Chapter 19
Anna
I am never drinking wine again.
Okay, that’s a lie. I love wine. Wine and I have been through a lot together. And the Dirty B’s would kill me. But after last night? I need a solid twenty-four hours of sobriety before I even look at my Merlot bottle again.
I groan into my pillow, but the betrayal of my own brain continues. It replays the scene like I’m watching my own downfall in slow motion.
The way he stepped closer. The heat in his eyes. The gravity between us, pulling me in like I was caught in some stupid, reckless orbit.
And the worst part? The absolute worst fucking part?
I almost kissed him.
Not the other way around. Me. I was the one who lost my goddamn mind.
I shove my face deeper into the pillow, willing myself to suffocate on sheer embarrassment alone.
It was the wine. It had to be.
Well, the wine and the fact that he walked in right when I was reading the filthiest sword-crossing scene imaginable.
It was the hottest thing I’ve read in a long time and I was seriously considering heading to my bedroom for some “alone time” before Joel got home.
But no… It was strategic timing sabotage by the universe.
What are the odds?
Actually, high, considering my current luck.
Joel’s shower situation crops up in my mind unbidden, making my insides heat.
God, I hope he doesn’t say anything.
What if he thinks I actually wanted the kiss?
Worse—what if he doesn’t mention it at all?
Actually, I don’t know which is worse, him pretending it never happened or me knowing that he knows and him smirking about it every time he looks at me.
Which, let’s be honest, he’s definitely going to do.
He’s probably already storing it as ammo. The next time I roll my eyes at him, he’ll just grin and say, “What? You weren’t rolling your eyes last night when you almost kissed me, Ace.”
Of course he is. I bet he’s been smiling to himself, perfectly smug in his stupid, rockstar arrogance. Someone send help.
I groan and throw my pillow across the room.
I exhale sharply, shifting onto my back to stare at the ceiling.
Why did I even mention sword crossing? Good god, Anna.
What if he looked it up? I wouldn’t put it past him.
The thought makes my stomach plummet.
Joel Price, Googling “sword crossing romance novel meaning” like some oblivious idiot, only to be slapped in the face with the dirtiest excerpts from the internet?
I physically cringe and I can literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.
What if he finds a Reddit thread?
What if he clicks on some fanfic?
What if he learns things I can never un-know?!
Oh my god. What have I done?
I shut my eyes, fingers pressing into my temples.
No. He wouldn’t.
…Would he?
No, Anna. You don’t care.
I do care.
I don’t want to care.
I groan again and pull the blanket over my head.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
I’m fan-fucking-tastic.
Besides, if I ignore it long enough, my mortification will fade. That’s how it works, right?
I reach for my phone on my nightstand, desperate for distraction, only to find a missed call from Mom.
And a text.
Shit.
Mom: Call me back ASAP. Important. Love you!
I stare at the screen like it’s rigged to explode.
I don’t want to talk about Mina’s doljanchi at seven thirty in the morning.
I debate my options. I could pretend I didn’t see it. I could fake sleep. But if I don’t respond soon, she’ll assume I’m dead and start calling Ethan.
And if Ethan gets dragged into this first, he will absolutely call me to demand why I didn’t intervene sooner. And if I don’t answer him, he’ll be straight down here, bursting through my door and stealing my leftovers.
With a sigh, I dial her number and press the phone to my ear.
She picks up on the first ring.
“Anna, sweetie. Finally. I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”
Oh my god, you’d think I’d been ignoring her for days.
I sigh, already regretting this. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“I wanted to check in about Mina’s doljanchi. I know we talked about you helping with RSVPs and the dol table, but you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
I frown, wishing I had gotten coffee before making this call. “Wait—what?”
“Tessa and I have it all handled,” she says breezily, like this isn’t a huge revelation.
“Invitations were sent weeks ago, and the dol table is already planned. I found the perfect hanbok for Mina, the baekseolgi cake is ordered, and the doljabi setup is going to be so cute. Tessa has been wonderful—she made sure we got the traditional bokjori for luck and even found a silk table runner to match Mina’s outfit. ”
I blink, trying to process. “Wait… that means when you came over a few days ago, you already had this stuff organized. And you’re only telling me now?”
“Of course, sweetie,” she says, like this is totally normal. “I’m telling you and Ethan now so neither of you can back out by dragging your feet the way you both tend to do. Besides, did you honestly think I’d put either of you on something as important as the invites and dol table?”
I let out a slow breath, oddly impressed. “Wow. That’s... calculated.”
Mom tsks like she didn’t just admit to a Taylor Swift level mastermind. “I knew you’d say something like that. But it’s Mina’s day, Anna. We just want it to be special.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, so if you and Tessa did everything, what exactly do you need me for? I mean, other than to show up in full Korean garb.”
“Oh—” Her voice brightens, and I instantly regret asking. “I need you on the music.”
I sit up so fast my phone almost slips from my hand. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The music,” she repeats, like this isn’t a big deal. “You’ll be in charge of it.”
I scoff. “Mom. Mina’s one. She doesn’t care what’s playing. Hell, I could put on an endless stream of Ni Hao, Kai-Lan in the background and she’d be happier.”
“You’re right,” she agrees easily, and for a second, I think I’ve won.
Then she lands the real punch. Because, she’s my mother.
“So I guess you and Joel can just play some music together.”
I choke. “I’m sorry, say huh?”
“You used to love playing together all the tine,” she says, like this is a fond nostalgia moment and not an absolute nightmare.
“I still remember when you and Joel would practice in Ethan’s room for hours.
Oh, you were so cute. You’d get all serious when he’d try to improvise, and he’d just laugh and say you were too structured—remember that? ”
Oh, I remember. I remember all too well.
“Mom—” I warn, shaking my head.
“I used to love hearing you two,” she sighs wistfully, completely ignoring the abject panic rolling through me. “You were always in sync, even when you pretended you weren’t. I bet if you tried, you’d still sound just as good together.”
Yeah. Because that’s the problem.
Mom sighs again. The drama in this sigh. The full-weight K-drama protagonist has been betrayed sigh.
“You know,” she says, voice soft, dangerously soft, “when you were ten, you and Joel wrote a whole song for Appa’s birthday. Do you remember that?”
I freeze.
I forgot about that. Well, actually, pretty sure I suppressed it, but whatever.
But now that she’s said it, the memory crashes over me in full detail—Joel, sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor, plucking clumsily at the guitar while I insisted that he had to learn the right chord progression.
“Dude, this is a masterpiece,” he’d said dramatically, flipping his hair. “We’re gonna be famous one day.”
And then the actual lyrics come back, and—
Oh.
Oh God.
“Appa, you’re the best, better than the rest, even when you make us clean, you’re still the dream—”
It was dumb. but we spent days perfecting it, sneaking around the house trying to practice without him hearing.
And the way my father smiled when we played it?
I slap a hand over my face.
We were so stupid.
And Appa loved it anyway.
My throat tightens.
Mom, clearly sensing weakness, presses forward.
“He kept that little recording on his phone for years, you know. He’d play it every once in a while and tell me, ‘They’re going to do something big someday.’” She laughs softly. “He loved hearing you two together.”
“Appa? My Appa?” I gape. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same man?”
“Of course, it was the same man,” she says like I’m the absurd one.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Not fair. Not fucking fair.
This event isn’t even for him. It’s for Mina, for crying out loud.
I try to think of a way out. Any way out. “Mom, I don’t—”
“Anna.”
One word. That’s all it takes.
The warning in her voice is clear. She’s not asking. She’s deciding.
I grit my teeth, my entire body fighting against the inevitable.
“…Fine.”
“Wonderful!” she chirps. “I’ll let Joel know you’re in.”
I groan into my hands. “He already knows, doesn’t he?”
Mom chuckles. “Of course he does. I talked to him an hour ago.”
Oh my god.
I collapse back into my pillows as Mom cheerfully ends the call.
Then, I just lie there, staring at my ceiling.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then, I explode.
I fling my phone across the bed like it’s infected with Joel Price’s smug, insufferable aura.
I throw off my blankets and pull on a hoodie and sweatpants, then I march to the kitchen.
I make coffee like it has personally wronged me by not supporting me through that hellscape of a phone call.
Then, for the next ten minutes, I stand by the counter, gripping my mug, steam curling into my face, seething.
I almost text Tessa, because why did she go along with this?
Me: Did you know about my mother’s ridiculous plan to torture me?
I hesitate, then delete it.
No. It’s not Tessa’s fault. My mother is devious. I wouldn’t go against her, either.
However…
I inhale. I exhale.
Then, I snatch my phone back up, fingers already flying over the screen.
Me: ETHAN.
Me: Did you KNOW ABOUT THIS??
Ethan: what?
Me: Mom just told me I have to do music for Mina’s party. WITH. JOEL.
Ethan: Lol yeah, she told me earlier
Me: AND YOU DIDN’T WARN ME?
Ethan: well, for starters, didn’t think you’d be awake yet. besides, figured it was safer to let you find out from her first. I don’t have a death wish
Me: You are dead to me.
Ethan: Harsh. But understandable. RIP me.
Ethan: Any chance you could make a playlist for my funeral?
Me: I hope your ghost is haunted by Nickelback and Baby Shark on loop.
Ethan: Damn. That’s cold.
Ethan: What if I just had you and Joel—
Me: Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.
Ethan: Just saying, you could bond over my death.
Me: I’m blocking you.
Ethan: Love youuuu.
Ethan: Tell Joel hi for me.
I growl at his stupid text and open my calendar app.
Six days.
Six.
That’s less than a week until I have to stand next to Joel Price and pretend like he doesn’t ruin my life by merely existing. But it’s also six fucking days of having to plan and practice with him.
Oh, and guess what?
Mom just made a group chat. Swell.
Mom: Joel and Anna, you should start planning this week. Let me know if you need anything!
Joel’s already responding, the traitorous bastard.
Joel: Got it. Looking forward to it.
I hate him.
But it gets worse.
Joel: Should we do a ballad, Ace? Maybe a heartfelt acoustic moment?
My entire body revolts.
Me: I will walk into Lake Superior before that happens.
Joel: Okay, okay. What about some EDM?
Mom: I trust you both to be professional.
Joel: Of course. I’m very professional.
I narrow my eyes at my screen.
Me: Lies.
Joel: You wound me, Ace.
Joel: Guess I’ll just have to prove myself when we rehearse.
I squint the last word, then slam my phone down on the counter. For good measure, I throw eye daggers in the direction of my spare room.
I am so not surviving this next week.
I thought the last one was bad. But this…
Even more forced proximity with him?
Fuck my actual life.
Yep, now’s not the time to quit drinking. In fact, I’m going to need more wine. Stat.
And maybe a priest.