24 [Ft. Triple S's Seoyeon]

“Dont get me wrong, you seem like a great guy but this date kind of felt…bland”

It repeated nonstop in your head like a mantra. You were certain that you acted normal. Dressed smart casual. Nice perfume. Minty breath. You two were having steak for dinner, and the vibe was quite nice.

And yet. The word “bland” hits you harder than you ever thought.

You kept thinking back to it as you glanced up at the clock. 11pm (yikes). And you’re not even sure why you stayed here at the bar next door.

Maybe it was the dim lights — sometimes alight and sometimes half-dead hanging over the counter, flickering every once in a while like they were just as dead as you are. Or maybe it was the bartender’s silent pity at each glance. But honestly, nothing beats the sting of being called boring repetitively by each date as they walked out halfway through dinner.

“Tsk…fuck this” you muttered under your breath, swirling what was left of your whiskey. The ice clinked against the glass like it was mocking you.

“…you look like someone who just got rejected by a date.” A voice piped up from your left.

You didn’t even bother to look. “Yeah, well maybe I am.”

That certainly hits her humour, judging by that low, amused sound. “Yikes. Self-awareness. You don’t see that often at this hour.”

You finally turned your head and there she was. Blonde hair. Hoodie two sizes too big. A can of beer in one hand and a bowl of peanuts. Well, her cheeks were the most puffy you have ever seen, but the main point is that she looked far too relaxed for someone sitting in a half-empty bar at midnight.

“…do I know you from somewhere?”

“Don’t think so.” She replied. “But it was more interesting here than staring at the spider web at the corner, so I figured why not give you some decent company?”

You stared at her. “…I’m good.”

“Sure, buddy.” She replied immediately, grinning as she slid onto the stool beside you, pushing the bowl of peanuts between you two. “You don’t say good when you down that whiskey at midnight.”

You tried to search through your tired brain for a comeback. Nothing came out. “…I’m sure I’m fine.”

“Of course, I can see it in your eyes.” She popped a peanut to her mouth, even without saying anything you can feel like she is mocking you. “So, what’s the tea? Girl trouble? Job crisis? Being kicked back to Iron 1?"

You sighed. "Date trouble. She left. Said I was too boring.”

Her eyes lit up like she’d found something fun. “Oh wow, interesting. A ‘too honest to the face’ breakup. Poor you.”

“Well, it’s not really a breakup. More like an early escape.” you admit.

“Gosh, extra brutal.” She laughed as she popped another peanut to her mouth. “Let me guess, first date?”

“Third, actually.” You exhaled. “…which is far worse.”

“Because it means she really tried?”

You squinted your eyes at her. “Do you always psychoanalyse strangers in bars?”

“Ehh…only the interesting ones.” She sipped her beer. “Beats staring at the web.”

You unexpectedly huffed a short laugh. “You must have a lot of free time, huh?”

“Wayy too much,” she mocked. “What did you even do, buddy? Talk about stocks? How is mitochondria the powerhouse of the cell?”

“I said that I didn’t believe in love.”

A second of silence, and then she starts laughing followed by a little slam of her fist on the mahogany, you can tell she tries her best not to make a scene. She fails. “Okay… you just turned from interesting to really interesting” she says, taking a deep sigh after letting her laughter go away. “Okay then, tell me about this ‘I don’t believe in love’ theory you got there…” she leans closer, her chin finds its rest on her palms as she looks at you with a bit too much curiosity, as if you just said to her that the world is a triangle.

“Doesnt really feel like a theory when five dates in a row i get the ‘I just don’t see the spark between us’ text after a date, or it just goes straight to the ghost zone”

“Maybe it’s because of your negative mentality? I don’t know, just throwing out a guess” another peanut in her mouth.

“I’m not negative, I am just realistic about my situation” you explain.

“Yeah, it’s realistic that you are a negative nancy,” she finished. “But honestly, if I were her, I’d have left too.”

You frowned. “One, rude. And two, you don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to.” She tilted her head. “You exude this pessimistic aura that I can sense from the corner of the room. I bet you’re one of those guys that say he doesn’t believe in love but still listens to sad ballads when he’s drunk.”

You ignored that playlist of songs she just called you out for on your phone. “…Okay, first of all, I don’t –”

And she cuts in. “Bet your playlist is named something like ‘Fuck Love but I still fucking miss you’?”

You rubbed your temple, unsure if it was because of the alcohol or it was her. “…has anyone ever told you that you are really nosy?”

“No, but I bet everyone tells you that you’re quite predictable. Mr. Moody.” She shot back. “Anyway, I’m sure that your next date will go better.”

“I wish.” You breathed, voice a bit quieter and tired. “At this point, I’m certain that people fall in love with the idea of someone, not the actual person. And then they wake up one day and realise they were just in love with how it felt to be wanted.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she let out this tiny, almost mischievous chuckle. “That…is the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

“I’m so delighted that I’m your entertainment tonight.” You deadpanned.

“But…” She chugged the remainder of her pint, as if she was pumping herself for some grand announcement. “…you are wrong, one hundred percent.”

It is ridiculous to argue with a random girl in a bar, but the inner you decides to challenge her, starting with the trigger: “Okay, prove it then”

“Sure, let’s bet on it then” she retorts, her voice full of confidence.

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?”

“Yeah.” She straightened up (or tried to. She just downed a pint, after all). “I’ll make you fall in love with me.”

One second. And then two. And then you had to hold your laugh. “What?”

“…in the span of 24 hours. Starting at 12 AM today, which is …in about 4 minutes” Her tone was deadly serious for someone who (allegedly) is drunk. “I will make you say ‘I love you’, what do you say?”

You were aware that you just had whiskey, but surely no way in your life you would make a statement like that. Even with liquid courage. “…Are you serious?”

“Oh yes. absolutely” She roared, standing up and slammed down a few bills on the counter. “You think love’s dead? Fine, let’s resurrect it.”