Absinthe novel Chapter 33

"Once an asshole, always an asshole," I managed to say. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I sleep with every single man I come across. I have taste, too."

Jiwoo shrugged. "Yeah, and I match your taste, right? That's why I think I have a strong chance with you."

He wasn't wrong—he was exactly my type. But I hated him at that very moment. I felt nothing else for him apart from hatred and annoyance.

I sneered. "Unfortunately for you, I have extremely high standards in men. You seem to tick only one of the many boxes on my list."

"And what's that?"

"You may be my definition of 'attractive,' but I don't date guys based on their looks alone. They need to have a degree from a reputable university." While I spoke, Jiwoo just sat there, smiling in the most irritating way possible. "Then, they need to have a good profession, like being a lawyer or a doctor. And, oh, they should also have at least 7 figures in their bank account."

"I see," Jiwoo said, still smiling. "Why'd you date that Gold-Digging Mofu guy on your phone then?"

Fuck! I'd totally forgotten that he knew about JM. But I was not about to admit defeat!

"I decided to scrap my rules about relationships when I came back here, so I dated someone like him," I said, not breaking eye contact." But look at how that turned out: I got scammed for half a million pesos. That's why I'm never dating anyone less privileged than me ever again."

Rachel came back with our third course for the evening. It had all the appearance of baked Alaska. But why on earth was Chef Maxwell serving us dessert at that point in the dinner? Rachel poured some rose wine on top of the dish before setting it on fire.

I took a bite, and God was I ever so wrong. The inside of the baked Alaska was savory, with hints of sweet ham, garlicky sausage, and the intense flavor of smoked beef enveloped in rich, decadent ice cream.

The ingredients were pretty easy to guess, but Jiwoo beat me to it.

"That's right again, Monsieur Jiwoo. This is our take on baked Alaska, but instead of sweetness, we went for savory flavors."

"Looks like it's my turn again," Jiwoo said smugly, our previous conversation already seemingly forgotten.

"Fine."

"Did you enjoy our kiss back then?"

It was the baked Alaska's turn to shoot out of my mouth. I silently cursed myself for not knowing how to control my emotions. With Jiwoo asking such provoking questions, I was slowly getting defeated.

I took a gulp of water and wiped the crumbs off my plate. Jiwoo chuckled at me teasingly.

"No," I said flatly. The memories of that night flooding back triggered my anger.

"That's not how I remembered it," Jiwoo said. "C'mon, you agreed to answer truthfully, and I won this round fair and square."

I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn't lose to him. He was not worth it.

He smirked with extreme confidence. "If you want me to, I'll do it again so you can properly recall how you reacted."

I took a deep breath before saying, "If the price is cheaper than what you offered me last time, then maybe I will." Jiwoo's smile instantly vanished, so I pressed on. "50,000? I don't think you'd sell for that much. I'd say fucking you is worth around 5,000—max."

Jiwoo kept quiet, but he did not take his eyes off mine. And I did not back down, either.

Gabriel came to clear our table, followed closely by Rachel who served us the prettiest washoku dish I had ever seen. I immediately devoured it in an effort to beat Jiwoo in naming the ingredients.

"This is clearly ootoro, or the fattiest belly portion of the tuna," I said. "There is vermicelli infused with sesame oil and, of course, shaved truffles. This has to be the most expensive dish of the evening!"

Rachel smiled. "You are right, monsieur. The black truffles were imported directly from France. You have correctly named every single element of the dish."

Jiwoo didn't say anything and sipped on his champagne instead.

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

He slowly placed his glass back on the table.

"I told you I was angry."

"What the fuck, Jiwoo? You kissed me in front of everybody and told them you'd be willing to fuck me for money! And you're telling me you did that simply because you were angry?"

He didn't respond.

"You said that for 50,000 a month, you'd fuck me whenever I want. For 50,000 a month, you promised to pretend you love me so I'd feel special. You did all that because you were angry?"

"I'm sorry, BJ. I really am."

"Fuck that!" I couldn't stop myself from standing up. I was so close to leaving and hailing a taxi outside. "You really think I'm that kind of guy, that the only way for me to be in a relationship is to pay for it?"

Jiwoo also got up from his seat. "I don't know what to say except I'm sorry."

"Tell the fucking truth!" I shouted just in time for Gabriel and Rachel to hear it. Gabriel cleared our table, and Rachel served the next dish. I wasn't finished with my burst of anger yet, but I had to show cadence.

"You know what, forget it," I said as I sat back down. "I'm not interested in that anymore. There's got to be no other reason aside from the fact that you're a homophobic asshole."

Jiwoo sat back down, too, and we started eating our food in silence. The dish was rather plain, though: a single huge wonton served with a bamboo straw. Rachel instructed us to pierce the top portion with the straws and sip the soup inside.

The soup was not scalding hot—it was warm and pleasing to the tongue. It was good but not extraordinary.

"This is pork and chicken broth prepared using mirepoix and added to a broth made from lobster shells," I said. "The other ingredients are fresh chives, cilantro, spring onion, toasted garlic, and chili oil."

"Exactamente, monsieur!" Rachel declared with a smile. "Please enjoy."

I took my time in finishing the giant wonton before Jiwoo broke the silence.

"It's called xiao long bao. I knew the answer, too, but it looked like you wanted to ask more questions, so I let it go."

"What have I done to you to deserve that kind of humiliation?" I said before I could stop myself. I did a mental face-palm upon realizing how idiotic I was.

"I'm really sorry, BJ. I didn't mean it."

"See? There's no other way to explain what you did, is there? It was simply all in your nature as a homophobic douchebag."

"You won't believe me even if I tell you the truth."

"You don't get to decide that." I subconsciously raised my voice again.

"Fine," Jiwoo said, also raising his. "You really want to know why?"

"No, I don't want to know why," I replied as sarcastically as I could.

Jiwoo's hands were balled into fists.

I tried my best to imitate Jiwoo's condescending and arrogant tone that night. "Why not, BJ? It's just 50,000. That's nothing to you, right? You always pay for cocks anyway. Why not pay me instead? I'm the hottest guy you could ever get! Plus, I'll make sure to fuck you right so you can get more than your money's worth.

"How much did you pay that JM guy again? My rates are way cheaper! And I'm going to act like a loving boyfriend so you get to know what having one feels like."

Not surprisingly, I still remembered everything Jiwoo had said that night. It's not like I wanted to memorize his words—it was just difficult forgetting something so revolting. Being accused that way was akin to being told that I don't deserve a real relationship and that I'll grow old lonely and alone if I don't pay for love.

Jiwoo was still quiet, but it looked as though he had calmed down after my outburst.

"I like you," he said out of nowhere.

"What?"

"I said I like you. But I didn't understand how I felt back then—"

"Bullshit!"

"—Which was why I reacted poorly. I figured you weren't going to believe me even if I told you the truth."

"How can you be so twisted?" This man was really good at riling me up. "You already humiliated me, and now you're trying to toy with my feelings?"

"I'm sorry."

Rachel and Gabriel came back this time with a trolley. They cleared the table first before placing the next dish in front of us. Oh wait. Dishes.