Read Online Love Love by Sung J. Woo - Free Book Online Page B

other end of the room, the table next to the fireplace. He sat her down, pushed in her chair, then took a seat himself.
    â€œI asked the waitress if we could start over,” he said.
    The light from the fire flickered orange, bronzing the right side of his face. For a moment he looked like a statue, never to move again, and Judy froze, too, wanting to be a part of this stable, dependable universe of his.
    You could never start over. You could never take back the things that happened or the words you said. But she appreciated his gesture, even if she feared it was foolish.
    S he had her martini, then she had another, and two more after that. She wanted to get drunk. Was it because she was happy? Or was it because she was sad? Or was it because she wanted to go home with him, for after four drinks, she had trouble standing up, never mindgetting behind the wheel? Way to go, Judy, way to play hard to get. Why couldn’t she just be like everybody else and have a normal date, one that didn’t require a table change because she’d said such awful, mean things to this nice man?
    She didn’t know. And after finishing her dish of crème brûlée, the creamy sweetness lingering on her tongue, Roger, ever the gentleman, told her he’d drop her off at her house.
    â€œThat’s very kind of you,” she said slowly, trying to keep her words from sliding into one another. “But maybe you should take me to your place.”
    â€œAre you sure?” he asked. “I mean, you’re . . . I just want to make sure this is what you want.”
    â€œI’m what?” she asked playfully. “Drunk? Is that what you wanted to say?”
    Roger cleared his throat. “Well, yes, you do seem a little tipsy.”
    â€œYou think so,” she said, then added, “Roger?” On paper, it was a stupid-looking name, making her think of Mr. Rogers and his cardigan, but saying it was a different experience. The first syllable opened up her mouth in full, then it tapered down to a sensuous pout of her lips. Rah-jur, Rah-jur, Rah-jur! It was a muscular name, a sexy name.
    Maybe she was drunker than she thought.
    The check came, and Roger took out two one-hundred-dollar bills. Judy picked one up and stared at Benjamin Franklin, who stared back at her with a hint of a smirk. She remembered reading somewhere that he’d been a bad boy in his time, a player.
    She darted a devilish look to Roger. Or at least one she thought—she hoped—was devilish. He laughed, which was good. It was nice that she was still able to make a man laugh.
    â€œYou know,” Judy said, “just because I’m going home with you doesn’t mean we’re going to have sex.”
    â€œFair enough.”
    â€œFor all I know, I’ll just fall asleep.”
    â€œEntirely possible.”
    â€œOr maybe it’ll turn out that you have a tiny pecker.”
    It was supposed to be a joke, but instead of chuckling or retorting in an equally silly manner, he seemed embarrassed. Lord, did he have a tiny pecker? Asian men supposedly had smaller penises, though from personal experience, Judy couldn’t say. To her, whether Asian or white or black, they all looked the same, all those eager phallusesakin to annoying, know-it-all schoolchildren who thrust their hands in the air when the teacher asked a question. Me, me! Pick me, pick me!
    â€œIt’s of appropriate dimensions,” he said, and she realized his embarrassment hadn’t been for him but rather for her crude attempt at humor.
    Outside, the chilly air shrank her pleasant round buzz. Roger opened the passenger door for her, and she sank into the leather seat. As she watched him make his way around the front of his car, she considered telling him to drive her home instead. In the restaurant, behind the soothing gauze of alcohol, the night had seemed full of passion. She’d envisioned stripping for him, unbuttoning her blouse one white