Chapter 7
Zoe
When I head downstairs on Tuesday morning, Bennett is nowhere to be found. I pour the coffee he made into my beloved llamacorn mug and have a quick breakfast before heading to work.
I return to Bennett’s just after six. He’s not home, as expected.
I eat some of my leftover sanbeiji, then retire to my room and watch a show on my tablet.
He has a large TV in the living room, but I feel weird about using it, especially since he never told me that I could.
But that’s okay. I don’t mind spending lots of time in my room.
I hear him come home around seven thirty. My instinct is to go downstairs, but I don’t. Based on what happened yesterday, I think he needs some time to decompress alone when he returns after work.
It’s not like I’m going to hide from him, though. I can’t imagine barely speaking to someone I’m living with.
And I’m not scared of him.
Yeah, he got annoyed with me yesterday, but he apologized fairly quickly. If it becomes a pattern, that’s different, but I don’t think it will.
No, this is the sort of thing I can easily forgive, and though it might sound ridiculous, I liked the proof that it’s possible to crack his cool exterior. Still, from now on, I’ll try not to make any real conversation with him until after he eats dinner.
When I head downstairs for a snack almost an hour later, Bennett is in the kitchen.
His back is toward me as he washes something in the sink, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows.
I admire the lines of his body. The tailoring of his clothes—Bennett isn’t the sort of man who wears tightish clothes to show off his physique.
Not that I’m thinking about his physique at all.
“Hi!” I say. “How was your day?”
He rinses off a pot, sets it in the dish rack, then shuts off the tap before turning to face me. “Not too bad. And you?”
“The usual, though the apartment search isn’t going well.”
“As I said, November is fine.”
I’m concerned that even November could be tough, though I don’t say it out loud. I’m sure I can find something by then, even if it’s not ideal.
With his right hand, Bennett rolls down his left sleeve, and I’m mesmerized by the deft movement of his fingers. Even if he is—unfortunately—covering up his forearm.
Focus, Zoe.
“I just came down to get a few cookies,” I say, papering over my ogling of his forearms with a smile.
He nods as he rolls down his right sleeve.
I scurry to the counter, open the cupboard, and reach for a small plate. Unlike the mugs, the plates are in a cupboard that I can reach. I’m not close to Bennett, but I’m still very aware of him.
Why is my body doing this? It makes no sense. He’s just Clifton’s older brother.
“By the way.” He clears his throat. “There’s no prohibition on eating in your bedroom, should you wish to do so. As long as you clean up after yourself, I don’t care.”
“Noted.” For some reason, I can’t help adding, “Do you ever eat in your bed, Benny?”
“There’s so much wrong with those words that I don’t even know where to begin.”
“I’m guessing you don’t go by any nicknames?”
“Correct.”
“Is ‘Bennett’ acceptable? Or would you prefer ‘Bennett Chung’? ‘Mr. Chung’?”
His expression is inscrutable.
“My first name—my full first name—is fine,” he says at last.
“All right, Bennett, do you ever eat in your bed?”
“Of course not.”
“Due to the risk of crumbs, I presume.”
“That’s certainly a consideration.”
“Not all foods create crumbs,” I say. “Soft cheese, for example.”
“I do not eat soft cheese in bed.”
I was just trying to tease him, but maybe it was a mistake. Because now I’m picturing him lounging in bed, sleeves pushed up, cheese in hand. To my consternation, it’s a rather erotic image.
“There are many other places to eat in this house,” he says. “No need to do it in bed.”
Oh god. Why does he keep uttering that word?
“Do you ever eat elsewhere in your bedroom?” I ask.
“I only use my bedroom for sleep…and getting dressed.”
And sex?
This really isn’t helping.
“Well,” he amends, “I suppose I occasionally read for a few minutes before turning out the light, but I try not to do extensive reading…in bed.”
The slightest of pauses—was that meant to be a joke? I cock my head and study his expression, but it doesn’t betray even a hint of humor.
I put two cookies on my plate and hurry away from him. I’d planned to eat them in the kitchen, but now I rush upstairs and close the door to the guest room as soon as I step inside. I take a few deep breaths before sitting at the desk.
I miss living with Macy.
The thought pops into my head out of nowhere, and I try to push it aside with a big bite of cookie. I shouldn’t miss someone who betrayed me. I need to look forward, not back.
Except I’m allowing myself to handle things differently this time. I’m allowing myself a bit of revenge, and it’s okay to feel sad. Bitter.
When Macy hooked up with Clifton, did she even think about me? It’s hard to imagine she didn’t care at least a little, after all the years we’ve known each other, but I could be wrong. I rack my brain for any signs that something was up in the past few weeks.
I can’t come up with anything.
Maybe she was really good at hiding it, or maybe I was just clueless.
I try to focus on the best in people, after all, so I suspect my cluelessness was at least part of it.
It feels embarrassing that I didn’t even have an inkling something was going on, but they were the ones who fucked up, not me. I didn’t betray anyone.
I pick up my phone. There’s some activity in the group chat.
Claire: Any thoughts on this weekend? I believe Zoe suggested autumn romances. When Harry Met Sally?
Karina: Personally, I think we should do Hugh Grant’s villain era.
Fiona: you just want to watch Paddington 2
Karina: hahaha. I want to see Heretic.
After everything that went down, I’m really not in the mood for a rom-com, but I’m also not sure I’m in the mood for Heretic.
Me: Let’s skip autumn romances for now. Revenge, maybe?
Claire: Any particular reason for the change? Should we be worried?
Me: I’ll explain on Saturday. But please don’t worry about me.
Fiona: Ooh, we should watch Oldboy. I’ve been meaning to see that one.
Claire: I don’t think I’m ready to watch it again.
Karina: Man on Fire? True Grit? The Beekeeper?
Claire: I’d say John Wick, but I’m pretty sure we watched that within the last year.
Dawn: Yeah, on our Keanu Reeves day.
Dawn: Sorry, I won’t be able to make it this weekend. But don’t watch True Grit. Save that for when I’m here.
Fiona: Lady Vengeance?
Fiona: Maybe The Big Heat, if you want something older.
The debate about movies continues. We usually watch two. I unsuccessfully argue for The Princess Bride, but that’s okay—I can watch it on my own. The conversation is a nice distraction from everything else going on in my life.
But before we start a movie on Saturday, I’ll need to tell everyone what happened.
At 4 p.m., I arrive at Karina Ting’s apartment. I’m the first one here, and I come bearing a box of donuts—we take turns providing treats for our get-togethers.
Karina is wearing black yoga pants and a black T-shirt, which is what she usually wears when we gather at her place. She doesn’t smile when she greets me, which doesn’t bother me. She’s my grumpy friend, and I love her.
“Sorry again about last week,” she says.
“That’s okay,” I say. “You did me a favor, actually. If we’d had drinks, I never would have… Forget it, I’m only telling this story once. I’ll wait until everyone is here.”
Claire arrives a few minutes later with a gym bag—badminton, presumably.
Fiona is the last one to make an appearance, and she looks the most glamorous of the four of us, a gauzy red shirt displaying her assets to good effect. She reaches for a crème br?lée donut before we make our way to Karina’s couch.
If things had gone a little differently, I might have spent last night here. Hm. I take a seat on the left side.
“All right. Spill,” Fiona says to me. “You told us not to worry, but I think we’ve all been worrying.”
I take a deep breath. “Last Friday, I came home to find Macy and Clifton having sex.”
My friends respond with appropriately horrified gasps.
“I hope you broke a nose or two,” Fiona says.
I describe everything that has happened since then. Stealing Clifton’s phone, sleeping on Eddie’s couch, deciding to get my revenge. Moving in with Bennett.
Okay, maybe I skip a few things. For example, I don’t mention asking Benny if he eats soft cheese in bed.
When I finish speaking, everyone continues to stare at me, their mouths all somewhere between slightly parted and wide open in shock. After a few seconds of silence, I decide I can’t stand it anymore.
“Well,” I say cheerfully, “it’s not so bad—”
“If you truly believed that,” Karina says, “you wouldn’t be plotting revenge. Which I wholeheartedly approve of, by the way.”
“Me too.” Fiona licks some custard off her finger.
“I’ll see if I can get any leads on apartments,” Claire says.
“Thank you.”
I’m grateful this friend group is completely separate from Macy.
“What’s Bennett Chung like?” Claire asks. “My grandma says I should marry him.”
“What?” Fiona says. “Does she even know him?”
“Of course not. She just randomly likes telling me that I should marry ‘eligible’ men.”
“He’s, uh.” How do I describe Bennett? “A little starchy and cold, and he clearly thinks my llamacorn mug is offensive, but he’s fine. It’s rather fun to get on his nerves, though I probably shouldn’t do that because he’s kind enough to let me live with him.”
“Is he hot?” Fiona asks.
“I don’t know why that matters,” I say.
“I’ve seen pictures of him,” Claire says, “and—”
“The pictures don’t do him justice,” I interrupt, then regret it.
Though it’s true: if Bennett is bad at one thing, it’s being photogenic.
Karina smirks.
“You should sleep with him,” Fiona says, like it’s no big deal.
But sex is a slightly bigger deal to me than it is to her. She enjoys casual sex and avoids relationships, whereas I’m more of a relationship person.
Besides, this is Bennett. I don’t think he’s interested in me like that, plus I was still sleeping with his brother two weeks ago.
“No,” I say.
“It took you an awful long time to answer,” Fiona remarks, “and you don’t seem all that torn up about Clifton.”
“I’m more angry than heartbroken,” I admit. “Clifton and I had fun together, and I liked spending time with him, but I guess I didn’t really love him.” I’m grateful for that now.
Claire touches my shoulder. “You’ll find someone else.”
“Eventually, yeah.”
Claire is always optimistic about such things. At least, she is for other people. I have my suspicions that when it comes to herself, it’s a different story.
And Karina? She’s more pessimistic, and she hasn’t dated anyone in a while, either.
After watching Lady Vengeance and Man on Fire—and consuming two pizzas between the four of us—I head home on the subway. When I exit the station, I start walking west before realizing what I’m doing.
I don’t live there anymore.
I turn around and head to Bennett’s house, careful to keep my wits about me. It’s not a long walk, and it’s probably a safe area, but it’s almost midnight. Maybe I should have taken an Uber.
As I approach the house, I notice the light is on in the front room. I open the door, take off my jacket, and find Bennett reading in an armchair. Mittens is sleeping on his lap.
“Good evening,” he says. “Did you have fun?”
He says “fun” like it’s a very serious matter, which amuses me.
“Yes,” I say. “We watched revenge movies.”
“Ah. You were doing research.”
“Exactly.” I smile.
Bennett is dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen him before: plaid pajama pants and a dark Henley. There’s something intimate about seeing him like this. He shuts his book and looks at Mittens.
“I guess you’re spending the night in that chair,” I say.
“So it would appear.”
But a moment later, he slides his hands under the sleeping cat. She barely stirs. I wonder if, over the years, he’s perfected the art of moving her. He’s incredibly gentle, which causes a rush of warmth within me.
When Bennett walks toward the doorway, he passes just a few inches from me, and I inhale his clean, soapy scent. I’m foolishly jealous of the attention that Mittens is getting, and I can barely breathe until he starts ascending the stairs.
“Goodnight, Zoe,” he says.
“Goodnight,” I mumble, my feet rooted to the floor.
My head is spinning. Did…did Bennett wait up for me?