MIA
I have never felt this nervous in my entire life.
Was he being serious?
"Ha..." I chuckled anxiously, attempting to withdraw my hand. "Not funny,"
But he held on, seizing my hand firmly.
His tone was grave, sending shivers down my spine. "I'm not joking," he said, his grip tightening. "Remember how we used to hold hands when we were younger?"
"Yeah," I managed to swallow the lump in my throat. "So?"
"Let's take a trip down memory lane," he suggested.
After his words, silence enveloped us. I was at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond. He didn't speak either; instead, he gently swung our intertwined hands, silently urging me on. His behavior had been peculiar since our time at the pool, or perhaps it had always been odd, and I had chosen to overlook it.
My gaze darted towards the exit, where a few people were leaving, intensifying my anxiety.
Without hesitation, I clasped his hand tightly. "Let's go for a walk then," I suggested, surprising both him and myself with my sudden change of heart.
He squeezed my hand in response. "Or better yet, let's run," he proposed.
"Huh?"
"Come on," he urged, pulling me closer. My legs moved reluctantly, but without thinking, I found myself running alongside him. He laughed joyfully as we ran, our destination unknown and irrelevant at that moment. He seemed liberated.
And then it dawned on me. Was something troubling Jackson that I hadn't noticed?
As we ran, the wind tousled Jackson's hair, making it dance around his face. His brown eyes sparkled with excitement as he glanced over at me, a smile playing on his lips, revealing those irresistible dimples that always drove me wild. Every time I saw that smile, I couldn't help but wish I had the courage to grab him and kiss him right then and there.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks – I'd let him slip away once before, and I felt like the biggest fool for it. If he ever thought about leaving again, could I bear it? The mere thought made my heart ache with regret and fear.
Finally, we came to a halt, our chests heaving with each labored breath. Seizing the chance, I gently slipped my hand away from his, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap right out of my chest at any moment.
Taking a quick survey of our surroundings, I realized we were on some random sidewalk. "Don't worry, I can call an Uber if you want to head back now," Jackson offered, his voice breaking through the haze of my thoughts.
He was still trying to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with each intake and release of air. My gaze lingered on a droplet of sweat trickling down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, and I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks.
"Did you hear me?" Jackson's voice jolted me out of my trance, and I flinched guiltily, feeling like a caught cat.
Which, in a way, I was.
"Um... no need," I mumbled, but my feeble response did little to dispel the sadness in his eyes. "I mean it, let's grab some water. You look like you could use it," I teased, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Can't argue with that," he chuckled.
Scanning the street, we spotted a shop, and Jackson swiftly purchased a bottle of water.
"Looks like we'll have to share," he remarked, a hint of amusement coloring his tone as he handed me the bottle.
I took a few swigs before passing it back to him, but as he took a sip, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Just moments ago, my lips had touched that same bottle, and now his did.
Oh, dear.
But that wasn't the real issue. No, the real problem arose with each swallow he took, his Adam's apple bobbing enticingly, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine and causing me to unconsciously moisten my lips.
Suddenly, I found myself parched once more, and water was the last thing on my mind.
The relentless sun beat down on us, casting Jackson in a light that made him look like some kind of deity, and I couldn't help but envy the simple water bottle, wishing it were my lips he was touching.
"I need help," I muttered, tearing my gaze away as I realized I must look like a stalker eyeing her prey. And as if on cue, I noticed a group of girls with shopping bags, ogling Jackson just as I had moments before.
This was not good.
"I'm hungry," I blurted out, my stomach growling in agreement.
He tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trash can before turning to me. "Really?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Yeah," I replied, trailing off as I glanced back at the approaching girls. My eyes widened as I noticed one of them heading our way. She looked a bit older, maybe around 20. Who knew what she wanted?
"Okay then, let's go," Jackson said, and that was all the signal I needed. Without hesitation, I grabbed his hand and started walking, making sure to veer to the other side of the road to avoid being followed.
"Hey," I stopped in my tracks, puzzled by his sudden call. "Is something wrong, or are you just really hungry?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Just hungry," I replied, tearing my gaze away from him to focus on the building construction behind him. I'd lied enough for one day; maybe it was time to start telling the truth.
I turned back to him, noticing the slight nod he gave before speaking again. "So, it didn't have anything to do with those girls you were glaring at?"
I'll tell the truth another time, I decided. "Uh... no way!"
He raised his hands in mock surrender, a suppressed laugh bubbling up in his throat. His eyes flickered briefly behind me before returning to mine.
But then his smile faded.
Curious, I followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at a Chinese restaurant. It shouldn't have been anything to feel down about, but then I noticed a couple exiting the restaurant with their young son in tow. The little boy was practically bouncing with excitement, and I watched as he nearly stumbled before his parents steadied him. Suddenly, the father scooped the boy up into his arms, and they continued walking, disappearing into the distance.
Oh.
My heart clenched as I watched Jackson's expression darken, a pang of sadness reverberating through me. It was impossible not to remember that his own parents were separated, and the sight of the happy family leaving the restaurant must have stirred up painful memories for him.
Without thinking, I reached out and gently touched his arm, offering what little comfort I could. "Hey," I said softly, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, I could go for some sushi and maybe kimchi right about now,"
Jackson glanced at me, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice tentative.
"Yeah," I affirmed, returning his smile.
He nodded, and I felt a rush of relief flood through me. It was a small gesture, but I hoped it would help chase away the shadows that lingered in his eyes.
Feeling a surge of excitement and wanting to take a bold step, I gently removed my hand from his shoulder and reached for his hand. Our fingers intertwined, mirroring the way he had done it for me earlier, and the expression of surprise on his face was utterly adorable.
"Let's go," I said.
As we stepped into the restaurant, the unmistakable aura of a Chinese eatery enveloped us. The fusion of modern and traditional decor was captivating.
We snagged an empty table, and in no time, a young waiter appeared before us.
"Welcome to Xing Restaurant, what can I get for you guys?" His warm smile was directed at me as I reached for the menu, already planning to order sushi and kimchi, until I stumbled upon the unfamiliar characters.
"Um... Is this in Chinese?" I glanced over at Jackson, who quickly confirmed my suspicion.
He nodded, "Yeah, but I can translate for you if you want."
Jackson's serious tone gave me butterflies, as if we were more than just friends. If only that were true. Sigh.
The waiter reassured us, "No problem, just let me know when you're ready to order," before departing.
"You can translate?" I raised an eyebrow, arms crossed.
Jackson shrugged casually, "Sure, I'm half Chinese, so I know my way around the characters."
Was there anything this guy couldn't do?
"Not much of an artist, though," he added, catching my slip.
Stay calm. Just go with it.
"Really? I thought drawing was a natural talent for Koreans, according to kdramas," I teased, trying to ease the tension.
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Nah, that's just TV magic. No one can be good at everything."
"But you seem to be," I blurted out, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
"Does that bother you?" His tone shifted, suddenly serious.
"What?" I stuttered, caught off guard.
"Me being good at stuff. Maddy thinks I'm like the guy from 'Bride of the Water God.' What do you think?"
"You should ask someone else," I said, trying to downplay my feelings.
"But I'm asking you. Your opinion matters most," he replied with that familiar smile, taking me back to our childhood.
I struggled to find the right words, feeling a lump in my throat. I just wanted to enjoy sushi with him, not confess my feelings.
So, naturally, I blurted out the dumbest thing imaginable.
"You're Yeppuda."