In Love With My Rival

Jaewook's POV 2

I've been in this meeting for the past hour and there are no signs of it ending. The production schedule is still undecided, and it's getting messier. It takes another hour to set up a date for a table read and end the call. By this time, my head feels like it's split into a thousand little pieces.

I swallow two large painkillers before opening her recent article (The Merits of Critiquing Popular Genres) and laugh out loud.

‘Glad to be your muse,’ I text her. It’s been a week since we met at the mixer where she insulted my literary taste and then got drunk over two glasses of champagne. I’ve been looking for reasons to talk to her since then. Not because she is a pleasant person — quite the opposite, actually. But her snobbish personality makes it so much fun to talk to her. It helps that she is easy on the eyes. Ok, that’s an understatement. She is a treat.

‘I can take inspiration from bees if I have to,’ she fires back two minutes later.

‘I’d like to be of more use.’ I’m probably aiming too high, but it’s been a tiring morning, and I could use some unwinding. She sends me the location of a cafe 40 minutes away from my hotel.

‘Won’t wait for more than 10 minutes. I’m feeling generous.’

‘Start waiting after 40 minutes. I won’t make you wait.’

She is already there when I reach, looking around impatiently in an orange top so bright, it actually hurts the eyes. The white upper is probably meant to minimize the impact, but it’s failing. She has already ordered, which annoys me for some reason.

‘The sun is bad enough, you know,’ I tell her, scraping out a chair. She rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her drink.

‘You can take off your sunglasses unless you mean to look ridiculous.’

‘I might go blind. Did you order early to kick your brain awake?’

‘I came here for this.’ She takes another sip, and I sit down beside her. Our knees touch. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t even look away.

‘What did you order exactly? Smells of vanilla,’ I sniff her drink and make a face.

‘It’s a cappuccino.’ She snatches it back, and I laugh.

‘So the fierce and bold Farah Sohail is not just a lightweight, but also wears bright orange tops and likes vanilla cappuccinos. You are disappointing me at every turn.’

‘I’m happy to serve.’

‘Really? You’re too willing, too soon,’ I lower my voice and lean forward. She sinks back in her chair, smirking.

‘Your eagerness is showing.’

‘I never meant to hide it.’

‘That’s a shame. I might have found that cute.’

‘I’m not aiming for cute, though.’

‘Oh, so you mean to be off-putting.’

‘You wouldn't be here if I put you off Vanilla,’ I say, a little too cocky. She scoffs but the twinkle in her eyes is too attractive to miss. She's already done with her drink and orders another just as I order an espresso.

‘Wannabe,’ she tsks.

‘For getting espresso?’

‘For trying to curate an image. You are too scared to drink something nice,’ she informs me.

‘Oh please. That's rich coming from the person who pretends to hate romance.’

‘I don’t hate romance, it’s just not real. It’s a concept.’

‘All this tells me is you’ve never been in love. Or worse, you haven't allowed yourself to,’ I say lightly, but something in her eyes tells me I’ve hit too low. She recovers instantly, though.

‘How many women have you wooed for you to be such a strong supporter? All this tells me is you like to play around.’ Her voice is honey. Ouch.

‘I won't comment. I don't want to upset you,’ I continue prodding her. This time she laughs.

‘Someone’s cocky. A long string of names probably means you're insufferable.’

‘You don’t ever back down, do you?’ I smirk obnoxiously.

‘You don’t ever back off, do you?’ She stands up. ‘I’m tired, though. Bye.’

‘When am I seeing you again?’

‘Hopefully, never. I’ve already wasted enough time on you.’

‘They resulted in an article, I won’t call it a waste.’

‘Of course, you won’t. Bye, no pleasure.’ She leaves before I can say anything. She always walks away with the last word.