“That settles it. Home.” After all, I deserve a reward. This emotional honesty stuff is hard.
“I love a woman who knows what she wants.” He leads me down the path.
We have a slow and lazy afternoon in bed, filled with silly jokes and irrelevant observations. A few times, I look over and marvel at the strangeness of the entire situation. Min from StarLune coils like a cat next to me, blinking lazily as he talks about why it’s good to add mayo to cup ramen, although honestly that sounds repulsive.
It’s nice. Nicer than nice, and not because it’s Min. Because it’s Jihoon and I’m falling in love. No surprise, he’s easy to love. His words from earlier keep coming up in my mind.You are worth the work. We are worth the effort.He didn’t mention what I can offer, how many hours I bill. It’s only about me, Ari, as a person, and us as people.
Food arrives—not mayo noodles—and we dive in as if we’re starving, which Jihoon, given the amount of energy he expends practicing and how he needs to fit into the world’s tightest pants, might actually be. I look around the room as we eat. “I keep thinking of tours Luxe could do. Like one here in Seoul.”
Jihoon raises his eyebrows. “If it’s not based around StarLune, I’ll be hurt.”
“It’s like you read my mind. First, we’ll have a guided tour of your apartment, including your state-of-the-art cosmetics fridge.”
“The products are better cold,” he protests.
“Make sure you keep some dirty clothes on the floor for authenticity and preferably a note to Kit about how you’re out of milk or something horribly domestic. Sign it with a lipstick kiss.”
He snorts. “That sounds like a fanfic.”
“No doubt.” I pause with my chopsticks halfway to my mouth. “Do you read those?”
He goes red. “No.”
“Liar.”
“We might have looked when we were younger.”
“Jihoon.”
“What?” He fishes around to put a tofu tidbit on my plate. “How could we not?”
“I mean…because it’s kind of narcissistic?”
He burrows into his food. “We wanted to know what our fans were thinking.”
I wave my hand for him to continue.
“They were thinking some extremely imaginative things that I don’t think are physically possible unless one is a gymnast. Sangjun and I couldn’t look at each other for a week.”
I roll my eyes. “Anyways, a K-pop tour would work. Or food, those are popular. They don’t have to be personally guided. Your location could trigger stories on your phone when you arrive in specific areas. Like it’s serendipity.” Another thought comes to me. “We can partner with vendors, and you can pick up food samples as you go.”
“I would do that. They sound like the one you took me on in Graffiti Alley.”
I deflate. “Yeah, there’s a ton of things like this.”
Jihoon grabs my hand and kisses the palm. “That doesn’t matter. There are thousands of lawyers as well but only one Ari.”
“I suppose.”
He gives me a sharp look. “An Ari who is more animated talking about this new opportunity than she ever spoke about law.”
“That’s true.” It feels strange to say it out loud, like I’m betraying something.
Kit comes in before Jihoon can reply, dressed in comfortable sweats. We wave him toward the food, and he washes his hands before sinking into a chair and helping himself. “Hana is gone?” he asks.
“Took the train this morning,” I remind him.
“Ah, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I should text her.” He pulls out his phone and sends a text before starting to check his messages.