Chapter Twelve
Jack
––––––––
T HE AIRPORT ARRIVALS board flickers overhead, updating flight statuses in blinking green letters. Flight 227 - On Time. My knee won’t stop bouncing as I check my watch for the tenth time in two minutes. She lands in fifteen.
I adjust my baseball cap, pulling it down. My neck prickles with the weight of potential recognition. Three months ago, I could’ve stood here all day without a second glance. Now? Now there’s a damn Wikipedia page with my name on it.
My phone buzzes.
Liz: Studio at nine tomorrow. Don’t be late.
I shove it back in my pocket without replying. The argument still rings in my ears— “ The company jet isn’t for some girl you like, Jack. That’s not how this works.”
Like Jinnie’s just “some girl.” Like she wasn’t the one who believed in me when I was playing for tips and free sodas.
Liz is overbearing. She seems to have this idea she runs my life. I chalk it up to the strain of working eighteen-hour days and never getting a chance to just sit back and enjoy the success. But I finally put my foot down.
I needed to see Jinnie. It had been too long. I knew she was pissed at me. When I finally managed to talk to her last week, she was very distant. I knew I screwed up. I asked her to come visit me and to my surprise, she actually agreed. I bought her a first-class ticket. It was my way of taking care of her. Now that I was making real money, I wanted to spoil her.
The overhead speaker crackles. “Flight 227 now arriving at Gate B12.”
My pulse kicks up. Business travelers stream past, rolling suitcases clicking against the tile. A family with screaming toddlers. A group of college kids. Then—
There she is.
Her eyes scan the crowd, and when they land on me, something in my chest cracks open. The oxygen is sucked out of the room. I ignore everyone as I move toward her. I don’t give a shit if anyone recognizes me. I only see her.
Then she’s running. She crashes into me. Her arms wrap around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and damn, she smells the same—vanilla and citrus.
“I missed you,” she mumbles into my shirt.
My throat tightens. “Not as much as I missed you.”
When she pulls back, her eyes are suspiciously shiny. I swipe my thumb under one, catching the moisture there. “Hey. None of that.”
She swats at my hand but doesn’t let go of my waist. “Shut up. I’m allowed.”
Her suitcase wheels squeak as I take the handle. “How was first class?”
“Terrifying,” she admits, falling into step beside me. “The flight attendant kept offering me champagne. I think she thought I was someone famous.”
I snort. “You are someone famous. You’re with me.”
Jinnie elbows me in the ribs, but she’s smiling. It’s the real one, the one that crinkles her nose and makes her eyes squint. The one I haven’t seen in months.
And then I feel it happening. I pull my hat down a little lower and grab her hand. “We need to go,” I say.
“What’s wrong?”
I start walking faster, feeling the wave of murmurs as I’m recognized. We make it outside and I practically drag her to the waiting car. We hop in and I barely get the door closed when a guy puts his phone up against the window and starts snapping photos.
“Oh yeah.” She laughs. “You’re famous.”
I groan. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
We make it back to my building. The doorman jumps out to open the door for us. I lead her through the lobby. The elevator ride up is torture. Jinnie stands close enough that our arms brush with every movement.
The doors open directly into the penthouse. Jinnie’s breath catches as she steps into the living room, her gaze sweeping over the massive space.
“Holy shit, Jack,” she whispers.
I drop her bag by the couch. “It’s kinda ridiculous, right?”
She drifts to the windows, pressing her palms against the glass. “It’s a lot.”
There’s something in her voice I can’t place. I move behind her, close but not touching. “You hate it.”
“No!” She turns quickly, her back against the window now. “It’s amazing. It’s just...” Her fingers pluck at my t-shirt. “Not really you , is it?”
The truth hits like a punch. This place—the sleek furniture, the abstract art the decorator picked out, the minibar stocked with liquor I don’t even drink—it’s a set. A stage.
I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips. “You’re the first real thing that’s been in here.”
Her eyes soften.
Then my stomach growls, loud enough to echo. “Sorry.” I cringe. “I’ve been going since five o’clock this morning and only managed to get a protein smoothie this morning. I wanted to make sure I had the whole night with you. I made reservations.”
“Reservations?” she says with a smile.
I realize I haven’t kissed her. I quickly remedy the situation. She leans in to me.
“Maybe I’m not so hungry,” I murmur against her lips.
She smiles. “You need to eat. You’ve lost weight.”
“Because I never have time to eat.”
“Well, I’m not about to let you collapse on my watch. Let’s go.”
The restaurant is all low lighting and white tablecloths, the kind of place where the menus don’t have prices.
“I should’ve warned you,” I murmur across the table. “This place is—”
“Fancy as hell?” She grins. “Yeah, I got that when the hostess looked at my shoes like I had stepped in poop.”
“Your shoes are great.”
“They’re from Target, Jack.”
“So?” I reach across the table, capturing her hand. “Best damn shoes in here.”
The waiter arrives with our appetizers—some tiny, artfully arranged thing involving tuna and foam. Jinnie pokes at it suspiciously.
“We can leave. There’s a Waffle House down the street.”
She shakes her head, spearing a bite with determination. “Nope. When in Rome.”
We make it through three courses before the whispering starts. A group of girls at the next table keep glancing over, their phones subtly angled in our direction.
Jinnie notices immediately. “Fans?”
I grimace. “Probably.”
She studies me for a long moment. “Does that happen a lot now?”
“More than I’d like.”
Something unreadable flickers across her face, but it’s quickly gone. “Tell me about the album. The real stuff, not the press junket version.”
And just like that, we’re back on solid ground. I tell her about the studio, about Dex and the song I wrote at three in the morning that might actually be good. She listens the way she always has—leaning in, asking the right questions, laughing in all the right places.
For the first time in months, I feel like myself.
I eat more than I have in a long time. The steak is cooked to perfection and the side dishes are amazing. Dessert arrives—a decadent chocolate cake that Jinnie insists on sharing. She takes a bite, her eyes closing in bliss as she moans softly. I can’t help but smile. For a moment, it’s just us again. No label, no fans, no expectations. Just Jinnie and Jack.
But the bubble doesn’t last.
As we step out of the restaurant, a small crowd has gathered. Phones are out, cameras flashing. I instinctively pull Jinnie closer to me, shielding her as much as I can.
“Jack! Over here!” someone yells.
“Who’s the girl?” another voice calls.
Jinnie tenses beside me, her grip on my arm tightening. I keep my head down, guiding her quickly to the waiting car. The driver opens the door, and we slide inside. The noise muffles as the door closes, but the tension lingers.
“Are you okay?” I ask, turning to her.
She nods, but her face is pale. “That was intense.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I didn’t think they’d be waiting like that.”
She forces a smile. “It’s fine. Just different.”
The ride back to the penthouse is quiet. When we step inside, she heads straight for the windows, staring out at the city below. I join her, standing close but not touching.
“Are you mad?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head. “Not mad. It’s overwhelming, but I guess that’s part of being a star.”
Her fingers trace the collar of my shirt. “This is new.”
“Liz picked it.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Jinnie stills. Just for a second. Then her hands are moving again, unbuttoning the shirt and sliding it off my shoulders. “I liked the old ones better.”
“Me too.”
“You don’t wear them anymore?”
“I do. Sometimes. I was doing some meet and greet thing earlier and went straight to the airport.”
Her lips find the hollow of my throat, kissing and moving just below my ear. Every touch feels like coming home.
When she pulls back, her eyes are dark, her cheeks flushed. “Bedroom?”
I scoop her up, earning a squeak of protest that turns into laughter as I carry her down the hall. The penthouse, the album, the fucking designer shirts—none of it matters when she’s in my arms.
Her breath hitches as I lay her down on the bed. I hover above her, my hands framing her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. Her eyes are wide, searching mine. I see it there—that same heat, that same hunger that I’ve longed for every night since I left.
“I missed you,” I whisper, my voice rough with need. “Every damn day.”
She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she pulls me down until our lips meet. It’s not soft or tentative—it’s desperate, like we’re both trying to make up for every second we’ve been apart. Her mouth opens under mine. I deepen the kiss, tasting her, relearning the shape of her lips.
Her hands slide down my back. I hiss at the contact. Her touch is electric, sending a jolt straight through me. I pull back just long enough to yank her sweater over her head, tossing it somewhere across the room. Her eyes drop to my chest. She bites her lip like she’s trying to hold back a smile.
“Still like what you see?” I tease, even as my voice shakes.
She answers by sitting up slightly and kissing me again, one hand sliding around to grip the back of my neck while the other trails down my stomach. My abs clench under her touch. I groan into her mouth.
“Jinnie,” I murmur against her lips.
“Jack,” she whispers back, breathless.
She moans softly against my lips as I trail kisses down her jawline and across her collarbone. I realize this isn’t going to go slow. As much as I want to savor this moment, we’re both desperate. We strip naked and I’m over her in a flash. Her body is just as perfect as I remember.
I slide inside her. We move together in a rhythm that’s been missing from both of our lives. The bed creaks under our frantic movements as we find each other again in the heat of the moment. Her moans are my fuel, driving me deeper and harder inside her.
I kiss her neck, teasing her skin with my teeth as I thrust harder. Her nails scratch lightly against my back, leaving trails of pleasure and pain. She meets my thrusts with equal urgency.
Time seems to stand still as we lose ourselves in each other. And then she cries out, her body tensing underneath me in an intense wave of pleasure. I follow her over the edge, groaning her name as I let go and release everything I’ve been holding onto. Our bodies shake together, our hearts pounding in unison.
I collapse onto the bed, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. I roll onto my side to look at her, brushing a stray hair away from her face. She smiles up at me, the satisfaction clear in her eyes.
“Missed you, too,” she whispers.