Rewrite the Rules

Goodbye: Part 5

The Nevada sun had climbed to its zenith, casting long shadows across the sidewalk as we exited the diner.

Despite the whirlwind breakfast, filled with Elvis and unexpected confessions, a genuine connection hummed between us. It felt effortless, a shared space where we were simply two people enjoying a delicious meal and each other's company.

As the front door swung shut behind us, Namjoon turned to face me, a smile etching itself across his features.

It wasn't the practiced, idol-perfect smile, but a genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Thank you, honestly. I needed that. Stress has been kicking my butt lately, and this..." he gestured vaguely around us, "this was perfect."

A burst of laughter bubbled up from my chest, a sound both light and genuine. "Should've seen your face when the whole diner erupted in song," I teased, the memory replaying vividly in my mind's eye.

The surprise, the shared joy, the way he'd surrendered to the unexpectedness of it all had added a layer of sweetness to the morning.

On an impulse, I hopped onto a weathered log divider outside the restaurant. Suddenly, I towered over him by a good few inches, the power dynamic shifting ever so slightly. A playful smile tugged at my lips.

"Forgive me?" I asked, my voice laced with mock seriousness.

"Not just yet!" he declared, his voice tinged with playful defiance. Before I could react, his hands shot out, landing on my waist with a jolt that sent a current sizzling through me.

He effortlessly lifted me a few inches off the log, the world momentarily tilting on its axis before he deposited me back beside him. Our eyes locked in a silent conversation, the air thick with sudden tension. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Was he... going to kiss me? But then, just as quickly as it arose, the possibility vanished as he placed me on the ground.

Clearing his throat, Namjoon broke the gaze. "We should probably get going," he suggested, his voice a touch too casual. A pang of disappointment flickered through me, but I quickly pushed it down. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

A beat of comfortable silence stretched between us, the only sound the distant rumble of traffic. The weight of the past hour settled in: the unexpected joy, the shared vulnerability. He'd let his guard down, and a sliver of the man behind the idol persona had peeked through.

His eyes, the same shade of deep brown that seemed to hold a universe of unspoken emotions, met mine. "Right," he agreed, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features. "Though, I did hear you mention having tickets for the first and third shows?"

"Let's just say my vice president has some connections too."

"Connections, huh? Well, consider this a connection made. Give me your last name. I can ensure you get a ticket for the elusive second show. Think of it as a thank you."

"A thank you?" I stammered, surprised.

"Absolutely," he affirmed, his gaze holding mine. "I truly appreciate this time with you. The genuine conversation, the absence of flashing cameras—it's refreshing to be Namjoon for a while, not just RM." His voice softened further. "Please, let me do this for you."

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. Hesitation gave way to reluctant acceptance. "Alright, it's Emma, well no. Emerson Rowan, R-O-W-A-N."

With a satisfied nod, his fingers moved swiftly across the screen as he entered my name. The gesture, simple as it was, felt oddly intimate, a tangible thread weaving between us in the fading light.

Namjoon glanced at his watch, the sterile numbers staring back at him. My heart thumped a little faster. Was this goodbye?

"I've got to get back to the hotel," he said. "We have a press conference, and apparently, wardrobe and makeup."

"Oh, of course. Duty calls." Internally, I debated begging him to stay, but the thought of throwing myself at a K-pop star felt utterly ridiculous.

"Do you want to join me and watch?" He tilted his head, his dark eyes searching mine. A flicker of hope sparked in my chest. Maybe there was a chance...

But then, reality hit. "I'm gonna leave you here," I blurted out before I could overthink it. "I'm pretty sure if I walk down this way, there's a shopping mall I wanted to go to."

"Namjoon," I started, "I just want to say thank you. It was..." I searched for the right word. "Wonderful. It was wonderful getting to know you."

"Thank you, Emma." As he spoke, I noticed a stray strand of hair falling across his forehead. He reached up to brush it back self-consciously, a gesture that made him seem endearingly human.

He extended a hand, his palm warm and dry against mine. He shook my hand.

That was rather strange, a handshake?

"It was truly a pleasure meeting you," he said, his gaze lingering for a beat too long. "Enjoy the shopping, and maybe... well, maybe I'll see you around. Maybe I'll see you at one of our concerts? I hope it's as fantastic as today was."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He winked, a small, secret thing that sent butterflies erupting in my stomach. Then, with a final smile, he turned and melted back into the day, leaving me breathless and yearning for more.

The warmth of his handshake lingered on my palm even after he pulled away. My fingers tingled with the memory of his touch, a strange electricity coursing through me.

"Take care, Namjoon. Break a leg at the concert Thursday."

He flashed a dazzling smile, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin. A wave of disappointment washed over me as he turned and started to jog away.

Suddenly, he stopped and spun around, jogging back toward me. My heart leaped into my throat. Had he forgotten something?

"Emma, Emma!" he called out, his voice carrying over the bustle of the street.

There he was, a little out of breath, an endearingly sheepish grin on his face. "What's up?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me.

"Hi," he said, his cheeks flushed a faint pink. Was it possible he was nervous too?

"Okay, hi."

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit I found strangely endearing. "I feel like an idiot," he blurted out, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips.

"Okay?" I couldn't help but tease him a little.

"I shook your hand," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Seriously, who shakes hands?"

A burst of laughter bubbled up from my chest. The awkwardness of the situation suddenly felt endearing. "Okay, let's say goodbye again," I conceded.

I stood on my tiptoes, closing the distance between us. My heart hammered against my ribs as I leaned in, placed my hands on his shoulders, and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. He flinched slightly in surprise, then tilted his head ever so slightly, as if offering me more.

Pulling away reluctantly, I murmured, "Thank you for breakfast, Namjoon. I appreciate it. Break a leg at the concert. You'll do fantastic."

"See, that is way better," he said with a grin, with something akin to relief. "Don't forget the ticket. Thanks for sharing your breakfast with me. I better run."

With a final lingering look, he turned and jogged down the street, his laughter echoing faintly in the air. I stood there, a goofy grin plastered on my face, until he disappeared around the corner. The scent of his candy apple cologne lingered in the air, a tantalizing reminder of our time together.

The rest of the day, I couldn't shake off the earworm: "Suspicious Minds" playing on a loop in my mind, accompanied by the lingering warmth of his touch and the memory of our unexpected kiss on his cheek.