Chapter 19
chapter nineteen
Denali
When I left the after-party after tonight's music show, I didn't expect to end up where I'm at now. I didn't expect to end up anywhere except in my apartment, my apartment, for a change, relaxing with my cat and enjoying my peace and solitude.
Donghyun was nice, I'll give him that. We hit it off over some jokes and commiserations about finding our place in a strange and ever-changing industry. He came over with one of the other idols from South Korea.
Unfortunately, when he asked me if I wanted to go back to his place, or mine, or get a hotel room and finish out the night, I had to decline.
Not because he wasn't great—he was. But because he wasn't what I was looking for.
When he put his hand on the small of my back at the party, all I could think of was how Kai does that exact same thing when I space out in line for coffee at the little cafe we stop at every day on the way to our first appointment.
When he leaned in to talk to me and his lips brushed the shell of my ear, all I could see in my mind was the way Kai does that exact same thing when we're in a crowded staging room and he needs to talk to me, so we won't be overheard.
And when I stepped out of the car and onto my block, bidding Roger goodbye as I walked into my apartment, a part of me wished that I'd said yes.
Instead, I ended up in my place, standing in the kitchen, feeding my cat in a cocktail dress and heels, an itch under my skin that wouldn't go away.
So I got in my car and drove. First, I stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of champagne on discount, because the thought of spending tonight sober was too much to handle.
I figured I'd go home and drink it all alone, or maybe drive somewhere, park for the night, and get wasted until the sun came up.
There was no plan beyond forgetting how it felt to watch Kai leave with another woman.
I drove for hours, no destination in mind once I realized that home held no appeal.
If I got wasted there, it was more likely that I'd trip over Taco and pass out on the floor.
And there were too many reminders at home—reminders of my life, of my past, and of my bleak future, even working with someone as generous as the company currently employing me.
Eventually, I ended up coming to a stop in front of Kai's building.
I saw the light on in his window. Knew what he was up to still, with her.
I could turn around, go home, pretend none of this happened. I could deny to myself and to him what I was fighting, act like I was never here. But something inside me had had enough.
I was tired of pretending this wasn't where I wanted to be.
I'll just go upstairs, tell him I had a terrible night, ask him if he wants to get drunk with me. It's fine. We can be friends. I can spend a little time with my boss and it not mean anything.
Because it never would mean anything. I'm not the kind of girl guys like this go for. But after the whole drugging situation, we'd gotten closer. And when I'm around him, I feel safe. Safer than I have in a long time.
I didn't expect his one night stand to start laying in to me like she owned the place when we did interact. I certainly didn't expect her to admit he was moaning another woman's name in his sleep while he was lying next to her.
I don't usually have such weird interactions with his paramours. But they can't all be sane.
There were few things in life as comfortable as laying on a cloud.
But Kai's bear fur rug in front of the fireplace that he rarely uses comes close.
Which is why we're currently sprawled on it, him on his back, me on my front, a mostly-empty bottle of champagne between us.
My glass is lying on its side, empty, because we're just passing the bottle back and forth now, and there's not much left in it.
So why waste time on the glass when there's only a swig or two left?
"So," I say with a little giggle, something I don't do often, "she seemed mad."
His eyes catch me out of the corner of his line of sight, and he sighs as he lifts the bottle to his lips and finishes it off.
"Yeah, she was." He doesn't elaborate, instead tipping the bottle upside down as he peers into the neck like he thinks there's some in there still, just hiding from him. "Damn, did we drink it all already?"
I shrug, toeing my heels off with a groan of relief. "Probably. It's been a shit night for both of us." I roll sideways, leaning up to look at him though I don't really need to. "You got any more booze in this place?"
"Oh yeah." He shoves up off the floor, and he's off like a rocket, rummaging through a nearby cabinet that has a fingerprint lock on it. "What do you like? I've got everything."
"Tequila, rum, cinnamon whiskey, wine, I'm not too picky," I say with a flick of my hand, reaching for the TV remote on the nearby end table. "What do you wanna watch?"
"Something dumb that doesn't require a lot of brain cells to follow.
" He's still buried up to the neck in his cabinet of mysteries, and I shrug and turn on the TV, looking for streaming services I'm familiar with.
Unfortunately, the majority of them are Asian streaming channels.
Not that that's a deal breaker—just that I'll need him to translate the menu.
"You take your booze straight or do you want a chaser? "
"Depends on what it is. Most of it goes down just fine on its own."
He holds up a bottle of very expensive-looking wine and grins. "How about some citrus moscato? I've also got a nice riesling in here, or a cabernet, if you're a fan of red."
"Got anything stronger?"
He disappears again and reappears with a bottle that's got a bunch of foreign letters all over it. "Sake?"
"Isn't that like, Japanese wine-ish shit?" I flip through one of the Asian streaming channels, thankful the menu is in English. "What about liquor?"
"My bottle of tequila is mostly empty. I've got some marshmallow rum and a half-full bottle of, like, some weird shit that says Everclear on it—"
"That. Bring that." I know what that is. Everclear is a strong, cheap liquor that's got the affectionate taste of paint thinner, and the strength of thirty cows stampeding at you at full speed. It'll do the job, even if there's only a fifth of it left.
"You want shot glasses, or—"
"You're not contagious, are you? Did that wildcat you just shoved out the door leave you with some sort of STD on your lips?"
He plunks down on the rug again and sits cross-legged, grinning from ear to ear.
"Nope. Not unless her clinic paperwork is forged.
" The bottle of Everclear isn't the only thing he's brought over.
There's the bottle of marshmallow rum, and the wine, too.
The moscato, it looks like. "I figured, we run out of one, we can move to another. "
I take the bottle of Everclear from his grip with one hand and the rum with the other. "Pop the tops for me. The rum is the chaser."
He unscrews the lids and watches in amazement as I take a shot of the worst-tasting alcohol on the planet, next to the cheap, homeless-drunk-man shit they keep on the bottom shelves, that is, and then follow it with a mouthful of flavored rum.
I grimace, because it still sucks, but I get it down, and keep it there.
My hands don't even shake as I hold the bottles out in his direction now, grinning with a wince of my eyebrow and a tic in my cheek. "Your turn, big shot."
His eye twitches when he catches a whiff of the Everclear as he brings it to his mouth. "Oh my fuck, that is strong." He sniffs it again, his lip curling. "I bet it tastes worse than it smells."
"Very much so." But we don't have all night here. "Just do it fast, and it won't suck as bad." It's a lie, but it's a white one, and he's not paying attention to my honesty meter right now. "Or are you a chicken shit?"
"I'm no coward." The bottle hits his lips, and he takes a huge gulp.
I watch the curve of his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and have to remind my vagina that we're not here to fuck our boss.
We're here to drink in solidarity because drinking alone in my car at 4am was too depressing to go through with.
He regrets his hasty action almost immediately. I can see the minute the burn kicks in, because his eyes water, and he gasps, reaching for the rum with shaking hands. When he gets that down as a chaser, his eyes blow wide, and he starts to cough, which slightly tipsy me finds absolutely hilarious.
"How the fuck did you do that?" he wheezes, one hand clutching his throat, the other running through his hair as he tries not to cry. "What the fuck did they put in that first one?"
"Tears of their enemies, the blood of a ghoul, and the soul of a Yaoi Guai." I shrug. "It's not that bad. We used to drink it at high school parties and college ragers because it's cheap and high proof."
He glances at the bottle, and his English reading skills must be good enough to comprehend what it says, because he swears. "Holy shit, this is strong enough to peel the paint off my car."
"Exactly, and it gets you fucked up, too." I reach out for it, and he hands it over without a second thought. Clearly, it's not his cup of tea. "What's the matter, not your speed?"
"You're insane," he mutters, getting back up with a sigh. "I'm getting the sake. At least I like the way it tastes."
"More for me," I say with a shrug. There's no way I'm drinking it all, but hell, if he doesn't want it, then I'll still top off with some of it. "So what was twinkle toes so damn angry about? And whose name do you moan into the sheets while you hump your bed?"
"I don't know, and I'm not telling you shit," he says, huffing as he falls gracefully back to the rug. "I don't hump my bed. I'm not that uncivilized."
"That's what they all say." I clink the bottle of Everclear to his sake jug and grin. "Cheers."
"Uh, sure," he says, tipping his own bottle up and taking a pull from the damn thing.
I watch his throat work for far too long to be comfortable, but since he's not paying attention, he doesn't catch me. Instead, he reaches over and snags the remote from my hand, turning on some kind of historical drama with a couple on the preview.
We get exactly two minutes in before I start asking questions.
"So he's a prince from a faraway land, but he's working as a bodyguard for the princess of his enemy's kingdom."
He nods, taking another sip from his bottle with a grin. "Yeah, pretty much."
I inch closer to him, rolling halfway over as I reach for the bottle of rum, popping the lid as I abandon the paint-thinner-esque alcohol for something sweeter.
"And she's aware of who he is, and his goal, which is to kill her and take revenge for his brother, who didn't actually die, but they all think he did. "
"Correct." Kai lists to the side, grinning stupidly as he pokes me in the forehead with a single finger. "You're following pretty good."
"The subtitles you turned on help." I lean back and drink the last of the rum, hiccuping in the process.
It reminds me that I'm not as young as I used to be, and it also reminds me that I do have a limit.
A limit that I'm pretty close to now. And I'm not interested in spending half the morning hunched over Kai's toilet in suffering. "I should stop while I'm ahead."
"Yeah," he groans, wincing as he jerks his head to the side to look at me.
"I think I might be drunk." Another hiccup, and he looks at the clock with a lopsided grin that makes him look less like the domineering Kai I know from everyday interactions and work, and more like a boyish version of himself still untainted by life and unjaded by the cruelties of it. "Like, I might be drunk drunk."
"Well then," I say with a huff, shoving him sideways onto the rug with a giggle, "lay down and watch some TV with me. We'll sober up and do it again."
"Sounds terrible. I'm in," he says with a grin, pulling me over onto his chest with a grunt of effort. "Now maybe you can tell me what I missed when I went to the bathroom."
I nod and snuggle into his chest, even though it's wrong. Even though I know I shouldn't. Even though I know it'll never happen again and I'll regret it when I sober up.
"Okay, so the princess invited the undercover prince out for drinks, intending to confront him about his plan and stab him, but he was saved last minute by the king calling him to escort him to another kingdom . . . "
His arm falls around me as I talk, and it feels so domestic, so right, that even though I know better, I indulge the fantasies, just for a minute.
I'll deal with the fallout later. Maybe.
Or maybe not.