Love Ties & Korean Skies

10 - Taeho

I haven't felt this flustered in a long time. She's totally on my wavelength and I like it. I like her. Her eyes. Her lips. I can't stop staring at her. And now that I can see more of her in this more relaxed setting, my eyes fall to her bare thighs. She's wearing a simple crop-top and some loose shorts. So much of her is exposed that all I can think about is running my hands over her soft skin.

Jesus, Tae. Reel it in.

I avert my eyes back to her face and her dark hair as it drapes over her shoulders. Without that hoodie she wore on the flight yesterday, I can now see she's quite young—probably mid-twenties. Something else clicks, too. I get who my mom was trying to compare her to earlier. A modern, blue-eyed, Audrey Hepburn. The resemblance is there, and I can't unsee it now. My guess wasn't far off on the flight yesterday: a celebrity undercover. A doppelganger, at least.

When I sit across from her, I try not to get too close. Otherwise, I might get overwhelmed by her again. Her signature perfume of sweet citrus and lychee fills the air and it's making my head spin. It's definitely not helping the tempting fantasies I've been desperately trying to repress. And now that I'm going to be living with this girl for a week, and sharing meals, keeping myself together won't be an easy feat. Especially if we pair wine with our food which seems like the right thing to do after I messed up on the flight yesterday—claiming she was my wife.

I head downstairs to the cellar—which is only accessible from my quarters— and it gives me a moment to escape from her intoxicating scent and clear my head. This is going to be harder, so much harder than I initially thought. Even if I could clear my mind there's another part of my anatomy that's reacting all by itself and I have to breathe deeply to get it under control.

You sure the wine's a good idea? I think.

But without it I'm never going to relax enough to be myself.

I go back upstairs with my best red in hand. As she spots the bottle, her smile says it all. She definitely needs it too. I pull out some stemmed wine glasses from one of the cupboards, pour us each a glass, and sit back at the island.

We eat in comfortable silence until she breaks the ice.

"So, is it true you're getting married?"

I'm not only caught off guard by the question, I'm a little annoyed that she knows this. "Let me guess. Did my mom tell you?" I ask.

"She mentioned that her son is getting married. But I didn't know if she had more than one, or that one of them was actually you. I didn't pry. She talks about you a lot, you know."

"Yeah. It's me. And you're right, she loves to brag," I chuckle.

"Oh... well... congrats." The hesitation in her voice piques my curiosity.

"Well, thanks... I think?" I'm not sure if I'm questioning her underwhelming congratulations or if I'm doubting my own engagement out loud.

"You don't sound too sure," she says and I hate that she can read me like a book.

"Ah, it's nothing. Eliza's great. She's my rock, you know." I say it firmly, trying to convince myself more than her at this point.

It seems she can sense something's off, though.

"I had someone like that once."

"Once?" Now she's definitely piquing my curiosity.

"Mm-hmm."

She doesn't elaborate so I assume she doesn't want to talk about it. But there's no way I'm leaving it there, so I test the waters anyway. "So... not now?"

"No."

Silence descends again, but inside I'm desperate to ask many more follow-up questions like: was she married once? Or did she once have a fiancé like me? What happened?

I know I barely know her but who the hell would let this woman slip away? Or was she the one to run?

I get half an answer from the fact that she's stopped eating and her eyes are tearing up that it's probably not her doing. Now I feel guilty. It's not really my place to pry.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Is all I muster.

"It's ok. I can't seem to get past it. So it's still hard to talk about."

"Ah shit. I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. It's ok. I brought it up. I just..." She takes a moment to wipe her tears. "I have something in my eye." She's trying to cover her embarrassment with a lame joke and it's making my heart hurt for her.

"Did he... leave you?" I ask, hoping I'm not saying the wrong thing.

"Worse. Cheated... on our wedding day."

The chopsticks, full of the rice I was about to eat, pause in front of my opened mouth. My mind won't seem to process this. Did she say her fiancé cheated on her... on their wedding day? Suddenly, I'm filled with a confusing mix of rage and sadness. She seems so sweet that it would take a pretty low-life human to do that to her. Whoever this guy is, I'd love to give him a piece of my mind right now.

"What an asshole." I smile weakly, attempting to hold my anger back.

"Yup." She chugs the rest of her wine in one full gulp. Then she offers to help with the dishes but when I refuse it, she stands. I didn't even realize she was done eating before she gets up and places her hand on my forearm—sending all sorts of goosebumps down my spine. "Thank you for the meal. This... whatever this is called... was really delicious." She then turns to head off to her bedroom.

Surprised by her abrupt exit, I shout back at her, "You're welcome," before she disappears down the hall.

I'm left with the memory of her touch on my forearm and the conversation we just had. A conversation I'm still processing, "I had someone like that once" is definitely not the kind of words I'd expected to come from her.

You should still have someone like that. STILL.

How could anyone cheat on their significant-other on their own damn wedding day? The idea seems so alien to me. Cheating in itself is something so foreign.

I would never do that to you. Ever, I think.

I mean... Eliza. I would never do that to Eliza.

©Sky Mincharo