A Private Drink with a Girl Seven Years Younger
Truth be told, I'd wanted to stop by home for a minute.
I hadn't planned on going out for dinner tonight, so I'd shown up to work in shorts, a T-shirt, and even slippers.
When I said I'd just swing by the house real quick, Jeong Yesol gave my outrageously casual outfit a once-over with her eyes.
"Let's just go. It's hot out anyway — this is nice and cool."
She insisted she was fine with it and pushed for a quick departure. From her expression, she genuinely didn't care.
Of course, the problem was that I cared more than Yesol did. She was dressed so beautifully, and I looked like a slob.
But Yesol started walking ahead as if even this delay was a waste of time, so I had no choice but to follow.
And just like that, the two of us found ourselves sitting across from each other at a pasta place famous for its bread-bowl cream pasta.
I hadn't even known a place like this existed nearby — a pasta specialty restaurant about a leisurely fifteen-minute walk from the dojang.
Things started out awkward.
The moment we left the dojang, my confidence around women dropped by about half. On top of that, every other customer I could see was either a group of women or a couple… I wasn't used to spaces like this, which only made me more tense.
Gulp, gulp…
My throat was dry, so I kept draining my water glass.
But I wasn't as inexperienced with women as I used to be, and even someone like me was about ninety-nine percent sure what this was. So I steered us into ordinary conversation, the way we had when we'd sat in the dojang office drinking Americanos.
"Come to think of it, exams aren't completely over yet, right? Are you doing okay on your end?"
Fortunately, Yesol seemed to have been waiting for exactly that — she answered right away.
"Yes. They're just general-ed courses, so it's fine. I'm confident, and today Oppa gave me that nutritional supplement, so already… yeah. My condition already feels amazing."
As she said it, she lightly stroked her lower belly, and for a second I thought I was going to lose my mind from how hot that was.
Conscious of the little glass bottle still in my pocket — the one I'd brought just in case — I kept the conversation going.
"Good luck on the rest of your exams. I'll be rooting for you."
"Thank you."
"By the way, this place… uh, looking at the prices, it's pretty steep. Just let me get it. As a congratulations for doing well on your exams."
"The fact that I did well on my exams is all the more reason for me to treat you. I'm definitely paying here."
"Then next time I'll buy you a drink. That okay? Even just to celebrate us dropping the formalities and getting closer, I want to treat you to something."
"…That sounds nice. I'll enjoy it, Oppa."
"I'm the one who'll enjoy the meal. Thanks, Yesol."
"……."
At my calling her "Yesol," her cheeks flushed red.
Watching that absurdly cute gap in her demeanor, I wanted to dig my heels in and pay for everything myself — but after years of intermittent coaching from Jaemin, I knew that was never the right answer. When it came to relationships with women, I might not know the correct move, but I'd at least grown the ability to avoid the wrong ones.
Anyway, that little exchange dissolved the awkward atmosphere, and while we were chatting warmly the food arrived.
The bread-bowl cream pasta I'd been craving, Yesol's pick of seafood risotto, and a small Margherita pizza on the side.
Lately I'd been eating greasy food a little more often, but now I actually welcomed it.
My body feels like it's gotten too ridiculously fit because of the treadmill. I need to put a little fat on it.
Cheat day or not, if I pulled just one or two more solid pieces of workout equipment including the treadmill, I figured I could eat nothing but this stuff three meals a day and still live healthy — without killing my muscle, either.
I tore off a piece of the bread from the cream pasta I'd been looking forward to, dipped it in the sauce inside, and took a bite.
And I was stunned.
"……!! What is this? This is actually amazing."
"Heh… I told you. This place is famous for its bread-bowl cream pasta."
"Still, I didn't think it'd be this good. To think there's a place like this near my house… I could come every week."
"Is it okay to eat like this every week? I've heard people who work out control their diets really strictly."
"I'm not exactly an athlete, so it's fine. Of course I'll have to train harder to match what I eat, but that's literally just a matter of working out. You've got to eat good food to live."
It was far better than I'd expected. I wasn't exaggerating — it was good enough that I genuinely thought I could come every week.
What I'd said after was sincere, too. Even if I didn't have the dojang system and those broken workout machines, once I'd tasted something this good I would have trained harder just so I could eat it more often.
The bread still held its heat, with that perfect crispy-outside, soft-inside texture, and the cream was just rich enough without being greasy. And the pasta noodles themselves were no joke…
"But can you come here alone? This is a couple's paradise. I thought you said you couldn't eat alone at places like this."
"…Does delivery not work?"
"I don't think they do delivery here. And pasta — especially bread-bowl cream pasta — tastes better when you come eat it in person."
"That's true… if you got this delivered at home it'd be pretty sad…"
I was disappointed. Chewing on the springy pasta that was making my mouth so happy only made me more so. The noodles were delicious too.
Famous, expensive places had their reasons — not always, but this one was the real deal.
Watching me openly pine over it, Yesol said lightly, almost in passing:
"When you get a craving, just text me. I'll come with you."
She'd claimed she was hungry, yet she hadn't even touched the risotto in front of her. Chin propped on one hand, she was smiling and looking only at me — telling me to call her anytime.
"…Would that really be okay?"
"Yes. It's okay."
"……."
"……."
I locked eyes with Jeong Yesol.
Her face came into focus — a soft smile, as if she found the sight of me eating pasta pleasant and endearing.
Even that delicious bread-bowl cream pasta vanished from my attention in an instant.
Half a step forward…
No. It was already more than that.
I was sure of it.
Our relationship had already begun.
It was unmistakably a great restaurant.
And yet from the middle onward I couldn't have told you what the pasta tasted like, or whether I was even full, by the time we finished and stepped outside.
We were about to stop by a nearby café as planned when Yesol made a new suggestion.
"Oppa. Instead of a café, want to get a drink? I'll cover half."
I felt pathetic for not having brought it up first, but right then I was too busy with my heart pounding to feel any self-loathing about it.
"Drinks sound great. My treat."
"No, I—"
"I want to buy. Let's go."
Squeeze…
"…Okay."
I took Yesol's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I had no idea where the courage came from. Somehow it just felt like the thing to do, and Yesol didn't pull away. She only walked a little closer at my side, a curve still soft at the corners of her mouth.
Hand in hand, we went looking for a place to drink.
But—
"I'm so sorry! We don't have any seats right now…"
"Apologies. We're fully booked — if you leave a number we can help with a reservation…"
"It'd be a two-hour wait!"
It was Saturday evening, and every place was full.
We hadn't discussed it beforehand, but of course neither of us was looking for a samgyeopsal joint. We wanted somewhere with a little more atmosphere — the kind of stylish spot a flirting couple or actual couple might walk into — and every single one was packed.
"I figured it'd be like this on a weekend… but there are even fewer seats than I expected."
"You don't go out much?"
"We don't really go to places like this for department gatherings. And otherwise I don't even like drinking that mu— …ah."
"So you don't like drinking."
"…I don't hate it. It's just… I'm fine."
Yesol hastily gathered up the words she'd let slip. But it wasn't exactly an important detail. I already knew she hadn't suggested drinks because she wanted alcohol — it was an excuse to spend more time together. Still, it was the first I'd heard that she wasn't much of a drinker.
I'd have to remember that.
Anyway, the real issue was that we had nowhere to go.
A meat place was definitely not it, though… Ah!
"Yesol. Is there anywhere decent near your place? Want to just head that way and drink there?"
"That's way too far. Let's just eat around here."
"It's far, which is exactly why it's better. I'd worry about you getting home after drinking, too. If you don't usually drink much, the taxi ride won't feel great either. We go, we drink, and I'll walk you home."
Personally, I thought it was a perfect plan. There'd be more seats than in a college neighborhood, and it was solid consideration for Yesol.
"……."
But Yesol didn't seem keen on my suggestion. She sank into thought for a moment, then opened her mouth.
"Instead of that, maybe we should just wait for a reservation at the first place we tri—"
Whether she didn't want to leave this area or simply preferred waiting at the first spot we'd checked, Yesol suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Something must have occurred to her — her eyes widened a little. Her cheeks and ears flushed a deeper red.
In that state, she spoke again.
"…Oppa."
"Yeah?"
"There aren't any seats anyway… could we just drink at your place?"
"…Huh?"
"We grab drinks from a convenience store… what do you think? If it's not an imposition."
"………I'm… fine with it, but…?"
"Then let's go."
Huh?
"…Payment complete. Thank y— grrk… you. Have a nice evening."
"Yep. Thanks for your hard work."
"……."
We bought drinks and snacks at the convenience store in front of my building.
It was a place I went often, so I deliberately ignored the familiar male part-timer staring at me with eyes full of betrayal.
On the other hand, my shoulders lifted a little. That was the look of a guy envying the presence of Yesol glued right to my side — the girl who'd said, Get whatever Oppa likes. Snacks Oppa likes, too. I'm fine with anything.
On the way home from the convenience store:
"Oppa, hang on a second. I forgot something — I'll run back and grab it."
"What is it? I'll come with you."
"No, it's fine. I'll be right back on my own."
"Alright. I'll wait."
Yesol went back into the convenience store and bought something.
"Okay, let's go."
I didn't ask what it was. It might have been some embarrassing feminine product.
We headed straight home.
Beep, beep, beep, beep… ding-a-ling!
"Come on in."
"Pardon the… intrusion."
Praying we wouldn't run into Yuna, I brought a tense Yesol inside.
I did worry a little — would something look off to a woman's eyes? Would it look dirty?
"It's cleaner than I expected… really clean."
"Yeah?"
"Did you do a deep clean?"
"Not really. I just like cleaning and organizing, so it probably looks that way. I don't keep a lot of stuff around either."
"Hmm…"
Seeing Yesol's surprised reaction let me relax. I'd never been prouder of my usual fondness for tidying and cleaning than in that moment.
"May I use the bathroom? I'd like to wash my hands."
"Make yourself at home."
A little later, after seating Yesol by the low table once she came out of the bathroom, I went in myself.
"…Doesn't even feel like my own bathroom anymore."
Somehow it already felt like Yesol's scent was filling the whole apartment.
With a restless heart I quickly brushed my teeth. We were going to eat more anyway, but I didn't want anything weird showing at a glance. After a fast rinse with mouthwash, I stepped back out.
"……."
When I emerged, Yesol was sitting demurely, looking around the apartment here and there. It was a little embarrassing, but not in a bad way.
I gathered plates, utensils, and cups and sat down across from her. As I started setting out what we'd bought on the table—
"……."
Without a word, Yesol stood up from her seat and moved to sit beside me. Close enough that our arms brushed.
"I find it easier to talk like this."
"…Honestly, same."
In a situation that was basically already dating, some people might have found this kind of coy testing of the waters frustrating. But for me, every single one of these little moments was simply too good.
So this is what dating tastes like — I was feeling it for the first time at twenty-seven, getting endlessly drunk on the emotion.
And so Jeong Yesol and I, in my apartment, began a private drinking session for just the two of us.