006. Cocktail

"If you ask what drink goes best with a cocktail girl, the answer's always a little vague. But if you ask what drink's the worst, I'd say beer. You get full before you even get drunk. The mood's off, and it tastes like rubbing alcohol anyway—soju's better. Of course, if you're willing to spend a little money, sweet cocktails are the way to go."

"⋯A Cosmopolitan and a Mojito, please. And some assorted cheese with fries."

"Of course."

"Y-You must come here often."

"⋯I can't handle soju very well."

People get drunk on alcohol, but they get drunk on atmosphere even faster. The dark, dreamy lighting softens my rough face until I almost look like a movie star. Of course, the same light wraps around her too, making her already striking features feel even more seductive. Especially that teardrop mole beneath her eye—it looks just as lewd as her generous chest.

"This is my first time at a bar like this⋯ So this is the vibe."

"It's not that different from a pojangmacha. Only the drinks change."

She's only wearing a hoodie, yet somehow it looks indecent. Maybe it's those full breasts. Or maybe it's the thrill of watching the woman who used to despise me grow visibly nervous and flustered.

"Haa⋯"

"⋯Hey, want to talk about what's bothering you?"

"It's not the kind of thing I'd tell Haeun-ssi. Sorry."

"Oh⋯"

Her clumsy attempt to break the awkward silence is oddly endearing. We've only met again after two weeks, yet she's already worrying about a man she used to hate. Half of it is probably thanks to that trainer who kept hitting on her. I'm grateful, really.

"Here are your drinks."

"Thank you."

The bartender sets both glasses in front of me and places the snacks closer to her. I take a light sip of the refreshing mojito first. Seo Haeun stares at her empty hands, unsure what to do.

"⋯Is something wrong?"

"Ah, well⋯"

"⋯Oh. I didn't order anything for you. I'm sorry, my head's a mess. Should I get you a non-alcoholic drink now?"

"N-No, no, no. It's fine. I'll just have that one⋯"

"This is pretty strong. Are you sure?"

"It's still a cocktail, so⋯"

She pushes the glass toward me like she's proving she won't get drunk, keeping up the act. Despite the pretty cranberry-red color, the drink is stronger than soju. Sweet and tangy, it's dangerously easy to drink too fast. Seo Haeun accepts the glass with a doubtful look, takes a cautious sip, then another when she realizes it's actually good.

"⋯It's delicious."

"I have a sweet tooth. Can't handle bitter things. Or much alcohol, either."

"You can't drink well?"

"I don't hold it well. One bottle of soju and I'm done."

"Ah, me too. My face turns red after half a bottle, and I'm drunk after one."

Surprisingly, she even reveals her drinking limit. I keep my expression neutral while the alcohol warms me, steering the conversation into that perfect in-between space—light enough to feel like two people on the verge of something more. We keep drinking until our cheeks flush. Truthfully, I won't actually get drunk unless I down an entire case of soju, but the pleasant buzz is enough.

"Haa⋯ Once the alcohol kicks in, I feel a little more relaxed."

"Are you already drunk?"

"I wish I were. I felt like throwing up earlier."

"⋯"

Matching the tipsy atmosphere, I circle around the main topic, feeding her the kind of stories most women love to hear—especially when they sense there's more beneath the surface. It's hard not to be curious.

"⋯Do you like getting candy as a gift, Haeun-ssi?"

"Sorry?"

"Just wondering how you feel when someone gives you candy or chocolate."

"A little⋯ Ah. I like it. Especially on White Day."

Every time she drinks, I slip in another interesting story so she stays focused on me without noticing she's already finished more than half her glass.

"⋯I wish someone would give me something like that. Never happened to me."

"What?"

"They only ever take. Sometimes it feels like they're only interested in my body."

"Your body?"

"I don't know if you've experienced this, but you know the feeling—when you want an emotional connection but the other person only sees you physically. It just doesn't match up."

"Ah⋯"

I mix in just enough truth to build rapport. I don't know her exact dating history, but she definitely had a guy ogling her body just yesterday. And right now, she's looking at one.

"But the person who likes the other more always ends up in the weaker position. You can't even complain. Honestly, she's more successful than me, and if we broke up I don't think I'd find anyone better. It's frustrating. Really."

"⋯I see."

"Dating is supposed to make you happy, but it's so exhausting. Sometimes I wonder what the point is these days."

"I understand."

"Whew⋯ Oh, my glass is empty. Want another?"

"Ah, I finished mine too⋯"

"Let's get something lighter this time. Ever heard of a Kahlúa Milk?"

"Hmm⋯ I think so."

"I'll order two."

She's nodding along now. I order two lower-proof cocktails while continuing my string of complaints. We each take a glass of the same color and sip without waiting for the other.

"Mmm⋯ Tastes like coffee milk."

"Doesn't really feel like alcohol, right? Super sweet, too. That's why I used to drink it a lot as a player—never got hungover."

"⋯Baseball players drink this too?"

"My tastes are a little unusual. Most of the guys were either soju or beer drinkers. I didn't like either, so I usually drank alone."

"Ahaha⋯"

The mood is loose. I start steering the conversation elsewhere. Complaining about a nonexistent girlfriend will only leave me pretending to feel better while she racks up more debt to me. If I want her drunk enough to make a mistake, I need to listen to her problems too. Everyone has them.

"After retiring, even coming to places like this feels like a burden. Just one date costs a fortune, and adding drinks makes the snacks expensive too."

"⋯I know exactly what you mean."

"I couldn't afford the car anymore, so I sold it. My body's not exactly in great shape either, so everything's been difficult."

"Is your body okay?"

"My shoulder doesn't go up properly. Like this."

I stretch my left arm forward—the one that's actually fine—and pretend it won't rise any higher, milking a little sympathy. Whether she realizes it or not, she's part of this story now. I pull her into my fabricated past as another character.

"I should've taken better care of my body. I got too excited when I was throwing well and pushed myself too hard. It's all my fault."

"⋯"

"Back then I was competing hard, so my temper was pretty bad. Looking back, I don't know why I acted that way. The other team's players were colleagues too. So were the club staff. There was no need to pick fights."

"⋯Wait, didn't you only pick fights with me?"

"Haeun-ssi, you don't watch baseball, do you?"

"No?"

"If you had, you wouldn't say that. I got a lot of hate. 'Rookie with no manners.' 'Asshole.' I almost got hit with a water bottle once while leaving work."

"Really?"

"Just kidding. It was a water bottle, not chicken. And it missed."

"Oh⋯"

I reframe our old grudges as youthful recklessness, slowly melting away whatever resentment she still holds.

"Ah, I finished this one already too. Want another?"

"⋯Yes."

"Hmm⋯ Something you might like⋯"

"Ah, the mojito was really good earlier⋯"

"⋯Then mojito and a Long Island Iced Tea. I'll order those."

"Okay."

We refill the empty glasses with alcohol and keep filling the space where her old hostility used to be. The conversation flows easily now.

"The mojito's really good. Sweeter than I expected. Super refreshing."

"It's delicious. But I still like this one more. It's milder."

"⋯That one's good too?"

"This? Tastes just like iced tea. Want a sip?"

"Oh, sure. Mmm⋯ Wow, it really does taste like iced tea."

"If you close your eyes, it's basically a soda. Just a tiny hint of alcohol."

"Even with your eyes open it feels like a drink."

"Seems like it suits your taste. Want another?"

"N-No, no. Let's finish this one first."

I keep tempting her with stronger, sweeter drinks, slowly unraveling her reason.

"Ah~, it's been so long since I drank with someone like this. Feels good to get properly tipsy—haven't felt this way in years, honestly."

"This is my first time drinking cocktails, but they're pretty easy to drink."

"How am I supposed to repay you? Last time you bought me a meal."

"You don't have to repay anything. Just⋯"

"I want to. I'm grateful to you, Haeun-ssi."

"⋯Grateful?"

"Of course. We barely know each other, and you still worried about someone you disliked enough to listen to my problems."

"Ah, that was just⋯"

"You don't hate me anymore?"

I push deeper through the cracks in her loosened guard, asking the question she would never answer sober.

"What? ⋯Kang Juhyuk-ssi, are you drunk?"

"Ah, that came out wrong. I mean⋯ You don't feel anything toward me now, right? Not hate, not like. Just someone you know."

"Oh⋯ Yeah. Just someone I know."

"Why did you hate me so much back then? Because you hate baseball players in general?"

"I told you before. I got stalked in high school by a guy on the baseball team."

"If you hated baseball that much, why did you join our club? Someone like you could've done well in something else."

"⋯I tried something, but it didn't work out."

"Were you preparing to be a singer?"

"⋯How did you know that?"

I peel back another layer of the woman who used to be an impenetrable wall. Smiling with a drunk face like I know nothing, I turn the conversation toward her.

"Heard rumors you auditioned. Thought maybe."

Whatever answer she gives doesn't matter. Whether it's "You're the best," "You did nothing wrong," or "You'll make it," she'll keep drinking and get drunk on her own.