The Kiss

Chapter 13

(For the rest of the chapters, let's just all pretend that Taehyung is half-Vietnamese.)

When Taehyung walked back into the shop, his mom was watching him with her arms crossed. Through the display window, she had a clear view of Lisa's white Tesla as it backed out of the parking lot. He was certain she'd watched the kiss. That was why he'd made it so short when what he'd really wanted to do was kiss Lisa until her eyes glazed over.

She had his body tied up in so many knots, he could barely see straight, let alone think, and she'd caught him off guard here in the shop. That had to be why he'd accepted her proposal when he'd already convinced himself to do the right thing and turn her down. She hadn't teased him, and she hadn't laughed. Instead, she'd been impressed with his work and with him—the real him. No one wanted the real him. Only Lisa. In that moment of weakness, he'd recklessly tossed his reservations aside. He'd said yes for no other reason than he wanted to be with her.

But now everything was spiralling out of control. Lines were blurring, and he couldn't distinguish his professional life from his personal life. He might not even want to. His mom thought Lisa was his for real, and he liked that way too much for his own comfort. Saying yes had been a giant mistake. He already regretted it and felt how wrong it was, even if he wasn't entirely sure why. But it was too late now. It was just a month. He was a professional. He could handle a month.

"La-lisa," his mom said, like she was testing out the sound of the name.

Taehyung gathered up Lisa's clothes and headed into the work area.

She followed right behind him. "I like her much better than that stripper you dated three years ago."

"She was a dancer." Okay, yeah, she'd also been a stripper. He'd been young, and she'd had an awesome body and all those pole moves.

"That one left her dirty underwear in a cup for me to find when I came over."

Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck. Even after three years of escorting, he still didn't understand the strange power games that happened between women. "I broke up with her."

It had just been about the sex anyway. His dad was a cheater, and rather than commit and hurt people, Taehyung had spent his early twenties keeping things impersonal. To be honest, it had been a lot of fun, and he'd gone a little crazy, pretty much fucking anyone who showed interest. His memories of the time were a rainbow haze of women's underwear.

When disaster hit and he needed money, he'd thought, why not get money for it? In his previous line of work, he'd dealt with lots of wealthy older women who propositioned him from time to time. All he'd had to do was accept. Plus, it was the perfect slap in the face to his dad—the reason for the disaster in the first place.

"That was an expensive car Lisa drove," his mom noted.

Taehyung shrugged, put, Lisa's clothes with the other items that needed to be sent out for dry cleaning, and seated himself at his sewing machine.

In Vietnamese, his mom said, "She really likes you. I can tell these things."

"Who likes him?" Young-ok piped up from her place in front of the TV where she was in the middle of watching Return of the Condor Heroes for the millionth time—the old one starring Andy Lau where the kung-fu-fighting condor was a man in a giant bird suit.

"A customer," his mom answered.

"The one in the grey skirt?"

"You saw her?"

"Mmmm, I had my eye on her from the first second I saw her. She's a good girl. Taetae should marry her."

"I'm right here," Taehyung said. "And I'm not marrying anyone." That wasn't an option when he had to escort. He could still remember all the times when his dad had left during his childhood, the way his mom cried herself to sleep, the way she fell apart but still stayed strong for Taehyung and his sisters and never missed a day of work. Taehyung would never hurt a woman by cheating. Never.