Chapter 25
MINJI
“Open the damn door! I brought reinforcements!” Demi yells, banging on my front door.
I fling aside the throw blanket that’s been my comfort cocoon all evening and drag myself off the couch. The stack of briefs I should be reviewing remains untouched on my coffee table.
“Coming!” I call, running fingers through my tangled hair. When I swing open the door, Demi stands there with two bottles of wine, her signature ‘intervention’ amount, and a bag of pastries from my favorite Korean bakery that smell divine.
“You look like hell,” Demi announces, pushing past me into the apartment.
“Hello to you, too,” I greet, closing the door behind her.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She plunks the bottles of wine on the coffee table.
“Good thing I got the goods because you look like you need it for whatever you are about to share with me. Because you will be sharing the tea with me tonight. I went over three weeks without a detailed update on you and lover boy. And texts here and there, wasn’t it, and I was giving you time to adjust to the new life…
aka new dick. Now it’s time for you to spill the tea. ”
“I’ve just been busy with work.”
“I know you can get swamped with work, but this is different. You’ve been ignoring my calls and being real vague via text.
” She turns to face me, hands on her hips.
“And something looks different about you. Like you’ve been fucking.
And it looks like it’s been a thorough fucking at that.
So I was right to give you that space, but now it’s time to spill. ”
I can’t help but laugh as I grab two wine glasses from the kitchen.
“Is it that obvious?” I feel my cheeks flush as I pour our drinks.
“Girl, please.” Demi kicks off her Crocs and curls up on my couch. “You’re practically glowing, and I haven’t seen you smile like that since—” She stops abruptly, tilting her head. “Since college… Our senior year to be exact. So clearly the man picked up where you two left off.”
I hand her the wine glass and sink into the opposite corner of the couch, tucking my feet underneath me. “It’s Aaron.”
“Well, of course it’s him. I love this for you. So, is it just sex, or is this something more? Like are you two giving it a chance? Did you apologize like I told you? Like, really apologize, not that half-ass shit.”
I groan, reaching for the soju bottle. I need something stronger than wine for this conversation.
“Is it crazy to say I don’t know? It started as hell, I don’t know, but now…
” Suddenly, all of this feels like a fever I haven’t sweated out.
“We talk every day. FaceTime every night. He sends me photos of street art and puppies he sees on his morning runs. No one does that in a casual arrangement. I think things changed when I stayed over at his house for a week straight. I like how he is so attentive to me.”
Demi’s eyes widen as she leans in, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Hold the fuck up. You actually packed an overnight bag and camped out at his place? For a week? And I’m just now hearing about this?
” She slaps the couch cushion. “Oh, this is beyond casual. I mean, this would be a situationship, but you two knew each other in the past, so I would say you are like boyfriend-girlfriend?”
“It’s really not a big deal,” I rush out. “We’re just figuring things out. He is not my boyfriend. I don’t think I want him to be just yet.”
“Sure, babes. Whatever you say.” Demi digs into the bakery bag and extracts two plump red bean pastries. She passes one to me, the warmth seeping through my fingertips. “So, is this ‘figuring things out’ anything like that mess with William, or are we in uncharted territory here?”
I bite into the pastry, letting the sweet red bean paste melt on my tongue.
“It’s nothing like William.” I brush crumbs from my lap. “With him, every conversation felt like a courtroom battle. With Aaron… he actually listens. And somehow, taking care of me seems to make him happy. Like really happy.”
“Does that terrify you?”
“Completely.” I let out a shaky laugh. “Although I’m flying out to see him in California, which is insane because I don’t—”
Demi nearly chokes on her pastry. “You’re flying to California?
Now wait a damn minute. Why are you holding out on me?
Are we even besties anymore? You stayed at his place, and now you are flying to see him.
I guess they are right when they say you get good dick, you forget about everything else,” she teases.
“I was going to tell you!” I protest, but she just smirks in a way that tells me I’m hopeless.
“But seriously, the dick must be good.”
“I mean, the dick is great.” There is no point in denying it. “To bad decisions?” I offer, holding up my glass.
“Babes, going to Cali to get dicked down by a man who writes romance novels that sell millions of copies is the very best kind of bad decision, and I support that.” Demi raises her glass to meet mine. “To finally living a little, getting dick down and doing dickmatized things.”
“Now you ready to hear some bullshit?” I set my glass down. Not trusting myself from flinging the glass across the room while talking about Wimpy fucking William.
“More tea? Please spill,” she responds.
“William asked me out to dinner and wanted to reconcile.”
“The fuck he did?!” Her eyes widen to the size of saucers as she slams her glass down on the coffee table. “Oh, hell no. Tell me you laughed in his face. Or punched him. God, I hope you punched that slimy motherfucker.”
“No punching, but I basically told him to fuck off,” I boast, reaching for the soju bottle again. “But it was weird, Demi. Like, suspiciously timed.”
“You think?” She rolls her eyes dramatically.
“The man ignores you for a year, then suddenly wants to ‘reconcile’ right when you’re finally happy with someone else?
Classic William move. Actually, that’s a classic move for any man who knows he fucked over a good woman and doesn’t want her with anyone else. Uh, men are fucking annoying.”
“He said something about Aaron that’s been stuck in my head, though.”
“What did that asshole say?” Her lips turn up in disgust. She’s never liked William, not even when we were together.
“He said that Aaron is just sampling from the buffet—you know, men who write about love for a living can’t help but taste all the options. That he’s just passing through, that I’m flavor of the month.”
Demi flops back against the cushions, glaring at the ceiling as if she can curse William from afar. “He’s projecting. That’s some next-level projection.” She points a ring-adorned finger at me. “And you know it.”
“Do I, though?” I swallow, and the soju stings all the way down. “I know what he’s shown me. But for all I actually know, he could be FaceTiming three other women every night. Or, I don’t know, keeping something from me. That’s the baggage William left me with.”
Demi rolls her eyes. “Look, I get it. If I’d had to fuck the same guy for four years just for him to cheat on me, I’d have trust issues too.
” She leans over and grabs my hand, squeezing it.
“But my psychic senses… It says your man is not playing games. Never met Aaron in person, but his energy is… puppy dog, not wolf. But then again, he could be an animal in bed.” She winks.
“Puppy dogs still chew your shoes and shit on the carpet.” I give her a pointed look. “Aaron is so persistent, sometimes I wonder if it’s real, or just… his thing.”
Demi looks at me, unusually serious. “Does he make you happy?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “It freaks me out how happy, honestly.”
“Then do you. And if he turns out to be a fuckboy in a nice blazer, I have a greenhouse where we can hide his body. Even though he is one of my favorite romance authors… I will kill him for you.” She grins. “But you have to let yourself be happy, Babes.”
I take another gulp. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not, but you’re allowed to be, and if you don’t, I’ll find a way to make you.
” She stretches her arms over her head. “Now, can we please binge some trashy TV and not talk about William anymore? I can already feel my ancestors turning in their graves just from saying his name so many times. It’s like saying ‘Candyman’ three times in the mirror and instead of a Black man it’s a White one with a hideous bow tie and a small dick.
” She shudders, reaching for the remote.
We start Love Behind the Headlines, and by the third episode, we’re both deep into the wine and soju, screaming at the screen whenever someone makes a terrible decision (so, every five minutes).
My phone vibrates on the coffee table, and Demi lunges for it before I can react.
“Aaron,” she reads, her voice taking on a theatrical tone.
“Just met a reader who named her cat after my main character from The Forbidden Boss. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned.
He should be very concerned.” Then, she gets quiet for a few seconds.
“Hold up, girl. Wait, where did he spit?”
I lunge for my phone, but Demi holds it out of reach, scrolling through our conversation, eyes wide.
“Ooooooooooh, that’s where he spits—wait and there too? You’re a freak, and his sexting is very detailed. Freaky, I likey.”
“Give me that!” I finally snatch my phone back, feeling my cheeks burn. “He’s a writer. Aren’t they all like that?”
“No, babes, they are not all like that. This one guy I was dating was an aspiring film writer, and his idea of sexting was texting ‘You coming over to suck my dick again?’” She opens the other bottle of soju.
“Don’t think I missed how he calls you his ‘fiery Athena.’ Does he call you that in the bedroom? ”
“None of your business.” I sink deeper into the couch cushions. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Tell me,” she whines. “And you love it. I can see it all over your face.”
“No, he likes to call me ‘Counselor’ or ‘Honeybee’ during sex.”