MATCHMAKER

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Hell, even the cicadas, hushed and stilted, have contented themselves and are listening in. Should you have even had the courage to turn and face her, you’d sooner die than let Eunbi see the flush searing its way across the bridge of your nose.

“Hey.”

That lilting voice, it grips you. It pulls your eyes over your shoulder. You can’t decide if you first need to cough, laugh or cry—perhaps all three. God only knows.

—

A look back across the table, and there she is— still. The model. Eunbi had told you as much, scrolling through photo after photo of this woman like she was trying to sell you a car.

At least she’s pretty.

It’s hardly the qualifier you wish it was, repeating it in your head over and over. You’d liken this to pulling teeth—but you’re willing to bet you’ve had better chemistry with your dentists. Despite a mouth full of utensils and consistently lying about how often you floss, it’s not like your conversations weren’t cordial.

The sharp clattering of silverware tossed on the plate in front of her rouses you from your idle thoughts.

You watch her eyes dart across the table and back to you. Fists clenched, her knuckles turn white. You can hardly hear the exasperated huff that billows out of her chest over the sound of chair legs scraping against the hardwood floor.

“You’re an ass,” she spits.

You start to piece together how you’ll apologize to Eunbi—god knows she’ll hear about this—because at this point, you’d long exhausted whatever goodwill you still had for this woman. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Your words roll off your tongue faster than you could possibly hope to muster any kind of self control to contain them.

“Well, at least I’m not just an ass.”

Dark red, dreadful really—a glassful of wine hurdles across the length of the dinner table. It’s just your luck. Realistically, it’s what you deserved. You’d thought this would be the kind of thing that might happen in slow-motion, a cathartic moment to question your life choices. In reality, it’s over in an instant. The table seemed so very long only seconds ago, but the drink sticking to your face, your shirt, in your hair, dripping down your nose, it makes you regret not being sat a few feet closer to the door.

“ Prick.”

You don’t dare open your eyes until the strident tap-tap-tap of those tall heels fades into the background noise of the restaurant, now almost silent, clearly watching this scene unfold with bated breath. You feel each pair of eyes crawling up your skin as it finds its way onto you. If there was a god, a merciful one, now would probably be as good a time as any to open the earth beneath your feet and swallow you whole.

You pull at your face with the palm of your hand, the alcohol out of your eyes, your nose, your mouth. You can hear the whispers shuffle around you. And upon finally opening your eyes, you find yourself centered on the world’s most damned stage, a spectacle for restaurant staff and patrons alike.

Mortifying.

There was good reason for the moratorium you’d put on letting Eunbi play at matchmaker. Quite a few actually. And you wish you’d have the wherewithal to remember any of them whenever she’d get that irresistible urge to ruin a perfectly good evening.

Truthfully, it’d been the same for as long as you can remember. Kwon Eunbi kept her friends close. And she’d fill her days pairing off everyone in her orbit, results be damned. Three relationships you’d since suffered. All born of Eunbi’s machinations. All inevitably folding, fumbling, crashing in spectacular fashion.

Things didn’t improve when she found fame either.

Even back in school, though you weren’t necessarily unpopular by any means—friendly, athletic, and smart enough to stay out of any serious trouble—compared to her, you may as well have been nobody. It certainly came as no surprise that she found her stride on stage, making a career of capturing hearts.

And with that, her life abruptly launched her into meeting no small number of fascinating people, as so eventually would you. But considering the ways these evenings consistently play out, it just never quite did seem to stick.

Your waitress leans in trying her best not to catch any of the gazes meant for you. “Would you like your check sir? And maybe a towel?”

A drop of red wine swells and drips from your nose to chin. The slow, labored breath you draw fills your cheeks on its way out. It’s the first time you’ve been this soaked at the end of a meal, but it’s far from your worst date.

—

You could’ve sworn it was just summer. The cool breeze setting on the streets catches you off guard. Though, the soaked shirt around your shoulders was hardly paying you any favors.

Eunbi shoves a hoodie into your chest. “What the hell did you do?”

“My best if I’m being honest,” you say, ripping the tag off the sweatshirt. You can clearly see Eunbi’s eyes fill with contempt as you start to pluck at the buttons at the front of your sad, stained shirt.

“Jesus. You’re just going to give everyone a show?” Glaring, Eunbi wraps her fingers around your wrist and drags you off the sidewalk, her short hair bouncing in place. Pressed to answer, you’d say you missed those long, silky locks that used to tumble off her shoulders, but as it always was with Kwon Eunbi, and quite unfairly, everything looked good on her.

“Now talk.”

“I mean there’s not really a whole lot to say.” You wrestle your arms from your sleeves and search for the opening at the bottom of the sweatshirt. “I’m honestly more curious what made you think that would ever work out.” Arms trapped in the sweatshirt over your head, you click your tongue against your teeth. “Eunbi. Eunbi— eyes up here.”

“Oh piss off.” Clenching her fingers into two tiny fists, she hides her scowl with a smirk. “What am I supposed to do now? You know the two of us are going to be filming again next week? I’ll need to say something.”

Her questions marinate in terse silence while you give the hem of the shirt a final tug, snugly fitting it over your chest. “How much was the sweatshirt?”

Eunbi shakes her head and sends her hands to her hips, a pitied laugh falling out of her nose. “Forty bucks.”

“But honestly, tell me.” You dig the cash out of your wallet before slapping it into Eunbi’s open palm as you open your complaint. “You ever actually talk to her? I’d wager I’d have gotten on easier with an electrical outlet.”

She soaks up your words, her thumbnail between her teeth. You watch her eyebrows twist into a familiar, pensive look. “Hardly—mostly on set, and about work.”

“And somewhere in there you figured… Hey this would be a great idea,” you say, arms stretching to the side.

“Look—I don’t know—I thought she was hot.”

She was hot. And arrogant. And self-centered. And rude. And utterly miserable.

Eunbi shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “How hard is it to have a drink or two, go back to your apartment and get to knocking boots?”

You pause. The stray idea that Eunbi was imagining you—in any capacity— knocking boots? The inside of your cheek starts to burn as you bite into it. “Well we certainly didn’t make it that far.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Eunbi glances at the time on her wrist and a laugh, dry and humorless, separates her words, “It’s not even nine-thirty.”

“Believe me. I’m aware.” Your shoulders indulge in a despondent sigh. “And I’m beyond ready to turn in. Where did you park?”

“By the 7-Eleven.” She looks at you, gears churning behind her eyes.“But I’m not taking you home yet. I’ve got at least another hour’s worth of dodging my manager to do.”

You narrow your eyes. Maybe she’s toying with you—you wanted nothing more than a hot shower and to be wrapped up in your bed ready to greet the morning. Tomorrow had to be better than today. You aren’t Dante delving through the depths of hell for goodness’ sake. That isn’t your story.

You shout out as Eunbi starts making her way back onto the sidewalk, “And do what?”

“I don’t know. Take a walk. Explain to me why you can’t keep that tongue of yours on leash. I don’t care.” Hands still buried in her jacket pockets, she flares her elbows to the sides in a pitiful shrug. “You made me grab you a change of clothes—the least you can do is help me kill some time.”

—

You’d thought fresh air and getting up onto your feet might help you finally relax after an evening of stifled conversation. The reality is that under the twilight sky, walking aside her, it becomes noticeably difficult to breathe.

The park tucked between the city’s metro hub and its boardwalk of chic restaurants truly was the quintessential date spot. Fingers locked and sneaking kisses under the moon, the couples you keep seeing more than confirmed as much.