“Why not, Oppa?” he replies with a glint in his eye that makes me short circuit. Then I want to tell my client their appointment is canceled so I can drag him back into the break room, because does he have any idea what the fuck he just called me?
“What's wrong? That’s a thing isn’t it? Wootek Oppa?”
I swallow thickly but my tongue still feels dry when I talk. “Y—yeah.”
“Would you preferold man?”
“No but…”But I want you to keep calling me Oppa until the end of fucking time.“Oppa isn’t the right word.”
Carey stands, looking at me, confused. “Doesn’t it mean older brother?”
“A—a… Amongst other things.”
“What other things?”
Don’t do it, Tek. Don’t tell him. Don’t make it worse.“It doesn’t matter.”
I step back because this conversation needs to endnow.But Carey just takes his phone out of his back pocket to find the answer out for himself.
“—It’s the feminine," I blurt out. “I mean, it’s what girls use.”
He smirks. “I should probably look into things a bit harder next time.”
“Yeah, cause, you know? Things have multiple meanings.”Goddamn it, Wootek. Just walk the fuck away.
Carey’s fingers tap against his phone screen and I just stand there watching him.
I know what he’s looking up.
I know I’m digging my own grave.
I know I have a client who is watching this whole thing unravel, but I just can’t deny myself his reaction when he finds out.
“What?” he snorts, his free hand smacking against his stomach.
The stomach I wish was mine; that I could have free access to whenever I want.
“Fuck. I just called you my boyfriend.”
The words hit both of us, and for a microsecond, everything in the shop stands still.
My client—one of Eden’s bookings—coughs in an attempt to suppress a laugh. He catches Carey’s eye, and grins, causing Carey to let out a chuckle of his own, pitched higher than usual, which immediately morphs into a groan.
“God. Holy shit.” He shakes his head and, thank Christ, he is the one to turn away.
Backing up, I take a seat one down from my client and chat with him there for a while because it’s what feels the safest for me right now, even though the temptation is so damn strong to tell him to just fuck off so I can push Carey up against thewall and see how far he’ll let me go in the name of cultural misunderstandings.
But I stay strong.
I have to.
I need to.
Carey Novakdoes not want to kiss me.
Carey Novakdoes not want to fuck me.
Carey Novakis the—far too young for me—little brother of my best friend…
