try too hard to figure out the puzzle that was Miyoung. But he also believed he had only two choices when faced with another person’s misery: ignore it or try to fix it.
Jihoon stood and retrieved an extra helmet from the scooter, walked back to Miyoung, and dropped it over her head.
“What are you doing?” Miyoung tried to pull the helmet off but Jihoon held it in place until she gave up.
“We’re going for a ride. The air might help you clear your head. It usually helps me.”
“My mother says men only want one thing from women after dark,” Miyoung said.
Jihoon choked in surprise. “Well, that’s what your mother thinks. What do you think?”
She blinked as if confused by his question.
“Give me five minutes. If you hate it, I’ll bring you right back.” He held out his hand. “Call?”
She stared at his palm so long he wondered if she was going to decline.
“Call.”
He climbed onto the scooter and clipped his helmet shut as he waited for Miyoung to settle behind him.
“So you’ve agreed, then,” he said as he started the scooter.
“To what?”
“That we’re friends for the night. It was in the fine print. All agreements have it.” He took off down the road, the sputtering scooter so loud it drowned out any reply.
At first, Miyoung sat rigid so no part of them touched. Jihoon grinned and perhaps took the next turn too sharp on purpose. His grin spread into a full-fledged smile when her arms wrapped around his waist. When she tried to pull away again, he placed a hand over hers.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You have to hold on.”
He felt her hesitation before she laced her fingers together.
Her arms tightened as a truck passed a little too close, horn blaring.
“Ease up on the superhuman choke holds,” he called back.
“Oh, sorry.” Her voice breathed into his ear, sending a spike of energy down his spine.
Their closeness hit him. Not that he didn’t know she was flush against him before. But it was all he could think about now. How her chin rested lightly against his shoulder. Her hands splayed across his belly. The curves of her torso leaned into his back.
In his distracted state he almost missed the turn and took it so fast the wheels of the scooter skidded, kicking up dust and smoke that smelled of burnt rubber. But he made it onto the road leading up a steep mountainside.
As the roads climbed higher, Miyoung asked, “Where are we going?”
“Secret.”
Jihoon drove until the city lights below dimmed and the stars took over. Stopping at a curve in the road, he parked along the thick shoulder that created an overlook to the city.
Miyoung pulled the helmet off, shaking her hair free. Jihoon was mesmerized by the snaking movement of raven tendrils as they fell across her shoulders, fine silk floating over the pressed uniform blazer.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Huh?” He blinked and realized he’d been staring. “It’s where I come whenever the city is too loud or I just need to think.” Jihoon worked on releasing the tension from his body, willing it to sift away with the wind that pulled at his jacket.
The city lay before them, the buildings scattered toward the horizon. Skyscrapers reached toward the heavens, built so high they looked as tall as the mountains beyond. “Ten minutes up here and you’ll forget what was bothering you.”
“I doubt it,” Miyoung said, but she took in the view. “How did you find this place?”
“My father brought me here once.” One of Jihoon’s only good memories of the man.
“Jaegil said he was a criminal.”
The words weren’t said with judgment but they still made Jihoon tense.
“He’s one to talk. His father isn’t a gem either. Everyone knows he works as muscle for one of the local gangs.”
“Explains why Jaegil’s such a bully.” Miyoung sighed at the vicious cycle of violence passed down from parent to child. “When did your father leave?”
The question surprised him. Usually people skirted the topic of his parents’ abandonment.
“When I was four. My mother didn’t want to raise a kid alone, so she decided the best thing to do was leave, too. They were actually perfect for each other. Always thinking of themselves no matter the consequences.” He let out a sigh, rubbing at the knots in his stomach.
“Parents can be selfish,” Miyoung mused.
“Are you talking about your father?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you said he left you. I wondered if it bothers you.” He hesitated, then added, “Like it bothers me.”