Page 119 of When Worlds Collide
I forced my body to remain motionless, hardly daring to breath beyond a shallow inhalation. It seemed as though the whole auditorium had taken a collective breath. I wondered how Jihoon could stand to be the focus of such intense scrutiny. Every single eye in the room was laser-focused on him.
My heart thumped painfully as I watched his quiet composure. I felt a sudden desperate need for him to look over at me, at the same time I felt a freezing pulse of fear that he might.
He sighed, barely perceptibly, and picked up his microphone.
“I know there’s been a lot of speculation lately, and ENT has already released a statement confirming the footage is real. Beyond that… I’m not sure what else I can say.”
Hearing Joon’s words come out of Hana’s mouth was jarring. I watched his mouth move, I heard the words come out, but I couldn’t understand them, until Hana translated them seconds later.
“The truth is, I barely have time to eat or sleep. Between schedules, training, and everything else, a relationship just… doesn’t fit into that. It’s not realistic."
"I understand why people are curious, and I’m grateful that so many fans care. But if there was someone else involved, even hypothetically, I think it would be incredibly unfair to pull them into this.”
Jihoon took a breath, and it looked like the MC was about to jump in, but then Jihoon spoke again.
“My focus is – and has to be – entirely on work right now.”
Silence followed, but it was short lived. Clearly the MC had been selected for a reason, and this time he did jump in, and though Hana did not translate, it was clear he was shuffling the conversation back on track.
My focus though was entirely on the man I loved, sitting on stage, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else.
I barely heard anything that Hana went on to translate. All I could hear was was what Jihoon had said.
I was standing at the kitchen sink, washing the plates left from this morning, when Jihoon came through the front door.
He called my name.
“In here,” I called back.
A moment later, strong, warm arms wrapped around my waist, filling me with a sense of peace so complete it almost erased the discomfort I’d felt for hours. Almost.
Jihoon peppered light kisses up the curve of my neck, tracing my skin from collarbone to jaw. I giggled at the slight tickle.
“Hmm, I love that sound,” he murmured against my ear.
“You’re in a good mood,” I commented lightly, the washing-up forgotten, bubbles fizzing in the sink.
“I have my hands on my woman – why would I not be?”
He bit down gently on my earlobe before spinning me around in his arms. I squealed and held my hands away from him.
“Joon, I’m all wet!”
He grinned, but it was more mischief than amusement. “Not yet.”
He pulled my hips hard against his, but I leaned back, still trying to keep my sudsy hands away from him.
“Joon, come on.”
I pulled away and after a moments hesitation, he let me go.
“Gwenchana?” he asked with a half-smile. He’d started slipping small bits of Korean into our conversations. He’d said it was to help me practice, but I suspected it was more to do with how much he enjoyed talking to me in his language.
“Ne, gwenchana,” I replied automatically.
But was I okay? I’d asked myself that all evening. I felt… weird. Off-center, somehow.
I couldn’t stop replaying his response at the press conference, and while I knew it had been the right thing to say, I couldn’t seem to get over how it had made me feel.
