April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions (5 page)

As soon as I reach my bedroom door, I can hear the voices in the kitchen. I pray that Eunhye is on the phone and Brown Eyes is long gone. Instead, I find the both of them leaning against the kitchen.

“Well, I do enjoy getting up and going to work. But, it can get quite tedious,” Eunhye is saying. She holds her favorite tea mug as she laughs.

“It’s really admirable though,” Brown Eyes replies to my stepmother. “You save a lot of lives.”

This is all wrong, all out of sorts. He doesn’t belong here in my drab and normal kitchen. In fact, he doesn’t earn any right to hold a full conversation with my Eunhye. Now that he is conscious and sober, Brown Eyes is back to his strikingly handsome and charismatic self. He looks presentable despite the fact that he is still wearing clothes from last night, sans the black blazer. In the light, it is easier to gather the features of his face. With dark hair cascading over his features, Brown Eyes’ bright complexion makes his face appear more open. It is evident Brown Eyes doesn’t belong to our world. Everything about him, including his demeanor and attitude, is not from mainstream society. Brown Eyes belongs to a much deeper and darker world than mine.

“Oh, look who’s awake. Good morning.”

I am too busy staring at Brown Eyes and Eunhye to realize that they see me looking at them.

My stepmother’s face softens at the sight of me. I normally call her mother, but Eunhye is actually my stepmother. My biological mother died when I was
younger, so my father ended up integrating me into his primary family. From the beginning, Eunhye treated me as if I am her biological daughter. She makes it easy to like her and over time, I began to love her like my biological mother. The stereotypical myth of stepmother and stepchild drama was never applicable to us. Of course we have our differences, but what mother-daughter pairing doesn’t? Eunhye never misses an opportunity to teach me a lesson, however.

At the moment, Eunhye has her relaxed and entertained face on. She is the prettiest Korean woman I know with her bright eyes and full smile. My stepmother always has her hair piled on the top of her head to display her favorite gold earrings. She is only five feet tall and about a hundred pounds, but her personality makes her comparable to a stick of dynamite.

Brown Eyes must have already worked some kind of special magic on her because Eunhye doesn’t seem upset that he’s in the apartment. In fact, she is standing there with an expectant expression on her face.

“Good morning,” Eunhye repeats again.

“Good morning,” I mumble under my breath. “I see you met–”

“Your friend, Choi Sangwoo?” She completes my sentence shortly. “We’ve been chatting for the past half an hour, sleepyhead. You want a cup of tea?”

Choi Sangwoo. Sangwoo Choi. I like the name I gave him better. Choi Sangwoo sounds too regal and elite, dangerous and obsolete. But I have to admit the name is befitting of him. It embodies him from head-to-toe. I am not sure if I will ever find out just how much, but I am willing to bet on it. Now that Eunhye and I know his official name, Brown Eyes is moving from stranger to acquaintance quickly.

“No tea,” I answer Eunhye finally.

I turn my attention to Choi Sangwoo. I am still mentally testing out his name.
The face does match the name.
My intuition gapes at him.

“Good morning May,” he says as soon as we make eye contact. Sangwoo is holding my usual coffee mug in his hand.

“Good morning,” I reply shortly.
Who does he think he is, looking so gorgeous after such a drunken escapade, standing in my kitchen buttering up my mother?
I know it is easy for him. Choi Sangwoo probably has the charms and wit that only experience conjures.

Fortunately, Eunhye doesn’t catch the awkwardness between us. “You never told me about Choi Sangwoo.” She turns back to look at him. “He’s very handsome.”

Sangwoo lets out a chuckle, but doesn’t look shy.
A little bit conceited huh?
It is too much of a boyish response for someone like him to pull off.

“There’s not much to tell . . . about Sangwoo,” I reply to Eunhye. My mind is ransacking all the lies I need to come up with on the spot. I am well aware that Sangwoo has his undivided attention on me now. “We’ve been friends for–”

“Ever since I started working at The Trax,” Sangwoo cuts me off. He gives me a nod as if to say he can handle this. Sangwoo turns back to my mother and continues with unfathomable confidence. “As I explained earlier, we had a promotional campaign for the club last night. I had too much to drink with a few customers. I wouldn’t have been able to make it home. May was nice enough to help and let me crash on her floor. I hope you understand.”

“Oh. Of course!” Eunhye replies quickly. She lifts up a hand to touch Sangwoo’s right shoulder softly. It is a clear indication that she likes him. “I would rather you stay here and sober up than get in trouble on the way
home.”

The situation is too precarious for me to interrupt, so I keep my silence and let Sangwoo tell my mother the fabricated details. Apparently, he is a master at stringing the lies without any detection of false play.

“Well, I’m glad May is putting herself out there and making more friends. She’s quite the loner, you know. I tell her all the time to make more friends. She’s consistently working two jobs and putting her social life aside. She doesn’t let too many people into her life, so I welcome the ones that she does.” Just when I think she isn’t going to embarrass me, there is the classic remark mothers tend to make. I suppose a mother’s worse nightmare could go either way when it comes to her daughter having too many friends or none at all.

I don’t miss Choi Sangwoo glancing curiously at me after hearing that piece of information. There is a clear delight in his brown eyes.

“. . . Your phone is ringing mom,” I announce abruptly.

She thinks I am making a smart excuse, but Eunhye’s smile subsides when the familiar ring emits from her bedroom. “It must be the hospital calling.” Eunhye clutches her mug with alertness. The classical conditioning has her wired.

My mother doesn’t forget her manners. Eunhye pats Sangwoo’s shoulder with endearment before leaving the kitchen. “Come by when you’re free. We can have dinner together. I’d love to get to know you better.”

What? You’re inviting him to dinner already?
My intuition shifts uncomfortably on her meditation mat.

“I definitely will. It was nice meeting you Mrs. Lee.” He bows respectfully in return.

Eunhye gives me a smile before she leaves; it’s her we-need-to-talk-later smile. My heart sinks a little.

“Thank you for what you did last night.” Choi Sangwoo waits until Eunhye is in her room before he addresses me.

Heart stop.
I find the words jumbling in my throat. I should feel violated. He took advantage of my Samaritan act too far by introducing himself to my mother without my presence. But when Brown Eyes addresses me with the whole package of alluring tone of voice, sultry look, and commanding presence I am silly putty again.

“You’re welcome,” I answer in a submissive whisper.
Who are you?
my intuition hisses at me with condemned betrayal.

“I hope you don’t mind. I introduced myself to your mother. I woke up thirsty, so I went out to the kitchen to get some water. Your mother
was making tea and she looked very surprised and . . . hurt that I was here. You’re a good girl. You don’t usually bring strange men home, do you?”

Of course not!
I’m not a slush–Lina’s term for a slut. “No, I don’t.” My tone of voice is unwavering. I narrow my eyes at Sangwoo to let him know I take offense.

Sangwoo smiles without teeth. He is clearly joking with me. “So I had to conjure up a story about how we work together,” Sangwoo continues to elaborate calmly, but his facial expression is hard to read.

“You could have woken me up,” is all I can respond. My conscience is shaking her head, not impressed by how I am handling the situation.

Sangwoo’s eyes appear delighted that he has me eating out of his hands. “You were sleeping so peacefully with your baseball bat.”

I have no reply to the truth. My cheeks heat up at the look in his eyes.
Well, a girl’s got to protect herself.

Sangwoo brings the mug he is holding back up to his lips.
How many girls would give anything to be that mug right now?
My face increases with heat as the bad thought crosses my mind. Choi Sangwoo’s body language is the same as the previous night. Only this time he isn’t drinking alcohol, but instead fresh green jasmine tea–one of Eunhye’s favorite concoctions for a hangover.

“But thank you, though, for your hospitality.” Sangwoo’s eyes glow. “You and your mother remind me that there’s still humility, innocence, and peace in the world.”

I am careful not to let the confusion show on my face. When I realize why he is describing us like that, I remember the necklace on his neck. As my eyes move to his collar, Sangwoo’s hand nonchalantly tucks the diamond-encrusted chain inside his shirt.

In that instant, he knows that I know.

I lift my eyes up to look straight into his. “Why did you come back to The Trax last night?”

Sangwoo pauses at my blunt question as though he
hadn’t anticipated for me to be so straight forward. He places the mug back on the counter. Then, he deliberately turns the sink faucet on and washes his hands. The seconds tick by in awkwardness with a tint of tension. When he finishes, Sangwoo rinses his hands on one of the sink towels.
How can someone make washing their hands look so sexy?
My conscience is staring at him with her undivided attention; this creature confounds her.

Finally Brown Eyes, Choi Sangwoo, turns to face me and answers my question with, “You can say I’m in town for business.”

Illegal business?
My intuition lifts up an eyebrow. “Why The Trax?” I question further.

“That is a matter of personal record, Maybelline.” Just like that, he stops me in my tracks. Sangwoo narrows his eyes at me, and all of a sudden, the warnings from my co-workers about gangsters inundate my mind.
I should never forget his career choice. And he called me by my complete name. Eunhye gave me up!

“I’m sorry.” I peer up at him.
Crap. My big mouth always gives me away.

Sangwoo never breaks eye contact with me. A thought crosses his mind, and Sangwoo’s lips part in a seductive manner. “Are you afraid of me?” Sangwoo’s question comes with a forceful tone. He waits for my response with parted lips and smoky eyes.

“N-no.” I deny immediately as a defense mechanism. “If I am afraid of you, I wouldn’t have helped you out last night.”
One point for me.

“You should be afraid of me.” There is a signature of cockiness in his voice.
Two points for Brown Eyes.
“Why did you help me last night?” Sangwoo is proving to be intelligent and cunning.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I reply shortly. A nerve of mine pinches. I am rising to the challenge of speaking to this intimidating man.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sangwoo raises an eyebrow at my statement. Evidently, he doesn’t like responses that undermine his ability to comprehend. “Because someone of my means couldn’t possibly understand the world of goodness you come from?”

It is apparent and decided. We are not going to get along at the rate of this push and pull. “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t feel the need to justify and explain why I helped. I don’t usually–”

“Associate with my kind. So now that I have exhausted my quota of help from you, I need to leave,” he completes my sentence with haste. Slowly, Sangwoo’s lips part into a smile that reveal the whitest set of teeth I have ever seen. “Don’t worry May. I already have a car coming for me. I’ll be out of your life soon.”

Wait! Let me dust off my debate book!
I feel the wave of guilt hover me when Sangwoo finishes his sentence.
“Can I be honest?” I ask.

Sangwoo stares with amusement. I expect another snappy comment from him, but he surprises me instead. “Please do,” he says softly.

I lick my lips in anticipation as my heart rate picks up. “Have we met before? Aside from last week, have we met before somewhere?” There, I did it. I jumped off the cliff and am now dangling in the air. I wait for his answer expectantly.

As though Choi Sangwoo has been anticipating this question, this mysterious man doesn’t shed a clue that my question rattles him. “Do you feel like we’ve met before?” Sangwoo’s brown eyes ask me. He is in control, not giving anything away freely.

“Yes,” I answer shortly. My conscience stares at me with her jaw on the floor. “But I can’t remember,” I confess softly.
Why don’t you tell him you have been dreaming about him for the past week too?
my intuition snaps.

The seconds tick by. Our eyes lock in a stare off.

“No, May. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” Sangwoo drops our eye contact. The heavy air dispels between us.

I feel the heaviness of my heart on my feet. I glance down at my toes for a second and mentally paint them a fuchsia color. I expel silent air out of my lungs. At least I asked.