Chapter Sixteen
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Aria
The private jet hummed through the night, the Pacific a black mirror far below, catching moonlight in silver fractures.
Inside, the cabin was hushed and amber-lit, the flight attendant long since vanished into the galley.
Aria sat curled in the window seat, knees to her chest, Jax’s oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.
His scent—salt, cedar, and something uniquely him—still clung to the fabric, a tangible memory of Brisbane that made her chest ache.
The week had felt stolen. Lazy mornings in Evelyn’s kitchen, sunscreen-slick afternoons by the pool, nights where the only sounds were waves and their breathing.
No flashing cameras, no expectations. Just them.
Now the real world was rushing back in, cold and insistent, and the ease they’d found already felt like something fragile and borrowed.
She glanced across the aisle. Jax was half-reclined, tablet glowing in his hands, scrolling through what she assumed were pre-season emails.
His jaw carried that familiar focused tension, the one that appeared whenever he was mentally mapping out lap times and strategy.
When he noticed her watching, he set the tablet down and offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Penny for your thoughts?” His voice was low, intimate in the quiet cabin.
Aria managed a faint smile. “Just… wondering how long the bubble lasts once we land.”
He stretched his long legs, considering her. “Seoul first. Then I head straight to the factory. New car launch, big gala a week later. Good opportunity for us to be seen together.”
The words landed like a small stone in still water. Good opportunity. She hated how easily they both slipped back into business mode.
Her phone buzzed. Fresh paparazzi shots from the Gold Coast: Jax hauling her out of the surf, both of them laughing, water streaming off their skin. The comments were relentless and warm.
They look so happy.
Jaxria is healing my soul.
She’s glowing. He brings that out in her.
She turned the screen toward him. “They got us on the beach.”
Jax leaned over, shoulder brushing hers as he studied the images. Something flickered across his face—too quick for her to name—before he chuckled. “We do look good together.”
“Yeah,” she said, forcing lightness. “Perfect for the narrative.”
He lingered a moment longer than necessary, then straightened. “I saw something earlier. Min-Jae and that actress… it’s looking shaky. Cryptic posts, fan speculation about a split. Might not need to keep this going as long as we thought.”
Aria’s stomach twisted. She waited for the rush of triumph, the vindication she’d been chasing for months.
It didn’t come. Instead, a sharp, confusing sadness bloomed behind her ribs.
Ending this sooner should have been a relief.
Less pretending. Less risk of forgetting where the lines were drawn.
But the idea of stepping back into her Seoul life without Jax’s steady presence, without his laugh in the mornings or his hand on the small of her back, left her feeling strangely hollow.
She swallowed and nodded. “We should still plan for the long game. Just in case.”
They pulled up their calendars and mapped it out with careful practicality—her awards show in mid-February, his Bahrain testing, the Melbourne season opener.
Public appearances circled in red: the gala, red carpets, trackside walks.
Everything designed to feed the story. Everything designed to keep the world believing they were real.
The whole time, their shoulders kept brushing.
Every small touch sent warmth spiraling through her, but Aria ignored it, locking it down with the same discipline she used in the studio.
This was chemistry. Convenience. The lingering high of Brisbane.
Nothing that could survive the glare of real life.
By the time they finished, the tea had gone cold and the cabin felt smaller, heavier. Aria turned back to the window, staring at the endless dark. The sadness remained, quieter now, but heavier. She told herself it was only the end of the holiday. Nothing more.
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Jax
Jax watched her from across the aisle as she stared out into nothing.
She looked small tucked into his hoodie, knees pulled close as if the world outside the jet might reach in and demand too much.
The planning had been efficient, almost surgical—dates, appearances, photo opportunities.
Every sentence had looped back to “the image,” “the narrative,” “keeping up appearances.” It should have felt clean. Instead it sat like lead in his gut.
He’d seen the beach photos too. They looked real.
Happy. The kind of effortless joy that made strangers on the internet root for them.
But the moment Aria had shown him the pictures, her voice had gone carefully neutral.
Perfect for the narrative. As if the week they’d just shared—her falling asleep on his chest, her quiet confessions in the dark, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only person in the world—had been nothing but content for the publicity machine.
Then he’d mentioned Min-Jae.
He’d done it on purpose, watching for her reaction.
The flicker of sadness that crossed her face had been quick, but unmistakable.
Not triumph. Not relief. Just… sadness. It told him everything he needed to know.
She was still carrying that ghost. Brisbane had been a distraction, the physical side a convenient way to feel wanted while she waited for her ex’s relationship to crumble.
Jax rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes on the tablet screen without really seeing it.
The sex was incredible—addictive, even. The way she responded to him, the sounds she made, the way her body fit against his…
that part was easy to explain. But the rest?
The mornings with Nan telling terrible jokes while Aria laughed until she cried.
The way she’d opened up about her family, her fears, her music.
The quiet pride he felt whenever she nailed a wave or held her own in a conversation with his grandmother.
That had stopped feeling like an arrangement weeks ago.
For him, the clean image and sponsor approval had become secondary. He wanted her. Not the version the cameras saw. The real one.
But she still thought he was in it for the press. Still believed this was surface-level for him. And as long as Min-Jae lingered in the back of her mind, pushing for more would only scare her away.
He glanced at the calendar again. Gala in late January. Her awards in February. Melbourne in March. More pretending. More chances for the lines to blur even further. More chances for him to fall harder while she kept one foot out the door, waiting for a text from the man who’d hurt her.
The thought made something hot and protective flare in his chest. Not just jealousy—frustration that she still measured herself against someone who’d discarded her so easily.
He set the tablet aside and stretched. “We should try to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”
Aria nodded, eyes still on the window. “Yeah. Good idea.”
The cabin lights dimmed further. Jax closed his eyes, but sleep stayed out of reach. Brisbane already felt like a dream fading in daylight. Whatever this thing between them had become for him, it was no longer simple. And he was starting to realize he didn’t want it to be.
He wasn’t going to push. Not yet. But he also wasn’t willing to let her slip back into chasing a ghost without at least fighting for the chance to show her something real.
The jet droned on through the night, carrying them both toward separate cities and the same uncertain future.