Page 61 of Paradox
“Fuck you,” I grin down at him and shake my head.
“No thanks. You’d come too quickly.” Jin gasps, and when I whip my head back around to him, his hand is clamped over his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? Because you can’t hold your liquor?”
“Hey!” His face sparks back to life. “You’re the one who brought out the soju.”
“And you’re the one who said you could handle it.”
“It’s my people’s national drink. How could I call myself Korean if I backed down?”
Putting our plates in the sink, I take two glasses from the cupboard.
“You’re American, little man,” I tell him while filling the cups with water from the filter. “You should be drinking Bud Light.”
“Screw you.”
“No thanks, I’d probably break you.”
“Screw you.” There’s a twinge of hostility in Jin’s voice as he repeats his response.
“Is the little man a pain whore?”
“Stop calling me that!” he yells, but I hand him the water like I didn’t hear a thing. In spite of his irritation, he downs severalmouthfuls, then scoots forward from where he's leaning against the couch to place it on the coffee table. Following suit, I take a drink, then walk backwards to take a seat on the floor in front of my side of the couch.
“More,” Jin says, banging his empty glass tumbler on the coffee table.
“Did you purposefully wait till I sat down?”
He reaches to grab the unopened soju bottle. “You’re not the only one who wants to get drunk and forget about something.”
“Uh, uh, uh.” I snatch it out of his hand and place it on my side of the coffee table. “You’re underage, and I’m the responsible adult.”
A full belly laugh explodes out of Jin, and he collapses backward onto the rug. “You’ve never been responsible a day in your life.”
“And you have, little man?”
“I told you to stop it,” he snaps again, this time kicking me in the thigh.
I shrug flippantly. “You look pretty small from where I am.”
“And you look like a dickhead from here.” Rolling onto his stomach, he pushes up onto all fours and crawls around to the other side of the table. After pouring us both the drink he demanded, he leans forward on the wood with his elbows and casually shoots half the clear liquid in one go. “I'm not a fan of lemongrass.”
“Take it up with your mother. I assume she’s who you stole it from.”
Like a bratty kid, he pokes his tongue out at me and downs the second half. “I’m bored. Put a movie on.”
“When the fuck did you become so demanding?”
“When you stopped hitting me.”
I was part way through standing up when he started talking, and now I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, looking at him ashe lays spread eagle on the rug while staring straight up into the rafters.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe anything you say.”
“You believed me when I said dinner was good.”
