I side-eye him. “No one says stuff like that.”
“It’s true.” He runs his thumbs along my hands, which he hasn’t released, causing my heart rate to hitch.
He’s going to kiss me. I know he’s going to kiss me. I can see his eyes flutter from my hands to my lips and then, oh my, his tongue touches his lower lip.
The stress of the evening evaporates. I want this, so bad. I lean in enough to encourage but not too far in case he pulls back and I need to pretend this didn’t happen, like fake fixing my hair after I wave at someone waving at the person behind me.
He comes closer and my heart thumps.
I wait, but instead of a kiss, he drags his hand up my arm to my shoulder and trails his finger along the bare skin above my collar. His eyes drop to trace the path down my throat as his hand moves to my hair and drifts slowly across my back. He’s acting like he has all the time in the world, and I wonder what he would do if I moved to claim him first. Instead I wait, enduring this sweetest of tortures to see what he does.
It seems like forever. Then his lips press against mine.
Fifteen
This must be my reward for getting through the evening. After that first soft brush of his lips, Jihoon pulls back and rubs his thumb over my cheek.
“Ari?”
“Get back here.” Now that I know we’re on the same page, I’m more confident about going for what I want, which is his hands on me and mine on him. I also know I’ve wanted it since I watched him cook me dinner that first time.
Jihoon laughs and meets me halfway. We make out like teenagers in my parents’ driveway, Jihoon’s hands running down my loose hair as he pulls me closer, both of us trying to avoid getting lethally gored by the gearshift.
Except this is nothing like being a teenager, because Jihoon knows exactly how to touch me until all I can think about is him. I dimly recall my decision to not get in too deep, but that was based on incomplete information—namely how good a kisser he is and how perfect his touch feels. My new knowledge has forced an extreme and satisfying course correction.
I lean back in and take my time as his mouth lingers on mine. His hand comes down to rest against my hip and he tries to pull me closer in a possessive move that’s stymied by the console. He leaves a gentlekiss on my lower lip, another on the corner of my mouth, then sits back, smiles, and touches my face. “I didn’t notice much about dinner because kissing you was all I could think about.”
I start the car with shaking hands, eager to get going before I drag him into the back seat. “That would definitely have changed the direction of the conversation over dessert.”
Because this is Jihoon, Lord of Feelings, he wants to talk as I drive, where I would like to silently relive the moment. However, I also want to know what this means and what it means to him. It has the bonus of keeping me from thinking about the ropes around my chest tightened by Phoebe and Dad.
“I’ve thought about kissing you since the day you pulled a knife on me,” he says thoughtfully. “After I calmed down and realized I wasn’t going to die.”
For that long? I glance over to find him looking at me with that small smile that seems so private, a look for the two of us. He continues, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have because I’m leaving soon.”
I give the road ahead of me a neutral nod. This is true enough, although I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“You’ve become all I can think about. Your lips. Your hair.” Here, he reaches over and wraps a lock around his finger before releasing it. “How much I like to be with you and talk with you.”
“Okay,” I say. These are nice things to hear, but it’s difficult for me to return them or even a close proxy. Instead of words, I reach over and touch his hand. He brings mine to his lips and kisses my palm, chin slightly stubbly and giving me shivers. I take my hand back so I can focus on the road.
“I don’t know what can happen, Ari.” He doesn’t sound defeated or upset. Merely stating a fact.
I mull this over. “Are you usually impulsive?”
As I check my rearview mirror to change lanes, he curls back into the car seat. “I don’t know.”
“You are or you aren’t,” I say. “It’s like being a talker or listener. You came to Canada on a whim, if that helps you decide.”
“Perhaps it’s the wrong question. I prefer this rather than impulsive or not.” He speaks in Korean before translating. “It means to live with your heart.”
Live with your heart. “Follow your passion, you mean?”
Jihoon twists in his seat to look at me. “Yes, but more.” He thinks. “Everything involves your head and your heart. What youshoulddo and what youwantto do. Sometimes they are aligned. Often they are not.”
“When there’s no conflict, there’s no decision to make.”
“Yes. To live with your heart means that when there are choices to be made, you make the one that thrills your heart, not placates your mind. Impulsivity doesn’t come into it because either it’s the right decision or not. How quickly you make it is irrelevant.”