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She exhales, the sound she makes between a sigh and a sob. Throwing a sideway glance at the bottle of soju, she says, “I’m assuming you grabbed two glasses because one is for me? Pour me a drink.”

“Aren’t Americans known for their manners?” I quip, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Where is the ‘please Jin-tae’?”

“Please Jin-tae, will you pour me a drink… it might help keep me from kneeing you in the balls again for what you pulled last night!”

“You meanafteryou attempted to escape? Trust me when I say, Tokki-ya, you got off easy.” I’m fully smirking now as I do as she wishes, pouring both glasses with the clear liquid known as soju. I hand the first glass over to her and keep the second for myself. “Most get their throat sliced open for trifling with me. You should feel special.”

“Oh, really?” She downs the glass of soju like it’s a shot, tossing it back whole.

“Yes, really.” I do the same, drinking my down fast, then snatching her glass from her grasp. I refill both of ours from the bottle, the crisp taste of the liquor on my tongue. She readily accepts her second glass.

“So I should be grateful you didn’t kill me?”

I think on her question a second. “Yes.”

“You give the most backwards compliments. You know that, right?”

“No worse than you telling me my place is neat but barren.”

“It is! Ever heard of hanging stuff on the walls?”

“Why would I hang something on the wall?” I ask plainly. “Decorations are a waste of time.”

“Most people like their home space to reflect their tastes.”

“This apartment does reflect my tastes. Simple and functional.”

“Andbarren.” Her dark eyes glitter as she sips more slowly from her second glass, fully aware how flirty she’s being, even despite her tears a few minutes ago.

I decide to play into it for an inexplicable reason even I don’t know. It’s unlike me. Another thing only Monroe seems to stir.

“Should I put up movie posters like you? Mood boards? Art pieces of flowers and gardens? Some candles? Plants? Would you like to redecorate my apartment, Tokki-ya?”

“I just might one of these days while you’re out! You’ll come home and everything will be pink and frilly.”

“You do that. See what kind of punishment I have for you.”

She finishes the last few swallows of her second glass and then slams down the glass on the coffee table, stepping toward me until we’re inches apart. “You say punishment like I’m supposed to be intimidated.”

My pulse beats faster. I pick up on the heat flushing through her. It’s like bait to a predator like me. A little rabbit wandering into the clearing where a tiger lurks.

“You say that now, Tokki-ya. But what will you say when I make that round ass of yours so sore you can’t sit down for days?”

“Have you forgotten the part about me kneeing you in the balls again?”

“Are you going to try? Go on, Tokki-ya. I’ll give you five seconds to try. I won’t even stop you.”

“Like I’m going to fall for that trap!” she scoffs, notching hands on both hips. “Next thing I know you’ll have my shirt slashed open and your knife on my throat again.”

“And the next thing you know you’ll also be soaking wet again,” I remind, looming closer. I let my lips graze hers, tasting the light trace of soju. “Just like last night.”

Indignance flashes in Monroe’s dark gaze, her eyes shrinking into slits for a brief second. She’s stuck between complicatedemotions like anger and frustration and something else that seems to crash over her and then take control—lust.

As she goes from being offended by my words, she grips at my shirt and pulls my mouth down on top of hers. She greedily kisses me, silencing any further discourse between us. I’m only caught off guard for the first half second before I’m matching her energy, grabbing the side of her throat and holding her in place.

Kissing has always been a tedious, laborious endeavor. It’s always seemed like a waste of time when sex was a matter of human function. It was about relieving a basic need and then moving on.

I’ve never enjoyed the activity, instead finding it more unnecessary than anything.