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Kim Taerae has found herself in some sort of predicament.
“Come over this weekend. I’ll cook for us,” Matthew had murmured a few days ago, standing in the door frame of Taerae’s apartment. She’d tucked Taerae’s hair away and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then to her lips.
Taerae had nodded, pulled her closer.
And then, once alone, she’d crumbled and decided that something needed to change.
She’d first met Matthew a few months ago, as the new part-timer at her local PC bang. Albeit a bit awkwardly at first, soon the little chats over fried chicken had turned into late night snack runs after Matthew’s shifts. Then, walks at the Han River and visiting vintage markets and dinners that felt too intimate and… well. You get the gist.
Oh, and the casual sex. Yeah.
That’s also… a thing.
Except the thing about their thing is that Taerae doesn’t want it to be casual.
She’s always prided herself in being able to keep it friendly. But then one night, after Matthew had walked her back to her apartment, they’d ended up kissing and then one thing had led to another and now she’s irrecoverably fucked.
What’s worse is that she instigates, reciprocates, lets it happen. Falls a little deeper every time, too.
But no more. Not after tonight.
Tonight, she’ll confess.
Though now that she’s here, she feels like she’s gonna throw up.
“Jagi,” Matthew calls from the kitchen, pulling Taerae from her reverie. “Food’s ready.”
As they eat, Taerae can’t stop looking at Matthew — beautiful and radiant and lovely. She’s been letting her hair grow lately. Taerae will miss running her fingers through it, once this is over.
They keep conversation light, but Matthew seems to catch on that something is amiss. Perhaps it’s the lack of jokes Taerae makes about her cooking skills. Maybe it’s the jittery hands, or Taerae’s visibly strained posture.
Once their bowls are empty, she tries: “Taerae-ya, are you—”
“I’ll do the dishes!” Taerae interrupts, like an idiot. “Don’t worry about it. Go pick a movie to watch.” She smiles, even though she knows it’s strained. Matthew — a little reluctantly — seems to let her off.
Not for long, though. Hands soapy and wet and occupied, she feels more than she sees Matthew advance. “Are you finished?” There’s strong arms wrapping around her waist, Matthew nosing at the spot behind her ear, then trailing soft and slow kisses down her neck. “I'd like some dessert.”
It doesn’t take much for Taerae to cave in, turn around (and somehow still dry her hands first) and give in. It’s almost second nature, the way Taerae sighs into Matthew’s mouth, opens up for her — pliant, quickly turned to putty. Like Matthew has got her figured out through and through.
Only when Matthew has laid her down on the couch and straddled her, hands prying at the buttons of Taerae’s blouse, does she put some space between them. “Wait… Wait, wait.”
The confused noise Matthew makes is nearly enough to make Taerae throw it all out the window. But she has to do this. Now or never, she’s decided.
“I—” She takes a deep breath. Her lipstick is probably smudged already. Matthew is so close to her. Too close, even. She pushes her backwards for some breathing space. “I have to tell you something.”
“Okay?” Matthew answers, sitting back on her shins.
Taerae notices the words getting stuck in her throat. It must be apparent, because Matthew tentatively reaches out, her thumb caressing Taerae’s cheek. “Tell me, jagiya. I’m listening.”
It’s so fucking sweet, Taerae can barely handle it. She’s so terrified that she’s going to ruin it all. That she’ll split her chest open, her heart Matthew’s for the taking, and that once all is said and done she’ll be left utterly and completely alone.
But Matthew wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t hurt her like this. She’d break Taerae’s heart and sew it back together, if anything.
It’s terrifying, nonetheless.
“I like you, Matt. So much.”
“Okay?” Matthew says, for the second time, even more confused than the first. “I like you too?”
“No.” Taerae shakes her head. “I like you. As in, I have a crush on you.” When Matthew just blankly stares at her, her courage disappears. “Sorry. I’ll go.”
She’s never moved this fast — buttoning herself up again, sliding out from under the cage Matthew had trapped her in. The whole time, Matthew sits in frozen shock.
God, Taerae can’t wait to go home and never fall in love again.
When she’s about to put on her shoes, Matthew’s brain seems to have rebooted. She jumps up swiftly, intercepting Taerae’s escape by pulling her back into her arms. “Wait. Why are you sorry?”
“Because,” Taerae sighs, sheepishly — self-indulgently — burying her face in Matthew’s neck. “I don’t want to ruin this with my feelings.” She spits the last word out like it’s dirty, like it’s shameful.
“Taerae-ya,” Matthew says softly. Then, she laughs; an amused ha-ha that twinkles through the room. Taerae just shrinks further into herself. “What do you think this is?”
The question is odd. So odd that Taerae’s head shoots up. She looks at Matthew, really looks at her, and tries to puzzle the pieces together.
Their gazes meet. And then Matthew kisses her again, sugary sweet.
When they pull apart, she confesses, “Seriously, I thought we’d already been dating. It’s been like 100 days since we first kissed. That’s why I wanted to do something romantic tonight.“
“Is that what we’ve been doing?”
“Yeah.” Matthew eyes her curiously. “Why? Are you scared?”
Taerae blushes all over, embarrassment blazing through her for a different reason now. Matthew patiently waits for her, the way she always does.
“No,” Taerae decides. Means it, too. “It makes me very happy.”
“You make me happy,” Matthew states bluntly, pulling her in. The honesty makes Taerae's heart race.
That night, as she holds onto Matthew, she thinks this predicament might not be so bad.
It’s pretty great, actually.
