In Good Taste [Part Three]
Title: In Good Taste [Part Three]
Pairing(s): YulTi
Rating/Genre: PG-13 + Language; Coming Out, Girl-Meets-Girl
Disclaimer: I don’t own Soshi. I don’t own anyone, in fact. All Fiction.
Warning(s): Does flirting need a warning?
Author’s Notes: Hope you’re enjoying it so far! Next chapter, we’ll see the world from Tiffany’s POV! Per usual, show some love so I can blab back at y’all lollll
Yuri
--
“I’m going out for my run,” Taekwoon said through a foamy mouth and green toothbrush. “Need me to grab anything from the store?”
Yuri rattled her bowl of Froot Loops. “More milk? I’m using the rest of it.”
He held up a thumb, disappeared into the bathroom, and returned in a black Under Armour shirt and matching shorts. They’d been presents from Yuri on his birthday last year and he wore them faithfully. Their little silver logos faded months ago. “Got it. Milk.” He flipped through the money in his wallet. “Take a nap sometime today.”
Yuri had rolled out of bed alongside Taekwoon at a ripe 7:55am. She’d label herself an early riser through and through, but the anticipation of contacting Tiffany again did wonders. “I will.”
“Cool.” He kissed her again on the lips, eyes smiling. “Who knew my girl could still barhop with the best of them? Guess I’m the old one in this relationship.”
She pressed a folded coupon into his palm. “You’ve acted like a grandpa since I met you.”
“And that’s your type,” he quipped. “Stable and reliable.”
That gave Yuri pause. She gazed longer into his eyes, lost in an existential battle-did the qualities of her attraction cross all genders? Or would she fall for a woman the polar opposite of Taekwoon?
“I like that dreamy face.” He kissed her deeper, catching Yuri off guard. “Should I stay? We could watch some TV, play an app game.”
And postpone reaching out to Tiffany? “No, no. You’re already geared up. Keep that body fit before you start looking like an old man, too.”
He stumbled backward, pretend wounded at the heart. “Ouch. Okay. Take it easy, though. Sleep.”
“Run, milk, go.” She winked, hiding her desperation.
Once Taekwoon strapped his cell phone/pedometer to his arm, pocketed the wallet, and left, Yuri fell back on the bed. She could breathe, finally, without his suffocating lovey perfection. This thought should’ve made her feel like a bitch, but she’d been too stressed about when to message Tiffany to dwell on her own character. If Tiffany clubbed well after she cabbed Yuri out, she surely wouldn’t be awake, right?
Mindlessly, she ran to social media for distraction. And lo and behold, Sooyoung dumped twenty new posts on her Instagram, recalling an unforgettable foray with the rich and famous. She and Taehyung cycled through at least four different clubs that night with that rapper and his entourage. Shots of high-end liquor, dance floor closeups (Taehyung obviously took most of those), saucy selfies, and venue signs. The most striking picture of the bunch was of Sooyoung hugged up on said rapper, a strong-jawed dude wearing a bomber jacket and sunglasses, in what appeared to be the VIP section. She could trick any casual viewer to be his celebrity girlfriend. Yuri frowned, wondering why Sooyoung would sacrifice this access for marriage. Han’s Snapchat stories at a strip club last month brought up that same question.
Without anything more interesting to peruse, Yuri’s patience wore thin. She could send the text message now for Tiffany to read when she woke up. Sort of the point of texting.
Besides, Taekwoon's run gave her only an hour or two.
Thus, she typed and entered:
Yuri: Still alive! 😊my hangover isn’t killing me so you did something right.
Yuri dropped her phone, bummed. Well, that completed Tiffany’s obligation to her. After finishing her cereal, she washed down an aspirin for her headache, and followed her boyfriend’s advice by hugging the fatter of their two pillows. A nap could clear her head like the shower last night. She needed to recharge.
Unless Tiffany messaged her back. Which occurred fifteen minutes later.
The phone had been lying on Yuri’s chest, transmitting a vibration quite literally to her heart. She sprung into sitting position like Frankenstein’s monster, groaning and grappling to read the response.
Tiffany: Good morning! Up already? 😌
A pleased emoji had never made Yuri so…pleased. Yuri: I’m an early bird. it’s in my genes.
She cursed herself for not sprucing that up with a smiling sun or a cup of coffee, but Tiffany answered immediately anyway.
Tiffany: Same! What are you up to on this beautiful Sunday? ☀️
Yuri licked her lips. Yuri: Nm, had some cereal.
Tiffany: Important question: What cereal?
Yuri: Froot Loops 🥣🥄
Tiffany: That’s so unhealthy! 😤😤Proper hangover breakfast, I guess.
Yuri: I eat it every morning...............
Tiffany: 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱Omg NO 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱
Yuri doubled over in laughter, muttering a soft ‘ow’ when her headache reminded her to simmer the hell down. Yuri: Pray tell, what do you eat on hangover mornings?
A minute later, she received a link to an acai bowl dressed with granola, banana, chia seeds, and yogurt. She wasn’t one to go gaga over the health nut stuff, but she had to admit it looked delicious. The cute mental image of Tiffany troubling herself to gather these ingredients all raised the appeal. She typed back, Ok. That’s legit.
Tiffany: It’s fcking magical!✨Do you have a bullet or some sort of blender? It takes 10 minutes to make, I swear!
Yuri: I own neither 😥
Tiffany: Deprived, I tell you. Make an investment?
Yuri and Taekwoon were by nature frugal, though a blender wouldn’t break them. As long as she didn’t take any more cabs soon. Yuri: I’m convinced 👌🏼
Speaking of ten minutes, that exact amount passed before Tiffany buzzed her phone with a response. And thank goodness; Yuri chastised her not-so-conversational last message every second in waiting. And upon reading, Yuri’s stomach pleasantly dropped.
Tiffany: Sorry if this is awkward, but can we continue this convo on the phone…with our voices?📱📞I’m old-fashioned that way. Lol
She would’ve used smoke signals if Tiffany asked. Yuri: I don’t mind. 😅
Seconds later, her cell rang. Yuri almost wished she’d loaned herself a minute to prepare her heart for the husky fantasy that was Tiffany Hwang’s voice over the phone.
“Are you sure you don’t mind talking?” Tiffany sounded unsure and sexy alike. “Nobody wants to talk anymore.”
Yuri slowly recovered. “N-no, this is cool. This is good.”
“This is cool. This is good,” Tiffany micmicked. “You hate it!”
“I don’t!”
“You’re not fooling me, but I’ll drop it.”
Yuri grumbled awkwardly, causing Tiffany’s attractively uninhibited laugh to tickle her ears. “Fine.”
“So, last night.” Tiffany shuffled a bit. “About the woman making you put your hands on her?”
Oh, shit. Not this. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Seemed like a big deal last night. You were distraught.”
“That’s…not the full reason.”
“Tell me what happened? Please?”
God, that slightly whiny voice could manipulate every cent from Yuri’s savings. “She um,” The memories swept through her faculties like a wave, full of highs and lows. “bought me a drink. I joined her little posse and we hit it off. She flirted, I flirted. And drank…a lot.”
“Mmhm.”
“We danced, and it got hot and heavy fast. Afterward, we stepped into the hall-where you found me-to make out and um, yeah. She expected me to take her right there, in front of everyone.”
“God, exhibitionists...”
“I told her I wasn’t sure and she didn’t take me seriously since I’d given off some sex fiend impression?” Yuri shook her head, disappointed in herself. “I led her on, then abruptly refused and it pissed her off.”
“You poor thing. How far did it go, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Hand in her shorts. Just down to her pubis.” She rubbed the back of her neck; she’d been sweating. Less so for recalling the incident, but for speaking this candidly to a stranger.
Tiffany took another sec to reply. “Is this talk helping at all? Or am I triggering you?”
“No, not triggering. Thank you for asking.”
“Be careful out there. Women are capable of taking advantage, too.”
“I thought I was in control…then, I lost my nerve.”
“And that’s okay, Yuri. Don’t beat yourself up. From what little I know, I can tell you have a tender soul. It’s immutable and rare.”
How did Yuri deserve this self-help Ted Talk? She hugged the pillow to her chest, letting her feelings flow out without a buffer. “I don’t know you and that means everything to me.”
Tiffany’s sigh resembled a purr. “I hate clubbing, actually. Taking care of you fulfilled me more than getting shoved into all night; so, thank you.”
“No, thank you. And that angry friend of yours. Sorry I ruined her time.”
“Don’t feel bad for Yoona; when she doesn’t get her way, she’s temperamental with everyone. Even drunk strangers.”
“Is sh-she uh,” Yuri stumbled through because she knew nothing about lesbians outside of the internet. “Are you and Yoona…involved?”
“Are you asking if she’s my girlfriend?” Tiffany sounded amused. “Or are you asking if I’m gay?”
“Um, both?”
“Yoona and I are strictly platonic. And I’ve exclusively dated within my gender since my fourteenth birthday.”
Fourteen?! Yuri rushed to her feet, wracked with impressed outrage. How did she fucking know since she’d been an adolescent? What wonder child even came to those conclusions so soon, undeterred by society’s wagging finger of disapproval? How did she know herself so well so early? How?! She schooled her breathing as she paced to her dresser crowned with laundered clothes. “Fourteen is young. I’m jealous.”
“Not as young as a couple of my friends when they knew. Also, to answer your unasked question-” Tiffany’s grin could be heard over the line. “I’m very, very single.”
And there went the last of Yuri’s oxygen. Instead of clipping coupons through these feelings, she plugged in an iron. “Single. Cool. I’m uh, glad.”
Tiffany laughed even louder, sounding far away so she could cackle off the receiver. “My god, you’re sweeter than that sugary rubbish you eat for breakfast.”
“Again with the Froot Loops slander?”
“You should be beautiful both inside and out.” Her tone lowered in a matter of moments. “You’re only halfway there.”
“Oh, shit.” Wait…oh, shit. Yuri spoke her mind by accident. She reeled, slamming her work shirt onto the ironing board. “I…I don’t…”
Tiffany cut Yuri off, betraying her own nerves. “No, I’m sorry. After what you went through with that lady at the club and whatever other issues, I shouldn’t talk this way. It’s wrong.”
“No, no, no, no, no, no, please don’t feel bad.” She’d been flirting with someone who wasn’t a demanding, pretentious psycho. It should be celebrated as a holiday for years to come. “I’m not traumatized. It’s…it’s that I’m not used to those compliments from such a-” Think, think, think. “glorious being.”
Again, Tiffany’s laughter stole many seconds from their conversation. She collected herself, straightening her throat audibly. “What are you doing right now?”
“Ironing. You?”
“Lying in bed, talking to you.”
New feelings rushed through Yuri: What color were Tiffany’s sheets? Was her long hair scattered sleepily over her pillow? Did she wake up as perfectly as she appeared last night? Did she wear conservative PJs or something skimpy and revealing? She set the iron down to recuperate. “I um, have your undivided attention.”
“What’re you ironing?”
Thank god. Easy questions again. “Work clothes.”
“Monday’s right around the corner, isn’t it?” Tiffany hummed a sad tune. “What do you do?”
“Retail.”
“Ah. Me, too.”
Yuri danced in place. They had more in common; Tiffany wasn’t astronomically out of her league. “My people.”
“When’s your shift tomorrow?”
Steam rose from the flattened crease of Yuri’s black slacks. “I close tomorrow, so about 3pm.”
“I’m in at 7am.”
“Jesus, your job is no joke.”
“Not at all…um,” Tiffany took a deep breath; Yuri braced herself. “I’d like to see you again. Under less hectic circumstances.”
Why was her apartment suddenly a hundred degrees hotter? “Yeah, that’d be better.”
“Do you work in the city?”
“I do.”
“Would you be up for lunch? It’s within walking distance of my job. Un…unless you have a different restaurant in mind.”
Restaurant. Yuri counted how much ‘fun money’ she could spend on a weekday. “Your idea, your choice.”
“Great. I’ll text you the address to my store. We’ll meet there and walk together.”
“Sounds like…” A date. A date with a gorgeous woman. “a plan, Tiffany.”
“Yay. So, I’m going to get out of your hair and leave the rest of your morning to you. Thanks for obliging to my old-fashioned ways.”
“I like you in my hair.”
Now, Yuri said that with the intention to hear Tiffany laugh again. She wasn’t disappointed. “Yuri, be careful or I’ll start to like you.”
“Oh, um,” If only her life weren’t so complicated. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll see me tomorrow at noon.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”
“Later, Yuri.”
“B-bye, Tiffany.”
Iron pushed aside to cool, Yuri floated backwards until she hit the bed and flopped onto her back. Her hands smoothed into the dips of sheets, imagining Tiffany at her side. On the same bed. She was giddy, elated that this thing with Tiffany could turn into a wonderful…friendship?
Yuri batted her eyes closed, ignoring her commitment and responsibilities. If Sooyoung and her fiancé played and field without breaking their monogamy, couldn’t she do the same? To test out this identity before prematurely tossing her and Taek’s bond into a heap beyond repair?
When she woke up, Taekwoon lay at her side, cheek on hand and beaming. He’d peeled off his shirt and though he was objectively the pinnacle of all things attractive in a male, this sight didn’t echo anything special between her legs. Not like Tiffany’s voice and her forward flirting and the thought of her alone in bed and…
“You seem…excited.” Taekwoon murmured, nodding down to Yuri’s chest.
Through her shirt, her nipples stood on end. Perky and responsive. And sensitive. Shit, she should’ve woken up sooner and rubbed this rampant desire away, before her man returned from his run.
“A dream,” she lied. “Felt a little too real.”
“About me?”
“Mm. Maybe.”
“Well,” he waved over himself. “I’m here. In the flesh.”
For the millionth time, Yuri closed her eyes and tried to want his body. Tried to transfer this arousal for a woman she just met to the man who’d loved her unconditionally for years. His lips pressed into her neck, but all she could think of were Pink Halter’s lips, which had been more sensual, hungry.
Yuri kept her tears at bay. “I’m still queasy from this hangover.”
Taekwoon nearly jumped off. “Oh, man. I wasn’t implying anything. I just wanted to be close and I interrupted your nap. Sorry. I’m-uh, sorry.”
“Relax, Taek. It’s fine.”
“I’m mindless when it comes to you.”
She placed gentle, careful kisses to his cheek, then his lips. “Go take a shower. When I wake up, we can order out.”
“My kind of Sunday.” His long legs drew him out the bed and to the closet. He picked out underwear and jean shorts Yuri bought him ages ago. So humble, not flashy. Exactly what charmed her into calling herself his girlfriend.
He shyly smiled her way as he closed himself into the bathroom. She swore Taekwoon mumbled a final ‘sorry’ just as the door clicked closed.
They were a household of over-apologizing. Until now, on Yuri’s part.
Yuri waited until the shower sounded to throw an arm over her eyes and cry.
…
Craftie’s Warehouse could use a uniform upgrade.
Kwon Yuri wasn’t one to spend hours upon hours curating the ideal outfit or caring about trends in general. But, as she stared out the bus window that Monday afternoon, watching the affordable, run-of-the-mill outlets change into department stores and then specialty shops, her quality of dress came into question. Even the patrons with daylight and money to burn glowed brighter and stood taller than the customers she dealt with every day. The ones hassling her about 35 percent off loft yarn rather than 30.
As she decided whether to keep her magenta Craftie’s polo tucked or untucked, she recalled her anxiety outside the gay club. How come once she attempted to embrace her innate nature, her appearance clambered into the forefront? Yuri oscillated between budgeted princess and extreme casual, no specific taste of her own. Just whatever relatively fit her body and-more importantly-whatever was on sale.
Anxious to reconnect, she walked (never mind, she skipped) jauntily from the bus stop, picturing Tiffany in a dorky outfit, too. Or worse: these gems probably made her get dolled up all the time.
Yuri glanced down at her map app, then up to THY, her destination. A chic, modern boutique. Considering this prime location and the marble window mannequins in high-end apparel, it’d be safe to assume the latter for Tiffany’s workplace garb. Ugh, poor lady. With a calming breath, she entered.
The disparity of the fashion inside and her bland, pedestrian uniform quite frankly, staggered her. Even the glossy hardwood floor below seemed too good for her black Sauconnys.
A bell jingled over the door and Yuri wished it hadn’t. At the sound, a college-aged chick with the skinniest nose she’d ever seen glimpsed up from her magazine on the checkout counter. Her long, strawberry blonde hair had fallen over one eye, but her expression was unmistakable: Yuri was bad for business.
Yuri unclamped her mouth to greet her, then it snapped shut when the girl went back to reading.
Left to herself, Yuri wandered to blend in with the shoppers milling about, absorbing the displays of clothing-arranged in some vague color-coded order-hanging from uniquely designed hangers and wall motifs. One of those stores containing just enough stuff for a person to know whether their purse could handle it once they walked in. Yuri cringed at a nearby tag, holding her non-brand handbag close. It could not handle the prices.
Situated around the shop were many asymmetrically-cut mirrors, three fitting stations curtained by silver fabric, and three more fitting stations in the back, only they were surrounded by a wall-length mirror and raised on well-lit platforms. Open, for anyone to see. Yoona (couldn’t forget that person if she tried) occupied one of them, measuring the hemline of some skeletal client. Yoona met Yuri’s eyes for half a second, then resumed the fitting undeterred. Clearly, everyone here received similar customer service training. Or, none of it.
An antique wall clock read 11:49am. Being early backfired on her.
After pretending to browse (really just checking for the most exorbitant price), Yuri approached the girl at the register. The less scary of the two options.
“Hey,” Yuri mumbled, drumming her fingers on the counter.
Comically, on the wall behind the register was a framed staff photo of the cashier boasting a two-million-dollar smile. It read ‘Sinbi’ and when Yuri got no reply, that’s what she called her. “Sinbi, is it?”
Sinbi peered. Up and down Yuri’s attire. Dead behind the eyes. “We have no public bathrooms here, sorry.”
How did ‘sorry’ ever sound more like ‘fuck you’? She regrouped. “Ah, actually, I’m here for Tiffany.”
“She’s booked up today. Please go on our website or app-” Sinbi waved to a rather large sign saying so, as if Yuri were an imbecile. “And request an appointment and we’ll call you.”
“I’m…I’m not here for-”
“Hohhhh my god,” she griped, rolling her eyes like she’d won trophies for it. “Yoong!”
“What now?!” Yoona called from her post.
“This lady keeps asking for Fany and like, I don’t know how to help her.”
Curious customer eyes skimmed Yuri's blushing face, then her outfit. Again with the judgement.
“My hands are tied here, Sinbi,” Yoona said, leisurely unspooling measuring tape from her wrist. “Go fetch her yourself.”
That shot a glimmer of hope through Yuri until three shoppers formed a line behind her. With Herculean effort, Sinbi tapped two sign-in keys on the touchscreen register, whining, “I'm way swamped now.”
“It’s cool, I’ll-I’ll…” Yuri backed away to let a 6-foot woman in a jumpsuit take her place. “I’ll wait.”
Where could Tiffany be? At least Yuri knew she worked there; she wasn’t being stood up. That earned her the confidence-aka stupidity- to say, “Hi, Yoona.”
This platform gave the lanky woman stature to literally look down on Yuri. “I’ll text Fany. She gets lost in her duties, so…”
Why hadn’t Yuri thought of that first? She grinned sheepishly in thanks. Maybe Yoona wasn’t so bad.
If you didn’t include her whispering to the skeletal client mid-text. They both glanced down at Yuri for a tic and commenced to giggle.
Damn.
In twenty seconds flat, Tiffany burst from the closed-off employees’ section, radiant and frazzled. “Yuri, you’re early! How long have you been out here?”
“Not long,” Yuri mumbled. By now, she felt like a needy pest or little sister who’d shown up unannounced. “If…if you’re too busy-”
Tiffany’s gaze softened. “Don’t be crazy. A new shipment and I were battling to the death.”
Equal ground again. Bless. “I know that feeling.”
“I’ll grab my bag and we’ll be on our way, okay?” She trotted in the opposite direction, smiling through her fluster. “Don’t run out on me!"
“Never.”
Yuri rubbed a hand over her face. God, Tiffany was hotter than she remembered. In a breezy, teeny dress from presumably this store, how could Yuri keep up? What had she gotten herself into?
Gazing anywhere but at another person, she found herself in a mirror. For fuck’s sake, she wore a ponytail!? As she yanked the hair tie out and fluffed her hair a bit, Tiffany reappeared. She’d thrown on a cashmere sweater for the windy weather and it looked so well-put together. Whenever Yuri grabbed a last-minute accessory, it hardly ever matched.
“Aw, you took your ponytail out?” Tiffany asked at once. Of course she’d notice; the MO of anyone here was to notice these things.
“Yeah it…” Yuri shrugged, coloring, “pinched my head so…”
“It was nice to see your neck-you have a lovely, long neck,” Tiffany gestured to her own. “But, I’ll never get tired of your hair. It’s perfect.”
“Um, thanks.”
“Did you get to talk to Yoona?” At that, Yoona gazed from her task. Tiffany went on, “Yoong, I hope you greeted her properly. She looks so much better now!”
Yoona bobbed her eyebrows in a ‘yeah right’ fashion. “Sure, Jan.”
Tiffany scoffed, turning to smile at Yuri. “I’m starving, are you?”
“Kinda, yeah.”
“Then, let me feed you.” She moved like she was going to grab Yuri’s hand, then judged against it. “Follow me.”
Tiffany was apparently nervous, too. To meet Yuri of all people. The awful work attire didn’t repel her after all. Yuri nodded at her reflection, exiting for her lunch date.
…
“Your coworkers are…nice,” Yuri muttered, unfolding a cloth napkin to her lap.
Tiffany laughed as loudly as she did on the phone. “Yoona’s still miffed about the vomit thing. And Sinbi isn’t my fault. She and Yoona used to fool around and now that they don’t hook up anymore, we’re sort of stuck with her.”
Wow. Discussing women having friends-with-benefits style (lesbian!) sex like it’s no big deal. Yuri shook her head, mystified. “Mixing business with pleasure. No good.”
“Preaching to the choir.”
“Why doesn’t your boss fire her?”
Instantly deep in thought, Tiffany stared down at her menu, biting her lip. “Does anything stand out to you?”
“Um, yeah. The prices, mostly.” Yuri flipped through, then back to the first page, blanching. “What bozo would pay for sparkling lemon water? It’s literally lemon and water-cents-worth.”
Tiffany smirked, pouring from the bottle of mineral water placed on their table. “You’re funny.”
Unable to stop herself, she grumbled, “Seriously. How can they expect us to afford eating in this area more than-I don’t know-once a month? And those prices in THY. Jesus, I hope you get a discount.”
“To be candid,” Tiffany cleared her throat, smile strained. “I own THY.”
Thus, began the longest,
most awkward
silence
Yuri had ever endured.
Tears condensed in Yuri’s half-mast eyes. Every insecurity from earlier flooded back with the same sentiment: ’You don’t belong. Tiffany’s too good for you.’ The only things keeping her afloat were her chair and the menu shivering within her clenched hands. Were there words for an embarrassment so intense, it became debilitating? Twice, the server dropped by for their order and Tiffany asked for more time.
Tiffany scooted her seat closer to Yuri, touching their elbows. “Um, I actually co-own.”
As if that softened the blow. Yuri nodded hollowly.
“Yoona’s a lead stylist. And-and Hyoyeon is the other owner.” Her rambling continued while she stroked Yuri’s forearm. Lightly, soft as a warm breeze. “Hyo and I’ve been tight since college and though she’s not the most conventional dresser, she’s business savvy and has good energy.”
THY= Tiffany, Hyoyeon, Yoona. Yuri could die on the spot.
If Yoona and a bored cashier turned their noses up at unfashionable strangers, then what would Tiffany do once Yuri’s financial status sank in? Birds of a feather bitch together, as Sooyoung tended to say. Yuri should’ve been swooning from her touch. Instead, she wished for the day to be completely over already. Back to the familiarity of her home, the ease of Taekwoon.
“Whenever we meet, you’re crying,” Tiffany managed in a stiff joke, lifting the cloth napkin from her lap to dry Yuri’s cheeks. “Do you like pork?”
Was she kidding? Yuri nodded again.
“Then,” she slipped the menu from the death grip and tossed it aside, which prompted the server to dash over, grinning pearly whites. “We’ll have two frisée salads, please.”
“Wonderful choice.”
From the corner of her eye, Yuri noted Tiffany’s naturally bright smile send the young waiter off. He was probably in love with her already; this happened all the time, she was sure of it. Her heart couldn’t have plunged lower.
“I chose the place; therefore, I’ll foot the bill,” Tiffany's squeeze sent goosebumps up Yuri’s arm. “Next time we’re out, you’ll pick.”
“There will be a next time?”
“Why wouldn’t there be?”
“‘Cause I’m…” She studied her nails-neither manicured nor painted. Uninteresting. “a sales associate.”
Tiffany sat up, grinning slightly. “Are you a good one?”
“What?”
“Do you put 110% effort into your day-to-day? It’s very important to me.”
“I guess I do,” Yuri said before a self-conscious shrug. “Being named ‘Employee of the Month’ doesn’t surprise me anymore.”
“So, you’re gorgeous and a diligent worker? I only surround myself with people like that. Well, people like that and Sinbi.”
A heat Yuri hadn’t felt since Taekwoon first asked her out settled around her neck. She gulped from her water to squelch it…along with hiding her smile. “So, salad for lunch?”
“Not any salad, my dear,” Tiffany laced her own fingers beneath her chin, looking way more alluring than she likely realized. “It’s their signature frisée-lardon salad. Frisée is like a cute, curly baby lettuce. It comes with in-house bacon bits, poached egg, and a killer vinaigrette.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, and this place adds sautéed mushrooms and it’s divine. It’s my go-to for spring eating.”
She blushed and sipped on her water. ‘Go-to’ implied frequency. Yuri had insulted one of Tiffany’s favorite restaurants. Could this lunch get any worse? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I know it’s steep.”
They made small talk about the weather until their server returned with two plates of light green shrubs. Seemed delicious nonetheless. Notably the colorful, savory toppings. “Oh, this is different.”
“Not an adventurous eater, I gather?” Tiffany allowed the mooning waiter to grind fresh pepper onto her dish.
Yuri denied the pepper. “No, I’m afraid not.”
“My friends and I often keep an eye out for the next big thing. An interesting one was this pop-up where you could breathe in the alcohol-neat, yet I prefer sitting and sipping.” She held a fork to the side of her meal, waiting for Yuri to slice into the egg. “Bon appétit!”
In turn, Yuri shoveled a forkful of lettuce, bacon, and egg into her mouth, trying to ignore how intently Tiffany watched. The small squares of bacon added both a sweet and salty flavor while the crunchy frisée balanced out the freshness and texture. And one can’t go wrong with poached eggs, so Yuri murmured onto the fork, “This is amazeballs.”
Tiffany giggled and deflated, as if she’d been holding her breath. “I really wanted you to love it.”
“Why?”
“So, we can get it again together. Someday.”
Yuri almost choked, but she pulled through. “I don’t know how to top this.”
“Nobody needs to outdo the other. The company is the best part.”
Tiffany’s lashes were long and curled, less dusted with color than at the club. Profile distinct but not copiously so. Lips naturally plump, though cosmetics Yuri couldn’t afford possibly facilitated that. And her hair probably took hours to curl, blow out, and set in its ample, soft appearance. A light, husky voice. And she smelled…so magnificent, but not overpowering. A dream incarnate. Yuri fought off the dissenters in her head to mumble, “True.”
Visibly less tense, Tiffany drizzled vinaigrette over her meal and pushed the rest to Yuri. “Tell me about Craftie’s Warehouse.”
“Oh, it’s…” Not at all as impressive as THY. “a job. Flexible and sharable hours, benefits, the usual. My best friend, Sooyoung, keeps it bearable.”
“That sounds nice.”
Yuri tried not to feel condescended to. “You own your own business, then?”
“Co-own,” Tiffany emphasized, gazing down at her salad, fidgeting. “It was a struggle at first, as all things seem to be. My partner-um, business partner…” She smirked wryly. “Kim Hyoyeon. She stays on top of all upcoming trends and even creates her own, and that's usually a blast. Mostly in charge of compensation, money, etc. THY does general retail, measurements, fittings, small events, personal shopping, and more. When I’m not roasting in paperwork hell, I perform some in-person consultations.”
“You get paid to play dress-up?”
“In a way, yes. I’ve never outgrown that.” She swallowed a mouthful, pride glowing from her face. “We have an app, too! We recruit friends who’d like some extra cash to do consultations.”
Yuri markedly tugged at the collar of her magenta polo. “I’d wager I’m a fashion disaster.”
“You wear a uniform. Don’t be unfair to yourself.”
“I’m surprised you even tolerate being seen with me.”
Tiffany set her fork down with a light clink. Then, she moved her chair even closer, which raised the temperature to ‘Oh Shit’ hot. “Yuri, may I compromise my comfort to be honest?”
“Um, ‘kay.”
“I’ve helped intoxicated women before. At clubs, bars, concerts…” She met Yuri’s eyes in a rush of dark, velvety, warmth. Tiffany was so warm. “Yoona hates it, but it’s what I do. And not on one of those occasions have I taken the conversation beyond an ‘I’m alive’ text. But, but, you…”
Yuri blindly grasped for her water. Needing it.
“To be up-front, I’m not a stranger to dating. I’m open.”
That statement should’ve spiked the insecurities. Instead, they relieved Yuri on an odd plane. If Tiffany’s been out with a bunch of girls prior, she herself couldn’t be that much of a fluke. Women like Tiffany knew what they wanted. After tasting her water in a slow sip, she gripped herself to ask, “Tiffany Hwang, are you a heartbreaker?”
“I’ve been called that.” Tiffany’s hand transversed the short space, grazing atop Yuri’s on her glass. “And yet, I have a sneaking suspicion that you could be one, too.”
Oh, fuck. The voice, the tenderness, the hair-raising touch. Yuri was aroused. Without fear of her autonomy or overpriced cocktails. Just pure desire for a woman she’d met at her worst. A woman. “No-one’s ever said that to me before.”
“Go out with me again?”
“You haven’t seen enough of me in this polo?”
“Not even close. How about this evening? After your shift ends?”
“Hm? Um, I’m…” She and Taekwoon planned to meet at the grocery store for some shopping. The knowledge doused whatever fire that’d been stoked minutes prior. “Busy.”
“You make the date, then.”
Date. “T-tomorrow night? Since you just have to see me again.”
Embarrassed, Tiffany started to pull her hand away, but Yuri latched on. She didn’t want that feeling to fizzle to nothing. “Any time.”
“I get out at eight, so…” Yuri glanced at their hands; pointer fingers only shyly interlocked. “Sorry I assumed your job was as crappy as mine.”
Tiffany’s brows dented. “Don’t say that. My success isn’t the most common thing. Often, I feel older than a lot of my peers. It’s…” She sighed, hailing the server for a check. “Please get to know me first. I know we just met-”
“I’d love that.”
Blushing, Tiffany reclaimed her hand to slip a well-worn credit card into the leather bill folder. Yuri’s own fingers burned, buzzed, tingled with the desire to do something out-of-character. However, going on this lunch date, tip-toeing the line from sexual acceptance to an affair, enticed her hands to ball into her pants pockets. There, they’d keep her from trouble. From rushing the inevitable.
…
Once they pulled up to Craftie’s Warehouse in Tiffany’s car, Yuri offered gas money for the fourth time.
“Absolutely not. Your presence enough is payment.” Tiffany raked slender fingers through her hair, leering at her passenger in a way probably meant to be joking, but soon turned too real.
Yuri laughed all the same. To alleviate the tension that’d rebuilt itself during the ride. “Have you seen you?”
“Once or twice.” She grinned, teasing her bottom lip with her teeth. “What matters is that you see me.”
“Ugh, is that a line? You’re too suave for me.”
Tiffany slapped Yuri’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “Am not!”
That slap even did things. God, too bad her current sex situation wouldn’t ease this ache. “Are you certain you’re thirty? You hit like a baby.”
“Revealing your kinks already?” Shiny red nails swished over Tiffany’s mischievous omg-face. “How hard to do you like it, pray tell?”
Blindsided by the sexual talk, Yuri babbled, “I didn’t-I don’t, uh, like-”
“Tongue-tied?”
“I uh, I am.”
“You’re so damn cute, Yuri.”
A heated silence passed between them. Where Tiffany and Yuri simply grinned stupidly at each other. And it pained Yuri to know their chemistry couldn’t play out the easy way. Not when she was committed. To a man, no less. She sighed through the abject disappointment, projecting it to work woes. “I have yarn duty today. Hooray.”
“It’ll pass.” She shifted nearer, unbuckling herself. “Think about what we’ll eat tomorrow night.”
As a fresh baby lesbian, ‘eat’ carried a salacious connotation and Yuri secretly loved it. “Nothing else will be on my mind.”
“Mine either.”
Yuri observed their surroundings-the parking lot-for the first time since they arrived. If she took the insane leap of kissing Tiffany, would a coworker see? Would she care if they did? Maybe not as much for acquaintances like Jea, but Sooyoung was a different story. “Try not to miss me too much?”
Tiffany crossed her arms, defiant. “Get out.”
Releasing her seatbelt, Yuri groaned. She could’ve slept through this dream forever. Honestly, she’d relive their initial awkward a million times if it meant landing here, with Tiffany eyeing her like this. “I’d risk being late if it wouldn’t screw over the person whose shift is before mine. We stick around until our replacements clock in.”
“Considerate, beautiful Kwon Yuri,” Tiffany purred, raising her hands to wave in a hug. “Is anything wrong with you?”
Yuri fell into the ‘slim’ category, but the slenderness that her arms wrapped around flummoxed her. Comparable to Sooyoung, except Tiffany’s body radiated sensuality, a delicacy never experienced while praying for sleep in Taekwoon’s muscular hold. She roved her nose through shiny, redolent hair. Damn, she felt gay right now. “I’m so imperfect, it hurts.”
“I doubt it.”
If only she knew.
…
Yuri didn’t get a good minute of self-flagellation in because Sooyoung met her at the automatic doors of Craftie’s, looking fit to be tied.
“To the backroom!” she exclaimed, sounding very ‘60s Batman.
So, she followed, throwing an acknowledging smile to Jaehyun, who immediately untied his staff apron.
Sooyoung didn’t speak again, her bony hand secured to Yuri’s in a painful clinch, until she’d holed them behind a rack of clearance garland. Its orange and brown leaflets provided a pleasant backdrop to Sooyoung pacing like someone who committed murder. “Something happened, Yul. Something bad.”
Oh, shit. Maybe she wasn’t too off. “Soo, what’s up?”
“Don’t lecture me, alright?”
Yuri coughed out of nerves, otherwise motionless. “I won’t.”
“Can’t you guess?” Sooyoung folded her arms, not unlike Tiffany minutes before. Actually, Tiffany was the reason Yuri hadn’t come up with her own reasonable conclusion. The high was too strong.
“Just tell me.”
“Taehyung’s cute, right? I did say I had a crush on a guy who looked exactly him.” Sooyoung relayed at lightning speed, the very image of guilt. “Remember me saying that?”
“I…” Yuri kept a blank face, opting to nod instead.
“I’d blame the alcohol…fuck, I wish I could blame the alcohol when we…” She switched gears. Out came her phone and in a few taps and swipes, she presented what she couldn’t say with words.
A photo of a blueish bruise on the apex of her small cleavage, suspiciously mouth-sized. “Choi Sooyoung!”
“We got along so well and shit just happens. You understand?”
Boy, did Yuri ever. However, Sooyoung cut her off.
“Of course you don’t. You’re not an irresponsible slut.”
“Soo,” she passed the phone back, voice cracking. “You’re not a slut.”
Sooyoung cut her eyes to the sky. “A picture’s worth a thousand words, Yul. And one of them for that is a slut. A cheating slut. God damnit, how am I gonna tell Han?”
It wasn’t the appropriate time, yet Yuri replaced any shock for Sooyoung with pity toward herself. If whatever she had with Tiffany was somewhat real, how would she tell Taekwoon? Hell, how would she tell anybody? “C’mere.”
Frustrated or not, Sooyoung was helpless to tumble into her friend’s arms. T’was her nature. She breathed in deeply, sighing. “You smell like royalty, lady. Is that new?”
Tiffany’s perfume. Yuri swore to be more careful. “Yeah. Just a sample.”
Yes, the fragrant sample of a liar.
[A/N]
Someone train my bb SinB properly, tyvm.
