Ice-heart

Ch- 9 After-meet

Taehyung's pov

"It's hard, you know, to travel so much," Chan-woo says. "It gets lonely to be on the road all the time. And I never really feel like I'm home when I'm home either, you know? But of course you know. You work a lot yourself."

"I do, yes."

He ruffle his hair a little. "I like men who work a lot. Who have ambition. And I'm sure you do."

"I enjoy my work, yes." Watching paint dry would have been more fun than this discussion. For over an hour, Chan-woo had been running the conversation, avoiding all my attempts to talk about something even remotely interesting.

"I read up on you before this. I know you're not supposed to," he says, and bats his eyelashes, "but I'm too honest. I have to confess."

God help me. "And what did you find?"

He leans in across the table. "Well, I knew you were impressive before, but the search confirmed it. Started your own firm at just twenty- two, quickly became one of the biggest names in Seoul. You won the best CEO award. Your father is a developer, too, right?"

"Yes." I scan the restaurant for the waiter. I need to pay this bill and end this.

"Is that why you got into the business?"

"I didn't—"

"Because that's why I love fashion. My maa was a famous model, you know. Very beautiful. People say I look like her, you know like male version but I don't see it." Chan-woo smiles. It looks sickly sweet. "Do you think I do? My mom is Cha-euna."

The name barely rings a bell. "I'm sure the resemblance is striking."

His smile falters, but only slightly. "Let me just tell you how excited I was when you asked me out for dinner."

He had looked vaguely bored when I'd offered. What had brought about this change? The google search of my net worth and history?

"I'm glad you accepted."

Chanwoo shoots me another practiced smile and starts to complain about something so inane that I do my best to tune it out, my features impassive. He's taken pictures of the place, of the food, and of our drinks. At least he didn't try to take a picture with me.

I glance down at my watch. It's half-past nine. Jungkook is out on his date as well. His blind date. It's far too easy to imagine him sitting on a bar-stool, his eyes teasing as he challenges the poor guy he's been paired with. What kind of men does he like? In my mind, the guy he's smiling at shifts from muscly jock to a tall investment banker. Neither feels right. Jungkook's too... he's too much for that. For single-minded men who can't keep up with his intelligence. Or they're hitting if off and he's blushing for him, like he did for me when I asked him about the date. The low lights of the bar setting off his milky-toned skin perfectly.

Chanwoo is still droning on. Just a few months ago he would have been exactly the kind of date I'd enjoy wining, dining, and bedding. A companion for events. He'd know what was expected and anticipated; it was a comfortable sort of arrangement, always unspoken. Enjoyable conversation, if not particularly deep. Both parties aware it's casual.

Now, the thought of spending another hour pretending to be interested in the newest Birkin bag feels like torture, not to mention spending an entire evening with him at the Founders' ball. No, he's not a prospective candidate at all.

It's not hard to picture Jungkook opposite me instead, tonight at Salt. He'd say something outrageous, and I'd get to surprise him right back by not reacting like he'd expect at all.

I finally get eye contact with a waiter. Chan-woo smirks at me when I settle the bill, going out of his way to point out to the waiter that the vegan option he ordered wasn't quite to his satisfaction.