Page 107 of When Worlds Collide
I flipped over, raising up on my elbow just in time to see Jihoon bolting right up in bed, the covers falling down to his waist as he dragged a hand through his hair. I reached above the headboard to click on the soft glow of the reading light, illuminating the room, but not enough to dispel the shadows in his eyes as he looked at me.
He growled a deep sound of frustration, an exhalation too coarse to be any one word, and I could only look on in hopeless concern as he covered his face with one hand.
From the phone, I could hear the distant, too-indistinct hum of someone talking. Jihoon grunted an acknowledgment of something, before pulling the phone away from his ear and tossing it on bedside table.
What followed was a fast and guttural string of Korean before he fell silent. I watched in concern, hands trembling with the suppressed need to reach for him.
Eventually, he dropped the hands covering his face, rolling his head on his shoulder to look over at me. The look on his face…
“Joon?”
“The conference room.”
Three words were all it took. Suddenly, with a cold clarity like ice slipping into my stomach, I knew exactly what had occurred.
“The footage?”
He nodded. I reached for him, pulling his hands towards me, holding them tightly in my lap even as I felt the blood drain from my face. “When?”
“Just after midnight.”
“Saturday morning,” I murmured. “LA time.” I clarified.
Today was Sunday. We’d had plans to stay in bed a little longer, before Jihoon’s mixed martial arts class. Today was supposed to be a slow start for us.
“I’m so sorry, Kaiya,” Jihoon gasped, as if he’d been holding his breath. My eyes snapped back to his, seeing the way they darted over me like he was checking for injuries.
“Hey,” I scooted over, bringing him close to me, “it’s okay. It’s okay, Joon. It’s going to be fine. This was always a possibility. ENT will handle it.” I was comforting him, all the while hoping he couldn’t see the way I was holding back tears.
We’d always known there was a possibility the conference room footage could be leak. But knowing it might happen didn’t soften the blow now that it had. The idea of global exposure still hit me like a gut punch.
We weren’t ready for that.
I wasn’t ready for that.
I tried to breathe in through my nose – deep, calming breaths, all the while reminding myself that Becka had assured me I was not identifiable.
“You’re not recognisable.”
“I think you’re good. You were never full-frontal to the camera.”
Oh god. There were people out there with unbelievable digital skills, the kind of talent that reconstructed faces from the reflections in car windows, what if-
“We have to go in,” he stuttered, breaking through my spiral. “Now.”
“Now? It’s 4:00 am.” Shocked into action, I was secretly glad of the urgency of movement because it gave me something else to focus on.
“Now.” He pressed a firm, but fast kiss to my hands before releasing me, and rolling off the bed, striding for the wardrobe.I watched dumbfounded as he pulled off his pyjama pants and quickly dressed.
Yeah. Okay.
I followed at a similar pace, stripping as I went. Jihoon glanced over, but no time today for coy glances or flirty touches. I grabbed the closest things to me – jeans, t-shirt, hoodie. Looking over at Jihoon, a giggle with a slight edge of hysteria to it bubbled out of me, when I saw we were a matching pair. He cocked his head at me.
“We match,” I gasped, indicating between our bodies. He looked down, then back over at me. Black jeans, dark grey hoodies.
“We are a team,” he said firmly, but with a wry twist to his lips. “Hey,” he said softly, taking a step towards me, reaching for my hands. “I’ve got you.”
I hadn’t realised a tear had slipped down my cheek, until he reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. My chin trembled under his palm. “I’ve got you.”
