8. Mighty Wang #2
He watches my mouth as I bite. “I did, I did. I just didn’t know you were going to go all foreign film nerd on me.”
I push the wonton to the side of my mouth before I correct him. “That’s a romantic foreign film nerd.” Finishing the bite, I deftly grab some noodles with my chopsticks. “And this is a series, not a film. So if you hate it, it will only be an hour of your life, not two.”
We settle back against the front of the couch.
I’m not sure if Ian didn’t want to chance spilling food on his expensive furniture or if he prefers sitting on the floor, but when I came downstairs from my bath he had already dragged the coffee table out of the way and was laying down blankets and pillows on the floor.
Which he then topped with a vast array of cardboard food containers.
Buffet style. It reminds me of the food truck park.
I allow myself to slouch slightly to the side until my shoulder touches his arm. I’m getting too comfortable around him, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s like his house is an isolated bubble, free of my past and worries. Or maybe it’s just him.
From the corner of my eye, I see him smile at me before grabbing an eggroll. “This is a Korean show?”
I maneuver chopsticks in my lo mein, picking up a bite of chicken. “Yep. It’s been all over my Instagram feed, or rather Audrey Cole’s Instagram feed. All my readers and fellow authors love it.”
The beginning credits roll, my heart fluttering when Hyun Bin enters the screen. He is the best . I sigh and shimmy happily in my spot.
Ian snorts. “So what’s the premise?” He stabs into his container of mango chicken with a fork.
“A South Korean woman has a paragliding accident and crash lands in North Korea, where a soldier helps her hide while finding her a way back home. And of course, along the way, they fall in love.”
He nods, looking genuinely interested. “Cool,” he says around his food. Swallowing, he grins at me. “Then there’ll be soldiers.”
I laugh. “Hate to break it to you, but none of my followers mentioned any action scenes.”
Ian winks, looking seriously handsome even with sauce on his chin. “One can always hope for some action.”
I choke on lo mien.
Ian claps my back until I’m under control again.
He continues rubbing, causing my mind to remember where else he’s rubbed me today.
He hasn’t mentioned our al fresco make-out session since I woke up sprawled on top of him.
But he isn’t awkward, just… cautious. Like he doesn’t want to break the moment.
Which I feel bad about. All my secrets stacked up between us.
He deserves more, and I’m selfishly taking without giving back.
He hasn’t even questioned me about my past, not even when I mentioned Audrey Cole’s Instagram.
Ian leans forward, surveying his choices before picking up a container of cashew chicken. “I wonder if I’ll be able to speak Korean after this?”
I scoff, thankfully my mouth empty of food. “You think after watching a K-drama you’re going to be fluent?”
He only has time to shrug before I wave him quiet when the theme song ends. I’m not usually a talker during movies, but with subtitles you really can’t look away from the screen or you’ll get lost.
Three hours later, our dinner containers are gone, and we’re cuddling in a nest of pillows and blankets.
“Another?” Ian struggles up from our cocoon and reaches for the remote. He looks so eager.
“You really like it, huh?” I stretch, circling my ankles.
“Ye.” He winks.
Laughing, I roll my eyes. “You think because you know how to say yes in Korean, you’re fluent?”
“Amado.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”
Chuckling he drops back down on the pillows. “Nah. I just picked up some phrases.”
Still on my back, I drop my head to the side to look at him. “In three hours?”
Head turned to me as well, he shrugs. “Languages are like puzzles, and I’ve always liked puzzles. Math, science, space, languages, I like figuring things out.”
I mull this over. “Is that why you work at NASA?”
“Mm-hmm.” His eyes track to the side. “Now, yes.”
Before I can ask what he means by “now,” he throws me for a loop.
“That’s one of the reasons I didn’t go to the Olympics. There wasn’t much else for me to figure out.” Looking back up at the ceiling, he puts his hands behind his head, like he didn’t just drop an information bomb.
I sit up, knocking pillows out of place. “I’m sorry, you were in the Olympics ?”
Frowning, he looks over at my shocked expression. “You didn’t know?”
Feeling oddly guilty, I pout. “Apparently there is a lot I don’t know about you.”
He smiles, but it’s sad. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you either, so I guess that’s fair.”
I concentrate on rearranging the pillows. “You know more than anyone else,” I offer.
His smile warms a bit. “That’s something, then.”
I pat a pillow into place before flopping back down, facing him. “And since you know about my secret job and college courses, it’s only fair I know about Olympian Ian Kincaid.”
He shakes his head. “Not Olympian.”
I wait him out, the light from the TV highlighting his sharp jawline.
He lasts about twenty seconds before he sighs, giving in.
“I swam competitively since high school. Did water polo as well as swim team.” He shrugs.
“I’m built for it, so that helped. And I didn’t want to chance concussions with football, soccer, or hockey.
” His brow furrows, as if thinking of something.
“Plus, the extracurriculars got me out of the house after school and on weekends.”
I keep the question that pops up from that confession to myself.
“Anyway,” Ian says, clearing his throat.
“Like I said, I was built for it, and the science teacher doubled as the swim coach. He told me all about the physics of being a swimmer. Figuring out the proper technique to reduce frontal drag in the water. The perfect angle of your hands and the degree of separation between your fingers all work together to propel a swimmer faster. It was fun trying it out. Doing the math and seeing results on the score board.”
“Wow. I never knew sports could be so mathy.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Mathy?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “A Rose-ism.”
He nods, grinning. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
We’re quiet for a few minutes before I risk a question. “So you didn’t go to the Olympics because you figured out the math?”
“Well, no,” he admits, eyes on the TV, the trailer for the Korean drama stuck on replay as we talk. “I was going to go, but the scholarship I received from MIT couldn’t be deferred. I had to choose between Olympics and grad school.”
I bite my lip, but I still can’t help but ask, “But why did you need a scholarship? I, uh, thought your family was?—”
“Rich?”
When I nod, embarrassed, he smiles. “What, you can call me rich boy but not actually talk about my money?”
“Oh hush.” I huff, curling up under a blanket. “That’s different.”
He tucks the corner of the blanket under me. “If you say so.” He sighs once more at my expectant look before fixing his gaze to the ceiling. Like it’s easier for him to share that way.
I get that.
“My father wouldn’t pay for MIT. He wanted me to continue on at Harvard and go to law school.
So I applied without him knowing. A week before the semester started, I told a local reporter about it and had it printed in the paper before telling my dad.
That way my father couldn’t pull any strings and get my scholarship revoked. ”
Thinking of all the paperwork and secret things I had to do on the side just to enroll under Audrey Cole’s name, I can sympathize with him.
I have so many questions. Why would a newspaper article keep his father from stopping him?
Is his relationship with his father so strained?
Is that why he needs me to go as his date?
Instead, I settle for something less personal. Safer.
“Are you happy with your decision to go to MIT and not the Olympics?”
“Oh yeah.” He smiles. “Because now I can apply those same principles to spacewalks. If you think about it, astronauts are swimming in space, but instead of factoring in drag, it is the absence of drag we have to worry about.” His eyes light up.
“And no walk is the same. Just because you figured out the math for one spacewalk doesn’t mean all others follow the same principles.
It’s not the same lane you’re swimming in, back and forth.
Each spacewalk has a different objective.
It’s changing all the time. New puzzles to figure out.
” The excitement in his voice makes me smile, his dimples a sign that he thrives with all the challenges he faces at NASA.
If I spill all my secrets, if he knows everything there is to know about me, would he consider me solved and move on too?