Jimin sat in his room, sighing. He was gazing down at Eileen’s picture. He was missing her so badly. But he hadn’t called her. He couldn’t bring himself to. He was afraid that if he heard her voice again, he would board a plane for Paris and leave his obligations behind. How could he start a friendship with her only to leave her lonely every night?
Just then, Tae stuck his head through the doorway. “Jimin, are you still pining for that girl? Why don’t you just call her already?”
Jimin slammed the photo album down on his bed. “Tae! Can’t a guy get some time alone?”
“Here? Living with six other guys? Of course, you can’t get a moment alone!” He paused for a moment before exclaiming, “Stop mooning over Eireen and come get a bite to eat with me.”
Jimin scowled. He didn’t want to eat. He wanted to talk to Eileen. Maybe he should just call her. After all, he had promised he would. But a whole month had gone by. He had broken his word. He’d probably broken her heart as well…
—
Eileen lay in her bed, her head at the foot of the bed, so she could stare for the thirty-first day at the painting of Jimin gracing the wall over the head of her bed. Tonight would mark a month of nights that she had cried herself to sleep. Every night since she’d said goodbye to Jimin. She’d been sleeping upside down in her bed ever since so she could gaze into his stunning, chocolate brown eyes before she turned off the light.
He had broken his word. He had never called her. Never even sent her a single text. She shouldn’t have been so surprised. He had a life. One that didn’t include her. A very busy, completely fulfilling life being adored by millions of girls. Why would he want her? She was just an average miss.
But she’d never gotten to thank him. She was certain he was the one who had paid for her spot in the artist’s district in Montmartre. The artiste who had painted their portrait their last day together had called her a couple of days later to inform her that Eileen had a spot on the hill rent-free for the next year. It had blown her mind.
But as she had watched BTS video after BTS video on YouTube in the following days, she had begun to get a clearer picture of Jimin. He was a total sweetheart. He was an extravagant gift giver. When none of the other boys had been schooled in giving gifts to each other, Jimin had been the one who changed the culture of the entire group. He’d created an atmosphere of gift-giving. Even Jungkook had become proficient at it.
Maybe Jimin hadn’t called because he’d believed she would refuse his extravagant gift. Maybe she would have. But since he hadn’t even texted her, she couldn’t prove it was his doing. And she had to admit that she was relishing every moment at the top of that hill painting. She had already become a sought-after artist in the four weeks since she’d set up her easel on the little mount overlooking Paris. The only sorrow in her life now was the absence of Jimin’s presence.
She had even made friends with several of the artists. They didn’t seem threatened by her gift but instead celebrated her. She smiled to herself as she stared at Jimin’s dark eyes. She had spent only twenty-four hours with him, but he had handed her a completely different life. An amazing one. She would never be the same.
—
Jimin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Still thinking about Eileen. He had hoped that he would forget her. That she would forget him.
He was lying to himself. He didn’t want to forget her. And he certainly didn’t want her to forget him. At best, he’d believed that by leaving her alone, she would move on, find someone else, pursue her art, and live a happy life. Without him. And he had known he would nurse a broken heart for a while. But he could handle that. It would be better than hurting her. However, he had found as those days turned into weeks and became a month, that he just couldn’t get her out of his head. Or his heart. He simply wanted to touch her once more…
He turned on the light and stared at her portrait on his wall. Those emerald eyes followed him every day. He couldn’t escape them. Truth was, he didn’t want to.
He’d given her a month to pursue her dreams. Unencumbered by him or his expectations. Was that long enough? Or was it too long?
