Page 109 of Mother Parker
He might not be wearing one of his colorful wigs, but he was Hwan, so naturally, he was wearing his pink pajamas with the bubble tea figurines sprinkled all over.
This boy literally lived and breathed bubble tea, and I, for one, didn’t mind one bit. His passion for it made me realize I was attracted to him. One of the many parts of him I’d become addicted and accustomed to.
“How long before it’s ready? I’m so hungry I could eat you,” he said.
“Be patient. It’s just gonna be two minutes.”
He frowned. “And here I thought you were going to offer up yourself for dinner.”
“Maybe for dessert,” I said with a wink.
“Maybe?”
“Definitely for dessert,” I told him.
I hadn’t told him yet, but I was going to ask him tonight. Perhaps I could hold off until after we ate. I knew he wanted to fuck me, but we were taking it slow in that department.
But I wanted to try it. I wanted to try everything with him. For him.
“I guess two minutes won’t kill me,” he said.
He got a bottle of white wine out of the fridge while I drained the spaghetti and mixed it with the pancetta and cream. I added the eggs and parmesan and stirred everything well until it was just enough, then distributed it onto two plates.
Hwan grabbed the remote and sat down at the dining table. As I served the plates, he putJane the Virginon—I’d gotten him hooked on it—and I sat down, taking a big swig of wine to cool down.
“Cheers,” I offered the glass in the air, and he clinked with mine.
His eyes settled on my gaze for a few moments as the sounds of the show and the aroma of the carbonara filled the air.
I couldn’t believe I’d been avoiding this my entire life when now I couldn’t imagine life any other way.
Autumn was right. I had to tell him how I felt. I had to be honest.
“Cheers,” he finally said and took a sip, then he was onto the plate like a vulture.
Not that I wasn’t. Working out with my sister completely wiped me, and then coming into the café to find it heaving with customers…?
Needless to say, we hadn’t had a chance to rest or eat.
I wrapped a bunch of spaghetti around my fork and took a bite.
Hwan had frozen, staring at me, cheeks puffed from the food in his mouth, and I looked up, the sour taste making me feel sick.
I spat it out, and Hwan immediately followed suit.
“What did you put in it?” he asked, laughing before he downed the rest of his wine.
“What I normally put in when I make carbonara,” I defended myself, although I didn’t know why.
I didn’t know what the meal in front of me was, but it was definitely not carbonara.
“Please don’t tell me you took after Autumn’s culinary skills because I don’t think my heart can take it,” he said, clutching his chest.
“Don’t be a drama queen,” I told him.
“Have you met me?”
I laughed and put my fork down.
