Chapter 24
Joel
My heart is a jackhammer, pounding against my ribs as I strum the opening chords to Always You.
This isn’t just a song. It’s the song.
The one that’s been sitting in my chest, waiting for the right moment to be heard. And maybe now’s not the best time, but it’s the right one. Hell, it might be the only chance I get where she’s too bogged down by familial obligation to run.
God knows she won’t come to my performance tonight to hear it.
This song, it carries every unsaid thing between me and Anna. She has to hear it. She has to know…
I need her to.
I find her in the crowd the second I start singing. She’s still standing near the stage, arms crossed tight over her chest, chin up like she’s daring me to make her feel something.
I start singing, letting the words carry this thing that feels to big.
I was too young to name it,
Too scared to let it grow.
So I called it nothing, buried it deep—
But love has roots I didn’t know.
I glance over to her, locking my gaze on hers.
Her eyes—fuck, her eyes betray her.
She’s listening.
I don’t let myself look away. If she’s going to pretend this means nothing, she’s damn well going to do it knowing I see her doing it.
The words come easy now because they’re real. They’re hers. My voice is steady, but inside, I’m raw, exposed in a way I haven’t been in years.
You were the song I never finished,
The note that lingered in my chest.
You were the fire I let burn down,
And the spark I never let rest.
I don’t just sing this song. I pour myself into it.
My throat tightens, and I have to swallow hard.
I hit the next note, but my voice catches for a split second. A crack I can’t hide.
And I know she catches it. I see it in her expression.
Every note, every lyric—it’s not just a performance. It’s a confession, a prayer.
A last chance.
I watch Anna like my life depends on it.
Because maybe it does.
It reminds me of that day—the one where I sang her song for the whole school. But really, it was for her. My last goodbye.
If only I had known…
Her face stays still, unreadable. Arms crossed, chin high. But I see it—the tightness in her throat, the way her fingers dig into her arms.
I push harder, my voice roughening.
Did you know?
Did you see?
That every almost—still led me back to you and me?
Her breath catches.
And for a second—just a flicker—I let myself hope.
Maybe she won’t run.
Maybe she’ll stay.
Then her chin wobbles. Her eyes shine with unshed tears.
And I know.
Shit. She’s gonna bolt.
I should’ve planned for it. Should’ve known better than to think she’d stay and let me bare my fucking soul in front of an entire room of her extended family.
But I was desperate. I thought—hoped—that maybe, just maybe, she’d hear the song and understand. That it would be enough to crack open whatever this is between us.
Stupid.
I see her shoulders tighten. See her shift on her feet. And then—she turns around and runs.
I drop my guitar onto the stand so fast the strings vibrate in protest. “Shit,” I mutter, already moving.
I push through the crowd, ignoring the whispers—the way Mina reaches out for me as I rush past.
Someone murmurs, Are they together? and I hear Ethan’s baffled, “What? Of course not—”
None of it matters.
Anna matters.
I lose sight of her for half a second, and my stomach clenches.
Not again.
I push forward, shoving past shoulders, ignoring the startled looks. The need to reach her is animalistic—instinctual.
I get into the hallway just in time to see her disappear around the corner, and I sprint. My legs are on fire and my heart is pounding in my ears.
By the time I reach her, she’s at the end of the corridor, staring at the closed security gate blocking off the university’s main wing for the weekend.
End of the line.
Her breath is shallow, like she’s trying to pull herself together.
I slow my steps, but my voice is firm. “You weren’t supposed to run.”
She flinches, then straightens, whirling on me like a goddamn storm.
Good. Let her rage. I’m not leaving.
“What the hell was that, Joel?” Her voice is sharp, slicing through the air between us. “Was that supposed to be—what? A grand apology? A manipulation? That was my whole family in there. You think you can just sing some song and—”
“No,” I cut in, quiet but certain. “I just wanted to tell you the truth.”
She scoffs. “Oh, great. Because you’ve always been so good at that.”
She wants me to bite. She wants me to fight her, to snap back, to play the game we’ve been playing since we were teenagers.
I don’t.
I step forward, slow and sure, closing the space between us. Not enough to crowd her. Just enough that she feels it.
“I don’t know what to do with this anymore, Anna.” My voice is rough, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to do with you. With this… ache.” I rub my hand across my chest like it will somehow lessen what radiates from that space.
She blinks, caught off guard, but I keep going.
“I know I screwed up back then. I know I hurt you. But that’s not what this is about. I didn’t play that song because I wanted to fix something that’s broken.” I exhale, shaking my head. “I played it because I wanted you to hear me. To know that every time I look at you, my brain just—stops.”
She swallows, her throat working around something unsaid, but I’m not done.
“I wanted you to know that it’s not just guilt.
It’s not just regret.” I let out a shaky breath.
“God, you’re so infuriating, Anna. But I love it.
I love your fire, your wit, your goddamn stubbornness.
Somehow, I’m even attracted to the way you make me crazy.
And I don’t—I don’t know what it means. I don’t know where to put it—what the hell to do with it. I just—”
Her hands are clenched into fists. She’s vibrating with tension, and I expect her to shove me, to yell at me, to do something.
Instead, she whispers, “You don’t get to say that.”
“I do.” I take another step. “And I mean it. Fuck, I mean every word of it.”
She inhales sharply, eyes darting away like she’s looking for a way out, but there isn’t one. She’s trapped here with me, just like I’m trapped with this thing between us.
Her breath is shaky when she finally speaks. “You’re insane. Bonkers. Out of your fucking mind.”
“Maybe.” I nod, slow. Then, shrug. “Maybe not.” I drop my voice even lower and confess, “But I know I want you.”
There. It’s out—and I can’t take it back.
Her gaze snaps to mine. Her lips part like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Maybe she can’t.
For a moment, we just stand there.
The air between us is electric, buzzing with everything unspoken, everything denied.
Her breath is coming fast, but she refuses to look directly at me.
I step in closer—slow, deliberate. Close enough that I know she feels the heat between us, the pull that’s always been there, even when we were too damn young to name it.
“You feel it too,” I murmur. “I know you do.”
She flinches, but her gaze flicks back to mine, burning with frustration. “No.”
I shake my head, a hint of a smile slipping through. “Liar.”
Her fingers twitch, like she’s fighting the urge to do something—shove me, pull me closer, I don’t even know.
Maybe she doesn’t either.
I lower my voice, let it roughen around the edges. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me? The way your breath catches when I get close? It’s the same for you. I know it is.”
She shakes her head, stubborn as ever, but she’s shaken.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I press, stepping even closer.
She doesn’t.
Her chest rises and falls too fast, her throat working around words she won’t let herself say.
I lift my hand and trail my fingertips along the column of her neck, needing to feel her beneath them.
A sharp inhale. A full-body shudder.
She’s breathing hard, her chest rising and falling too fast, like she’s just run a mile.
The scent of vanilla and adrenaline clings to her skin, mixing with the lingering warmth of the crowded party.
She’s so close now, just inches away, and I focus on the heat rolling off her body. It grounds me.
Her fingers flex at her sides, like she’s fighting the urge to do something.
Fight me. Touch me.
Just don’t run, Ace.
Stay.
“You’re wrong,” she finally whispers, but it’s barely a breath.
“Liar,” I repeat, tipping my head down, close enough that if she just leaned in—
She shoves me. Hard.
I barely stumble, but her hands stay fisted on the front of my hanbok. Her touch sparks my pulse to ratchet and now it’s my breath that hitches.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice is strained, almost desperate. “Why can’t you just let this go?”
“Because I can’t.” The words are ragged, torn from somewhere deep. “I don’t think you can, either.”
She makes a sound—frustration, denial, something breaking. Her chest is heaving, her pulse a wild, stuttering thing against her throat. I want to run my tongue over it.
The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, like neither of us can breathe.
Her gaze flicks to my mouth.
And that’s it. That’s the moment.
I see it happening before it does, but I can’t convince my brain that it’s the truth—not yet.
Her fingers grip tighter to my hanbok and my pulse kicks like a gunshot, tempting other parts of me to awaken.
Her breath ghosts against my lips, one last moment of hesitation—
And then, she yanks me down—and suddenly, her mouth crashes into mine.
It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s raw and messy and too much and not enough—everything all at once.
For a second, I don’t move.
I just let myself feel it.
Anna Chang—stubborn, impossible, infuriating Anna—is kissing me.
After all these years. After all the pushing and pulling, the fighting, the pretending—she snapped first. Sort of.
She’s kissing me.
My brain short-circuits. My entire world tilts on its damn axis.
Because this? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Was it?
Was this what I was going for?
And then my body catches up.
Something deep in my chest ignites, roars awake. A primal, gut-wrenching YES.
Yes, finally.
Yes, we’re doing this.
The realization slams through me, and suddenly, I can’t just stand here like a fucking idiot. I have to kiss her back.
I tilt my head, deepening it, taking control now that I know she’s giving in. My hands move—not to hold her back, but to hold her close. To keep her close. Because now that I have her, there’s no fucking way I’m letting go.
I twist my fingers through her hair, pulling her flush against me.
Her body melts, then tenses, then melts again, like she doesn’t know if she’s supposed to fight it or let it devour her.
The second she gasps against my mouth, I take the opening—deepening, demanding, fucking losing myself in her.
She presses closer, her hands sliding up my chest, and I swear to God—I’ve never felt anything like this. Never like her.
If we weren’t in the middle of a goddamn school—
She pulls me closer, like she doesn’t know how to stop, either.
I tilt my head, deepening everything, tasting her frustration, her surrender, her fucking fire.
And when she whimpers against my mouth?
It wrecks me.
Because this isn’t just anger or frustration or history combusting into a kiss.
This is relief.
It’s inevitable.
It’s every stolen glance, every late-night argument, every moment we spent trying to convince ourselves this didn’t mean something.
And fuck, I’m gone. So fucking gone.
The hallway, the party, the years of pushing and pulling and pretending—all of it fades.
There’s just this.
Me. Her.
And the truth we can’t run from anymore.
When she finally pulls back, she doesn’t move far. Not that I would let her.
Her lips are kiss-swollen, her breath uneven.
I don’t let go.
Not yet.
Her hands are still clutching onto my hanbok, like she doesn’t realize she hasn’t let go.
My forehead drops to hers, both of us still breathing too hard, too uneven.
“So, that happened,” I whisper, not even meaning to say it out loud.
Her eyes flick to mine, wide—like she’s barely holding it together.
Like she can’t believe what she just did.
Like she might do it again.
Like she might run.
But there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let her.
I keep my hands on her waist, grounding her, grounding us.
Then, I drag my thumb across her lower lip, just once, testing—was that real?
Her eyes lock onto mine. Wide. Wild. Wrecked.
She’s shaking. Or maybe I am. I can’t tell anymore.
Then I murmur, voice still hoarse from kissing her—my body still vibrating with energy. “You kissed me.”
She swallows hard, that beautiful smart mouth of hers somehow silenced.
“You kissed me first,” I repeat, because it feels so fucking good to say it.
She blinks fast, like she’s trying to make sense of it but it’s not computing.
I let out a breath, grinning like an idiot. “Took you long enough, Ace.”
Her jaw tightens as she comes to her senses. Just a little bit. “Don’t start.”
I chuckle. “I think I just did.”
She groans, hiding her face in her hands.
And fuck, I think I’m in love with her.
Hell, I think maybe…
Maybe I always have been.