Absinthe

"Once an asshole, always an asshole," I managed to say. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I sleep with every single man I come across. I have taste, too."

Jiwoo shrugged. "Yeah, and I match your taste, right? That's why I think I have a strong chance with you."

He wasn't wrong—he was exactly my type. But I hated him at that very moment. I felt nothing else for him apart from hatred and annoyance.

I sneered. "Unfortunately for you, I have extremely high standards in men. You seem to tick only one of the many boxes on my list."

"And what's that?"

"You may be my definition of 'attractive,' but I don't date guys based on their looks alone. They need to have a degree from a reputable university." While I spoke, Jiwoo just sat there, smiling in the most irritating way possible. "Then, they need to have a good profession, like being a lawyer or a doctor. And, oh, they should also have at least 7 figures in their bank account."

"I see," Jiwoo said, still smiling. "Why'd you date that Gold-Digging Mofu guy on your phone then?"

Fuck! I'd totally forgotten that he knew about JM. But I was not about to admit defeat!

"I decided to scrap my rules about relationships when I came back here, so I dated someone like him," I said, not breaking eye contact." But look at how that turned out: I got scammed for half a million pesos. That's why I'm never dating anyone less privileged than me ever again."

Rachel came back with our third course for the evening. It had all the appearance of baked Alaska. But why on earth was Chef Maxwell serving us dessert at that point in the dinner? Rachel poured some rose wine on top of the dish before setting it on fire.

I took a bite, and God was I ever so wrong. The inside of the baked Alaska was savory, with hints of sweet ham, garlicky sausage, and the intense flavor of smoked beef enveloped in rich, decadent ice cream.

The ingredients were pretty easy to guess, but Jiwoo beat me to it.

"That's right again, Monsieur Jiwoo. This is our take on baked Alaska, but instead of sweetness, we went for savory flavors."

"Looks like it's my turn again," Jiwoo said smugly, our previous conversation already seemingly forgotten.

"Fine."

"Did you enjoy our kiss back then?"

It was the baked Alaska's turn to shoot out of my mouth. I silently cursed myself for not knowing how to control my emotions. With Jiwoo asking such provoking questions, I was slowly getting defeated.

I took a gulp of water and wiped the crumbs off my plate. Jiwoo chuckled at me teasingly.

"No," I said flatly. The memories of that night flooding back triggered my anger.

"That's not how I remembered it," Jiwoo said. "C'mon, you agreed to answer truthfully, and I won this round fair and square."

I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn't lose to him. He was not worth it.

He smirked with extreme confidence. "If you want me to, I'll do it again so you can properly recall how you reacted."

I took a deep breath before saying, "If the price is cheaper than what you offered me last time, then maybe I will." Jiwoo's smile instantly vanished, so I pressed on. "50,000? I don't think you'd sell for that much. I'd say fucking you is worth around 5,000—max."

Jiwoo kept quiet, but he did not take his eyes off mine. And I did not back down, either.

Gabriel came to clear our table, followed closely by Rachel who served us the prettiest washoku dish I had ever seen. I immediately devoured it in an effort to beat Jiwoo in naming the ingredients.

"This is clearly ootoro, or the fattiest belly portion of the tuna," I said. "There is vermicelli infused with sesame oil and, of course, shaved truffles. This has to be the most expensive dish of the evening!"

Rachel smiled. "You are right, monsieur. The black truffles were imported directly from France. You have correctly named every single element of the dish."

Jiwoo didn't say anything and sipped on his champagne instead.

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

He slowly placed his glass back on the table.

"I told you I was angry."

"What the fuck, Jiwoo? You kissed me in front of everybody and told them you'd be willing to fuck me for money! And you're telling me you did that simply because you were angry?"

He didn't respond.

a month, you'd fuck me whenever I want. For 50,000 a month, you promised to pretend you love me so I'd feel

BJ. I really

and hailing a taxi outside. "You really think I'm that

got up from his seat. "I

to hear it. Gabriel cleared our table, and Rachel served the next dish. I wasn't finished with my burst of

know what, forget it," I said as I sat back down. "I'm not interested in that anymore.

silence. The dish was rather plain, though: a single huge wonton served with a bamboo straw. Rachel instructed us to pierce the

hot—it was warm and pleasing to

broth prepared using mirepoix and added to a broth made from lobster shells,"

with a

finishing the giant wonton before

it looked like

have I done to you to deserve that kind of humiliation?" I said before I could stop myself. I

sorry, BJ. I didn't mean

what you did, is there? It was simply all in your nature as

if I tell you the

decide that." I subconsciously raised my voice

said, also raising his. "You really

I don't want to know why," I

hands were

That's nothing to you, right? You always pay for cocks anyway. Why not pay me instead? I'm the hottest guy you could ever get!

pay that JM guy again? My rates are way cheaper! And I'm going to act like

night. It's not like I wanted to memorize his words—it was just difficult forgetting something so revolting. Being accused that way was akin to being told that I don't deserve a

it looked as though he had calmed down

you," he said

"What?"

you. But I didn't understand

"Bullshit!"

poorly. I figured you weren't going to believe

at riling me up. "You already humiliated me, and now you're

"I'm sorry."

back this time with a trolley. They cleared the table

second looked like a piece of hash

Rachel

of all three were amazing, but I couldn't completely enjoy them as I was still

came

jalapeno peppers. The one next to it is fried green tomatoes with basil mayonnaise. The last dish is a cherry

monsieur. You guessed all the ingredients

to answer. There was no point in asking any more questions. Jiwoo was

want to watch a movie with

"No."

"My treat?"

"Not interested."

came to serve our seventh dish: three mini burgers. They were so delicious yet so small that I found myself craving for more. It must have been a technique Chef Maxwell used to prepare us for the next dishes to come. The ingredients were also pretty easy to guess, but I didn't care about the stupid game

"Oh, and the bread is brioche. The second one is ground turkey on a ciabatta

it? The bread is sourdough. I can taste both mozzarella and brie.

the dinner coming right up," Rachel

like to come to our

"Is that your question?"

invitation, but it's still a question,

I'm saying

there any explanation that would be acceptable for

this guy! He was now making it look like I had

a homophobic piece of shit so you hate

you," Jiwoo said, his voice barely audible despite the quiet atmosphere in the restaurant. "I thought I hated you for winning that challenge. I thought I

champagne. Rachel then came with an exquisite lobster dish. Neither I nor Jiwoo acknowledged it, and she seemed

it wasn't you I hated but the

"I don't believe that."

never expected you to," Jiwoo replied. "I just need a