Chapter 19: Love Allergy

I think the most logical choice is to be with Suho. After thinking about what Sehun said and what everything happened, I realize that no one will be upset over that. Yeonjun will get his information about Suho's plans. I won't hurt Sehun's feelings even more in the process. Suho seems understanding enough to know that I can't fall in love with him right away, and as much as Yeonjun and Sehun claim that Suho is no good, I don't think you can base everything on the past. Maybe, I'm a bit of a sucker for optimism, but I think Suho deserves a chance. I'd like to know him better rather than throw away this relationship directly. 

This is why I meet up with Suho for a romantic French dinner. I'm dressed to be visually appealing, meaning that I'm wearing a pair of black stilettos and a tight fitting, black dress that supposedly shows off my curves. Luckily, this one is cut well enough that my stomach fat is disguised. Thank god we're not at the point where he has to unclothe me. I'd need to turn off the lights at that point.

Now, as I'm sitting at a round table, waiting for Suho arrive, I feel the jitters bubbling in my stomach. After saying yes to Suho, then what comes next? Am I supposed to hug or kiss him? What if he takes me back to his place after dessert and then wants me to stay overnight? I'm not ready for that. How would I say no in that case? Is it rude to reject his offer? I mean, he should respect my feelings, but then, I should respect his too. Argh. What do I--

"Hello," Suho utters before sitting across from me.

"Ah!" I jump up and back away in my seat.

"Wh-what?" Suho chuckles slyly. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"Oh! No!" I tell him. "It's just that . . . I didn't expect you here so early. I thought you said you had to finish up some last minute . . ."

Suho smiles kindly while opening the menu. "Oh that," he answers. "I finished it faster just so I could be on time." Then, he looks up and gives me a warm grin.

Immediately, I mutter, "That's good."

"Anyhow," Suho closes the menu and brings his full attention on me, "enough about me. You said you had something to tell me?"

"R-r-r-right . . ." My palms are feeling particularly clammy, and my throat too is getting rather dry. I can't believe it's so hard to voice my decision aloud. It's not as if I'm actually confessing to him right? He already confessed to me. I'm just giving him an answer. 

"It's okay," he informs me. "You can tell me later. Let's . . . order then?"

"Y-y-y-yeah, that'll be good."

Suho manages to order everything in what seems to be fluent French. I have to say when he says French, it's like those hot models finally talking on the runway. My heart is beating hard. I know I shouldn't be so easily influenced, but a man speaking some foreign language just makes me all giddy. It's one of those pretty darn sexy things. Damn . . . that Suho.

"Is something wrong?" he asks once he is done ordering.

"It's nothing. Aha," I awkwardly answer. I can't exactly tell him what I've been thinking right? That's a bit too excessive.

Sadly, Suho continues to press on: "Really? You were kind of . . . frowning at me."

"Ah . . . I was just thinking," I blab.

"Oh really?" Suho somehow sounds British. Maybe, I've been listening to him speak French that he's turning more and more foreign. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

I gulp down some saliva, hoping that it'll make my embarrassment go away. "No," I croak. "it's nothing important."

"Mmm . . ."

Suho's indecisive tone makes me feel extremely guilty, and by the way he is looking at me like some abandoned puppy, I feel even worse that I'm trying to cover up some stupid lie. Darn that Suho. Honestly . . . f.uck this.

"Okay," I slap my cloth napkin onto my lap and explain, "I just thought it was pretty cool that you could speak French."

"Oh. That."

"Yes . . . that."

Just as I'm sipping some water, Suho purposely adds, "I thought you were . . . thinking that it was sexy."

I spit out all my water straight into the middle of the table. Yeah, I know. Gross. Really low class at this high class restaurant. Makes me feel like someone should be feeding me hot dogs instead. Even the waiter that walked by our table gives me this glare. Yeah, another table cloth for him to wash. Darn his life. Sorry man.

Because I feel rather humiliated, I shift the basket of bread towards the middle to cover up my little puddle. Suho bursts out laughing at my reaction, making me snap, "Wh-wh-what? I'm trying to make things better."

"It's okay. Carry along. It's funny," he notes.

I sort of sink in my seat, wishing that I could be more elegant. I guess clothes don't make the gal, and it doesn't help that Suho's ring tone happens to be "I'm sexy and I know it" by LMFAO. The two of us sort of stare at each other and begin to crack up because of the perfect music. Still chuckling away, Suho walks away to answer his call. When he comes back, he apologizes and says that it was his secretary. 

"Oh . . . it's fine," I utter.

"Well, my secretary is 50 years old and has two sons."

I let out a quiet laugh. "I never imagined a hot secretary for you."

"What?" he scoffs. "I don't deserve a good looking co-worker?"

"Well, I'm glad she is older and is taken."

"I'm also taken too, you know," Suho declares.

"Oh really?" I tease. "That was faster than I expected."

"Well, I'm rather taken away by you," Suho manages to say without even a hint of embarrassment. Meanwhile, I'm choking on some bread because I'm stupid enough to decide to munch away. I should really know by now that I'm just going to make a fool out of myself if I eat in front of Suho. Honestly, I didn't expect him to be so upfront about the whole thing. I mean, he was a shy guy to start with, but now, he's so . . . suave. Is he giving me his full attack? The last chance at a fight? He really doesn't need to fight though . . . I already made up my mind. "Sorry," Suho now adds. "that was . . . cheesy, but . . . I thought I'd give it a try. Read somewhere that--"

"I-i-it's okay," I mumble, hoping that my cheeks aren't that red. Then, I take the chance to say what I've been meaning to tell him: "So . . . my friend . . . she decided to go with the new guy."

Suho quickly beams a great smile, but that fades away within an instant. "I'm kind of surprised she'd decide so quickly," he remarks. "Are you sure she is serious about this decision or is she just being hasty? Did the other guy do something to push her in this direction?"

I want to lie to Suho, but I'm sick of being a liar. Look at what happened when I started trying to cover for one lie? I couldn't keep track of everything I said, and Yeonjun and I are barely any friends anymore. Okay . . . we're not on speaking terms for sure. Whatever. You lose some. You gain some.

"Yeah, he did. He didn't want to be her friend anymore," I notify.

"Why not?"

I shrug my shoulders, answering, "Who knows?"

"Oh, but I'm sure she actually knows," Suho points out as the waiter brings us our appetizers, which consist of green salad, cinnamon foie gras, marinated mushrooms and mussels. "She just doesn't want to admit it."

"What do you mean?" I wonder while staring at the plate of mussels. I've never been a fan of mussels, but Suho is using a fork and a spoon to place a few onto my plate. I can't exactly say no, so I thank him instead.

As Suho serves himself, he replies, "I actually think it's not that he didn't want to be her friend anymore. Rather, she's tired of being his friend. She wants more, but he can't give her what she wants. So, she settles with the other guy who is there for her. He's the rebound."

"I'm sorry," I blab all of a sudden before taking a bite from my mussel.

Suho welcomes me with a smile, stating, "What? I wasn't even talking about you. Haha. And I'm sure the other guy knows. He knows his place, and he's fine with it."

"And why is that?" I wonder.

"Because it's not like she's going to love that friend forever," Suho utters. "Love changes, and love doesn't mean everything." At the end of his sentence, I feel my cheeks become super, super itchy, so itchy that I'd like to claw my face off. As I pinch the side of my face with my fingers, Suho asks, "What's wrong? Your face is really . . . red. Is it something that you--"

"My face is driving me crazy," I cut him off. "I think I'm breaking out. In hives. Can you just kill me?"

"No, I can't kill you," Suho laughs, "but I can take you to the hospital."

"Okay. Save me then."

I don't know what's wrong with Suho and me. Every time I'm with him, I somehow bring some disaster upon the two of us. This is the second time he has to take me to a hospital. We might as well hold our dates nearby, or I should bring a first aid kit with me. Who knew I'd be allergic to mussels? Huh? Maybe that's why I never liked them at first sight? I knew they'd be wrong for me. Is that how love works too then? I can decide who isn't right for me immediately? Or do I have to taste it to confirm my first impressions?

Well, I'm trying it out with Suho, so I guess I'll know soon enough if we're meant to be together. That . . . sounds reasonable, and like Suho said, love changes. Love isn't everything.