"Tek-ah, be calm." His mother puts her hand on his shoulder and guides him to take a step back. "That would never happen, Carey. You see, your brother is like a third son to me. And because of that, I know that he and Jintae do not get along. Iwish they would, but they are like true brothers. They do not agree."
I want to say something, anything, to apologize and insist I was joking because of course I was, but she's already moving. Already one step ahead, on to the next task. "This storm will be bad."
"It'll blizzard," Tek converses with his mother like nothing happened. Then, whatever she was cooking is off the stove, and she leaves the room altogether.
I nurse my can and look around the kitchen, trying not to notice how Tek's stare burns right through me, how his arms flex when he lifts the beer, or how the line of his jaw angles in a different way when he's annoyed at his mother, compared to when he's annoyed with me. It really isn't fair that someone can look that good while being so grumpy.
He glances at me, and even though it's obvious that I've been looking, he just empties the can and tosses it into the recycling bin with perfect aim. He looks back at me, staring for several seconds, then asks, "You wanna go to the den, or the living room?"
"I've never been here."
He nods, grabs another beer, and starts walking. I follow him down a short hall with an open study door, and into a living room that would make any designer weep. The sofa is enormous and deep, but instead of looking like something you want to collapse into, it feels like a showpiece with zero creases and throw pillows placed just right.
Tek sits on the very edge. He rests his elbows on his knees and holds the can with both hands.
I sit beside him making sure to leave a large enough gap so he doesn't question my intentions. "Nice house," I say for lack of anything better.
He doesn’t answer right away, just watches the flicker of the fake log gas fire on the far wall. “My mother likes it. But my Appa says it's too big.” He glances over. “He’ll be in the garage. He won’t come out again until the food's ready.”
The fire makes soft clicks as the gas kicks back in, and I watch the way the light hits Tek's cheekbones; the shadows shifting when he looks down at his hands. There's a moment when I want to reach out and touch him, just to see if he feels as tense as he looks. But I don’t, because that would be weird.
"You don't have to be the nice guy all the time. If you feel like I forced you here you don't have to stay."
“I wanna be here,” I say, maybe a little too quickly. “I'm just scared of saying something wrong.”
He looks at me, and this time, he actually smiles. “You couldn’t mess up if you tried.”
I almost say,Wanna bet?but the moment passes.
Tek stands. “Let's go to the den. It's too stuffy in here.”
We move down the stairs to the lower level. It's cooler, but in a refreshing way. The den is lined with wooden boards that have been painted white. There's a pool table, sofas that look like you're supposed to sit in them, and a bar—but instead of bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind it, it's stacked with trophies.
"Hapkido?" I ask, pointing in their direction with my beer.
"Yeah. But they're mostly my brother's."
"He's a lot smaller than you, though," I say, recalling the pictures from the entry.
"But he killed it in competition. It's not always about being the biggest. The kid's wiley as fuck." Reaching for a pool cue, he picks it up and tosses me another. "You any good?"
I roll a few balls towards the rack. "I can fake it."
With the balls in place Tek lines up to break, but stops, and looks me dead on. "You don't have to fake anything, Carey."
My stomach tightens.
That sounds like a challenge. It would be if I'd said it.
Tek breaks, and the crack of the balls snaps me out of my spiraling.
I'm being stupid.
He was just being nice. He's treating me like a younger brother.
I'm better at pool than I alluded to and Tek catches on quickly.
After a while, I say, “Thanks for having me over.”
