?” I could see in his eyes that I was losing him. His face was as remote as I’d ever seen it, so far removed from the open, smiling Jihoon I’d come to know. My heart sank at the knowledge that I was the reason.
“It’s not that,” I said tentatively. “But I worry it’ll be a problem for you. I worry thatIwill be a problem for you.”
“You?” His tone is disbelieving, but I thought I saw a hint of a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth.
I groaned and closed my eyes and, without looking at him, I said, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep in touch with me just because we had fun together. It’s okay, I’d understand.”
“Kaiya.”
I didn’t open my eyes.
“Ky? Look at me, please.” And damn me, but who could resist that voice? So, I cracked open my eyes as if anticipating a physical blow. But, to my surprise, he was smilingat me.
“So, to be clear,” he said, “you want to keep talking to me, but you’re scared I don’t want to talk to you, because our lives are too different, and I’m just being polite?”
Damn, I should have gotten him to summarise my point earlier.
“I mean… yes?”
“Is that a question?”
“No,” I said, more confidently this time.
“Okay then, let me be clear. I like you, Kaiya. I want to keep talking to you.”
“You do?” I could hardly believe it.
“Yes.” He nodded, his face unexpectedly serious. “We…” He took a breath and looked away for a moment, before looking back at me. “It’s not easy to meet people, especially someone that isn’t a part of this world.” He gestured as if to encompass his surroundings. “And when we do, sometimes that person just wants the Idol part of us. The persona we are on stage. You don’t make me feel like I need to perform for you.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to act causal, even though internally I was anything but. “I’m glad you don’t feel like that with me. That’s what friends are for”
“It’s not just that.” He cut in quickly, like he needed to have this be said. “I have friends, I don’t need more.”
I looked up at him, tilting my head to the side.
“I don’t feel friendly with you,” he admitted, dipping his head down as a blush crept across his cheeks. “I want to be more than your friend.”
The grin that split my face apart would have hurt if my heart hadn’t felt so light. I had to physically resist the urge to roll around my bed and squee, and I would have if I hadn’t been holding the phone.
“Okay?” he asked. “Are we good?”
I nodded vigorously, giddy that I hadn’t tossed this − whatever ‘this’ was − down the drain.
“Yes, we’re good. I’m sorry.”
“I’m just relieved,” he said, “I really thought you were telling me to, uh, 'kick rocks’.”
I laughed at his phrasing, an Americanism I’d only heard recently myself.
“As if!” I waved his concern away, but to my surprise, he pressed on.
