26: Not A Sugar Baby & 27: Cooking For A Friend

“Botany?!” Jasmine exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, is that weird? It was really fancy.” Inho replied. He’d arrived a bit early for his shift, and found Nathan and Jasmine behind the bar experimenting with a new espresso machine and taste testing elaborate concoctions. Nathan was thrilled with the new equipment, and Inho joined them to get wired on excessive caffeine.

“I mean, it’s not weird if you’re a baller.” Jasmine announced. “Inho did you just get a sugar daddy?”

“Oh my god, stop,” Inho replied, laughing. “It was amazing though, like the best things I’ve ever eaten.” Inho’s mouth watered remembering it. “Each dish was better than the one before, and the drinks were like: wow! And it was so beautiful inside, like a jungle!”

Jasmine was riveted by his description.

“I’d kill a man to go there,” she said, swiping coffee grounds into the garbage.

Nathan frowned, “It’s not that good.”

They both turned to look at him skeptically.

“What?” He replied, “I’ve been. It’s pretty snooty, and the chef there is an ass.”

“Sure Nate, that’s not jealousy speaking at all,” Jasmine snorted. “So Inho, how was the guy? How was the date with Steeephen?” She dragged his name out obnoxiously.

“It was...really nice,” Inho’s face warmed. “I had a good time.”

“And? Did you guys...?” She nudged him hard on the arm with her elbow.

“God Jas! No! It was just, I dunno. He said we could be friends first. He’s a good person.”

“Friends?” Jasmine scoffed, “I don’t think that’s what either of you really wants.”

“Aw Jasmine, don’t give him a hard time,” Nathan said.

Inho was saved from Jasmine’s judgments by the doorbell ringing with a delivery. Nathan buzzed them up, and after a moment a courier opened the door.

“I have a delivery for Inho Kim,” he said, looking at the tiny envelope attached to a pastel and gold package. Inho walked over, shocked, and accepted the package. The delivery driver thanked him and promptly left.

Inho carried his package over to Jasmine and Nathan. He put the box down on the bartop and opened the envelope, while Jasmine examined the box.

It read:

Inho,

I really enjoyed your company last night.

I hope you haven’t forgotten our agreement?

A friendly tour of the best spots in Vancouver.

Text me,

Stephen

Inho looked at the box. He could see Jasmine was itching to open it.

“That’s Ladurée,” she said. “A French macaron company. Inho, they’re fancy! And expensive! Is it from him?”

“Yeah,” he replied, untying the silk bow that held the box shut. Two dozen macarons sat nestled inside like colorful flowers. He offered them to Nathan and Jasmine before plucking one-up himself. It was Earl Grey flavored according to the little guide that came with them.

“I’ll make us some cappuccinos to go with this,” Nathan said cheerily and returned to his happy bustling at the expresso machine.

“Friends don’t send each other $100 boxes of cookies, Inho,” Jasmine said under her breath.

Inho rolled his eyes and sat on one of the bar stools, pulling out his phone while she sang the words “sugar daddy” loudly into the dining room.

He started texting Stephen, and absently took a bite of his macaron. It exploded in his hand, too delicate to exist once bitten. He scrambled to catch the light cookie pieces and to suck the cream filling from his fingers. Nathan cleared his throat as he deposited a cappuccino in front of Inho and turned hastily away.

Inho took a sip, the typed a message, “Thank you for the cookies,” he wrote. “They’re delicious.”

He drummed his fingers on the bar. His next day off the restaurant wasn’t till Saturday, but Stephen would probably have plans already on Saturday.

“Hey Jas, wanna switch shifts? I’ll take your Saturday and you take my Thursday?”

“Um, of course,” Jas replied immediately, “I hate Saturday shifts. Nate that’s ok right?”

“Sure,” Nathan shrugged, “Make sure you write it on the schedule.

Inho thanked them and went back to his texts.

“I’ve got Thursday free,” he wrote.

“Perfect,” came the response. “I can pick you up after work. We can start with dinner.”

“Guys,” Inho said, looking up, “He wants to do dinner again. Where do I take him?”

“Bring him here so we can check him out,” Nathan answered immediately.

“What? No way!” Jasmine scoffed at Nathan, “What’s your budget Inho? I know you can’t afford Botany.”

“Ah, so money isn’t exactly...good, right now,” Inho glanced shiftily at Nathan, not wanting to make him feel bad. “I had some big expenses come up.”

“Hmm, maybe you should cook for him then,” Jasmine suggested, “It’s super romantic! I bet he’d love it.”

“You think so?” Inho replied, doubtfully.

“I cooked for my wife on one of our first dates,” Nathan chimed in, “She says that’s why she fell in love with me. I made the best carbonara.”

Jasmine pinched her lips in thought, then exclaimed, “Nathan can teach you!” She was excited by her idea.

“I mean sure. If you’d like.” Nathan offered, turning towards Inho with a shrug.

“Well I do kind of like the idea, and I know a few things.” Inho pondered on his limited repertoire of recipes, “But, I think I’d like to make him Korean food.”

“Oooooh that’s cool too. I bet that will impress him,” Jasmine cooed, and Nathan nodded his agreement.

“Okay, thanks, guys. I’ll have to call my mom to check some of the recipes.” He lifted his phone again.

“What if I made you dinner?” He wrote to Stephen. He bit his lip, hoping Stephen wouldn’t think it was weird.

“At your place?” came the reply.

“Yes.” Inho typed back.

“Sure, I’ll bring some wine and...other things we’ll need.” Stephen was replying very quickly.

Inho wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it seemed very polite.

“Okay, I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Inho drained his cappuccino and reached for another macaron. The cooks were starting to drift in. He set a reminder on his phone to call his mom later and went to get changed for his shift

27: Cooking For A Friend

The doorbell rang on Thursday night at 6:30 pm exactly and Inho nearly dropped the knife he was chopping scallions with. He turned the heat on the kimchi stew down to simmer and sprinted to the door to buzz Stephen in. He wished there was a camera on the doorbell or at least that the microphone worked. It seemed to ring randomly at all hours, and he never knew for sure who he was letting into the building. He had a suspicion that one of his neighbors was a small-scale drug dealer though, based on the constant flux of people going in and out and the way someone pressed all the buzzers at once, every now and then.

He gave the soy-braised sesame potatoes a quick stir and raced back to welcome Stephen at the door. Drying his damp hands on his jeans and smoothing his hair, he caught his reflection in the mirror by the door. He scanned his grey t-shirt to make sure he hadn’t gotten it dirty while cooking and tried out a small smile to welcome Stephen. Why was he so nervous? He hosted friends all the time back home.

At a soft knock, he immediately swung the door open. Stephen stood facing away, looking at a cat wandering alone in the hallway. He turned to face Inho.

“Is that your neighbor?” he asked. He was wearing a dark navy suit and a herringbone-patterned overcoat, with a cognac leather duffle bag over his shoulder. As usual, he looked classy and expensive – totally out of place in Inho’s rundown apartment building.

“Uhm, I guess? It’s just Billy the Hallway Cat.” He gestured for Stephen to enter.

Stephen laughed, following Inho in, “Billy? And what is a hallway cat?”

“Oh,” Inho laughed back, “I don’t know, I just named him that. Somebody lets him wander around. He’s cool though; he comes over sometimes.”

Stephen tilted his head, “That’s really...something. But sweet somehow?” He held out a small paper bag by the handles. “This is for you – a housewarming gift.”

Inho took the bag and peered in. Inside, there was a small cactus in a white decorative pot.

“Thank you.” Inho was a little taken aback by the gift. “It’s my first time getting a plant. Usually, people just bring like laundry detergent or juice when they visit.”

“How quaint.” Stephen answered, “I noticed how much you liked the plants at Botany, and I thought you might like this one. It reminded me of you.”

Inho inspected the squat cactus, covered in sharp spines, then looked at Stephen quizzically.

“It’s kind of cute no? Do you not like it?” Stephen asked.

“I do,” Inho replied, “ I will name it Harold.”

“You really like naming things, huh?” Stephen asked, amused. “Why Harold?”

“I don’t know. It just suits him, and I like weird western names.” He shrugged at Stephen’s puzzled expression, “I’m lonely okay.” With that, Inho delicately lifted Harold out of the bag and placed him on the window sill. He guessed the “thing” Stephen said they would need was a cactus. Was he trying to say Inho was too prickly?

Stephen took off his jacket and stared around for where to put it. Inho rushed to take it and hung it in the entryway closet.

“D-d’you want something to drink?” he fumbled, and mentally kicked himself for his nervousness.

“Sure,” Stephen answered, then moved to lean casually against the kitchen counter. “I brought some wine. But, ah, this looks very good. What are you making?”

“Oh, just some simple Korean dishes.” Inho felt his traitor face warm-up, he had been cooking for hours, with his mom on the phone to guide him through. “I hope you like them.”

They made small talk while Inho set the table, and the multi-tasking distracted him from being nervous. Stephen wasn’t familiar with Korean food, and Inho had fun teaching him about each of the side dishes, and what bites paired well together. Stephen was interested and excited about everything, and they sipped little glasses of soju as they ate. Inho was more certain of how much soju he could drink and was determined not to get sloppy in front of Stephen this time. His drunk cheek kiss last time made him feel awkward and thrilled at the same time. What had he been thinking?

They faced each other on either end of the couch now, used dishes piled high in the sink. Stephen had taken off his suit jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up. Inho’s looked at his toned forearms, his eyes tracing the vascularity that encircled around them.

“So, we talked about my family last time,” Inho started, giving himself a little shake, “It’s your turn to talk.”

Looking out the bay window, Stephen hesitated before answering in a clipped tone.

“I’m not close with my family,” he said, “They’re quite...difficult. We haven’t talked in years.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry,” Inho scrambled, worried he’d offended him, “I get it, Jamie’s dad is really terrible too. I’ve been telling her to cut him out for years.”

Stephen replied with a non-committal sound, “Mmhmm.”

“I always thought if he didn’t put so much pressure on her, she’d be so much happier.” he continued, “He really didn’t like me and – one sec.”

The music on the Bluetooth was skipping like crazy. It had been cutting out every few minutes before, but now was in and out unpleasantly. He grabbed the little Bluetooth remote.

“You really love this pop music,” Stephen observed.

“Sorry, is it too loud? I had it on while I was cooking, and kinda forgot.”

“Maybe just a little. Your music tastes are very fast and intense. You were playing this in the car too.”

The car. The car where he’d kissed Stephen on the cheek like a teenager on a first date.

“Yeah,” Inho blushed and looked away. Stephen was looking at him and smiling again.