by Anna Premoli
“But he gets on better with the family. I get the feeling your brother pretends to do what is expected of him, and then gets on with doing what he wants behind their backs.”
Mark looks at me with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Yes, I guess it would be easier to be like him. Never fighting for your own point of view, never trying to reason with them… But I am what I am, take it or leave it.”
“Look, I’m not taking or leaving anything. I’m just saying that you take things too seriously. You should try and be a bit less uptight, Mark.”
We leave the room and go to the kitchen, which is beautiful and equipped with all the latest technological gadgets. Not exactly the type of thing you’d expect from such a traditional family. My mother wouldn’t know how to turn on even one of these appliances.
“What exactly do you mean, Maddison?” asks Mark, taking the turkey and the potatoes from the refrigerator. He puts them to warm in the microwave – the latest NASA prototype, by the looks of it. You probably need a degree in physics just to set the timer.
I sit down on the table, swinging my legs. “Come on, you know that you’re deadly serious. You should be going out with girls, living a bit…”
He rolls his eyes, but then laughs. “What nonsense you talk sometimes,” he says good-naturedly. Then he turns abruptly towards me, as though suddenly inspired to speak. “Now that I think about it, you do say that a lot. But if you insist, we can do as you suggest. There is only one small, very small problem: you’re the only girl that I have at hand right now,” he says, looking around the kitchen.
I want to point out to him that I didn’t mean for him to radically change his life right this instant, but I don’t have time to open my mouth as Mark approaches the table and grabs me around the waist. “Do you want to be a guinea pig? Is that what you mean?” he says, lowering his voice. His eyes have a rather unusual glow in them – so unusual that my gaze remains locked onto his as I try to swallow a feeling resembling panic.
“No, no… I certainly I didn’t mean anything like that,” I say, trying to free myself from his grasp.
“What do you mean? First you make a suggestion, then you pull back?” he says, amused by my obvious discomfort. His gaze drifts towards my mouth and there it stops.
I blink a few times, swallow all the saliva that I can and try to remain calm. “Mark, let me go,” I say to him. I admit that my voice doesn’t sound at all determined.
He lifts my chin with his finger and places his hand on my neck. “You know, I’m not sure that I want to?”
His eyes are now full of extremely dangerous desire.
“Stop messing about,” I warn him, trying at least to break eye contact. But Mark does not allow me to look away, and continues to hold my face in his hand.
“Hey, look – you can’t just drop a bombshell like that and then try and wriggle your way out of it,” He challenges me. “Come on, be brave.”
Is it really necessary for two grown people to play a game of ‘chicken’ right at this exact moment?
“I give in, you’ve won, you’re the bravest,” I reply, chuckling nervously in the hope of breaking free from his grip. I suspect that my heart has been beating well above safety level for quite a while now.
“What’s the prize, then?” says Mark, with a tone full of rather dirty insinuation.
“You have won a dinner of turkey and roast potatoes – ta dah!” I say, trying to save myself.
“But I want a dessert too…” he whispers as he starts to slide his thumb down my burning cheek.
Before today I could have sworn that Mark was physiologically incapable of being seductive, but I’m starting to realize that I was wrong – big time: when he wants to, not only does he know how to make your head spin, but he also manages to make you forget who the hell you are.
I’m starting to have enough of these games.
“Stop it, Mark,” I exclaim firmly. I look annoyed. “You know that I love to mess around as much as the next guy, but this isn’t funny…”
But before I can finish my sentence, I feel him grab me around my waist. Mark lifts me up from the table until I’m standing up and pulls me towards him, and within seconds his mouth is on mine, determined and decisive. From behind us, I hear the beep of the microwave. But nobody makes a move. Part of me is completely living in the moment, the other part is watching in consternation. I can’t decide which one will prevail. The problem is that Mark kisses divinely. There are a lot of things he does the wrong way, but kissing is not one of them. His lips caress, provoke, instigate. His scent confuses me and my knees almost give way.
I have to stop this immediately – I must, but I don’t want to. Well, I must, even though at this moment in time it’s the last thing I want to do.
I try to break away from his embrace, I make a great effort to pull my mouth from his and I stare at his confused eyes. So, he is human after all.
“Mark, I don’t think we should…” I start saying, without knowing how to finish the sentence. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you how much two plus two was right now, to be honest.
“I think we should we go back to Seoul,” he says.
“Why?” I ask him, doubtfully. Does he want to get rid of me as soon as possible?
“There are too many prying eyes here. If we could spend a bit of time alone, perhaps we could clarify a few things,” he explains.
I must have misunderstood. “Are you trying to seduce me?” I exclaim. Not that the idea doesn’t appeal to me, but you should never admit it out loud.
“Considering you’re a modern western girl, sometimes you just don’t get it, do you?”
He sighs and returns to scrutinising my mouth without even trying to hide the fact.
“Who said I was modern? In some respects I am very old fashioned!” I declare, hoping to distract him.
“Maddy, Maddy, Maddy… what am I going to do with you?” he asks me. The question echoes in the empty kitchen that is now starting to heat up. I’m not sure that he’s actually expecting an answer.
“Nothing?” I suggest, doubtfully.
“Do you want to stop now?” He asks, suddenly becoming serious, as if the rest had all just been a joke.
For a few moments I try to think of an intelligent answer, but it is not easy to come up with something sensible when your hormones are jumping around like popcorn.
“It would be better…” I mumble nervously.
He puts his hands in his pockets and turns towards the microwave and switches it on again. The food will have cooled down in the meantime, better to heat it up again.
We sit at the table and eat in silence. There are some pretty strange expressions on our faces and the atmosphere is anything but relaxed.
After a few minutes we hear the sound of the front door. Tae Min joins us in the kitchen, happy and carefree.
“Hello, lovebirds,” he greets us cheerfully.
“Have you had a pleasant evening?” I ask him politely.
“Yes, predictably pleasant,” he says cryptically. He studies us carefully, looking from guilty face to guilty face. “Something tells me that yours has been more interesting than mine, though,” he smirks.
I don’t know what he might have deduced by looking at us, but Mark and I can’t help but blush.
Tae Min smiles triumphantly. “Now, now, don’t deny it.” He pinches a piece of turkey from Mark’s plate. “What I haven’t yet figured out, though, is whether you two have actually been to bed together or not. I thought so last night, but now I’m not so sure…”“
The potato I’m chewing almost chokes me and Mark slams his knife down violently on the table.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he says to his brother, a bit too angrily.
Tae Min backs off quickly – he’s smelt trouble in the air and has wisely decided that it would be better to disappear.
“Good night!” He says as he leaves the room.
“Idiot,” Mark mutters through clenched teeth
as we hear the sound of Tae Min’s footsteps going upstairs. “This is the result of the total lack of discipline my parents brought him up with.”
“Forget it,” I say, trying to calm him down. It is obvious that Tae Min loves to stir things up and Mark is an easy target.
“Maybe it’d be better if we went to bed too,” he says, observing my empty plate.
“Yes, you’re right,” I nod, getting up from the table.
We put the dishes in the dishwasher and head back upstairs where, after quickly saying good night, each of us goes off to hide in our own room. Where it’s safe.
I get undressed, put on my pyjamas and head for the bathroom. I don’t notice the light coming from under the door and march in decisively. Mark is brushing his teeth and he’s not wearing his shirt. He hasn’t seen me, which gives me the opportunity to take a good look at his broad shoulders and his slim waist. Certain temptations really put you to the test, and this one feels like one of the most difficult I’ve ever been subjected to.
I cough to make my presence felt. Mark turns his head suddenly and freezes, staring in disbelief with the toothbrush still in his hand.
“You didn’t lock the door,” I point out.
He rinses his mouth out before turning towards me. “I forgot. Seeing as I live alone I’m not used to doing it any more.”
“Sorry, I’ll leave you to it,” I whisper, trying to escape. But he grabs me by the wrist.
“I’ve finished. Stay.”
I freeze, his touch almost burning my hand. I mustn’t look at his chest, I mustn’t look at his chest, I mustn’t… Oh, to hell with it! I run my eyes over that smooth, flawless skin and I let out a sigh, despite my suffering. I must have burnt out even the last few brain cells I was convinced I still possessed.
Mark’s eyes watch me, fascinated, and I can’t look away from him. He raises his hand, undecided whether to touch me or not, but then lets it fall again with a desolate expression on his face.
Eye contact is finally broken: I make a real effort to get to the sink and he leaves the bathroom without another word. I lean on it and let out a sigh of relief. The truth is that this situation is getting out of hand. Damn Mr Lee and his decision to review the project, forcing me to spend Christmas in Korea.
At this time I could have been at my parents’ house, safe and sound.
*
The night turned out to be quite a restless one. I had some strange dreams that I can’t remember much about today, but my head feels confused and even slightly achey. It’s never promising if the first thing you think about on waking up is getting hold of a painkiller.
I dress in a hurry and go down to the Kim’s dining room for breakfast. The others are already there – all lined up in their seats.
They’re all drinking coffee, with the exception of Mark’s mother, who this morning is sipping a cup of tea.
I sense a certain heaviness in the air. They’re giving each other strange looks and the conversation is struggling to take off.
“Maddison and I have to return to Seoul as soon as possible,” Mark informs them casually. For the first time since I have known him, he has the look of someone who hasn’t slept well. I notice dark circles under his usually bright eyes.
Angrily, his mother begins to protest, but he’s adamant. “You know how important the restructuring that we are working on is. Time is of the absolute essence,” he says to justify himself. His grandmother acts as mediator and allows us to escape without further complications.
We just have time to pack our suitcases before we meet in the hall to say our goodbyes. I give his grandmother a big hug, shake hands with his parents and then we are free to leave. From the corner of my eye I notice that Tae Min whispers something in his brother’s ear before letting him go. Who knows what that’s about.
We get in the car trying to pretend that nothing has happened over the past two days, but the truth is that we’re both agitated, because there is undeniably a strange electricity between us. And my strategy from now on will be to deny it, deny it and deny it again. It usually works.
In no time at all we’re back in Seoul. The traffic is flowing as normal and the roads are as overcrowded as usual – a human river that reminds me of London. I feel a wave of nostalgia for my hometown and I daydream about being back in England. Mark parks the car and turns off the engine.
“Maddison, are you with us?” he asks, in an attempt to get my attention.
“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry,” I stutter, as I get out of the car. He opens the boot and gets our bags out. I Instinctively go for mine, but he tries to take it from me.
Out of the blue he’s suddenly insisting on carrying my luggage for me? Has he gone crazy?
“Please, I need to hold on to my certainties today,” I implore him.
He looks at me questioningly, as if he doesn’t understand what I’m going on about.
“You’ve never been considerate or gallant before, so don’t start now, please.”
His face doesn’t hide the fact that he’s offended, with the result that he decides not to insist, and after locking the car, he walks angrily towards the lift. His fast pace is proof enough that he really wants to get away from me. As though I had any doubts.
The arrival of the lift does nothing to calm my feelings of uneasiness – in fact, it increases them: tonight the little steel cubicle seems even more claustrophobic than usual. My heart is thumping so hard that I’m afraid it’s going to explode and my breathing is almost laboured. There’s something wrong with me. Or at least I hope it is something, and not someone.
I look up in the direction of Mark, who is glued to the farthest wall of the lift, his hands clenched into fists on the bar. My eyes meet his and for a moment time seems to stop. Literally. And to think that I’d always thought ridiculously melodramatic phrases like that were just bloody stupid…
The tension is broken by the doors opening. I take my eyes off him before I do something I might regret and I drag myself out of the lift. Mark is right behind me, and stops a metre away.
“Well, it has certainly been interesting. Thanks for the lovely day,” I babble, nervously. I open the door and I walk inside my flat without giving him time to reply. Tonight I feel so strange. I realize that I could really end up humiliating myself like I’ve never done before. Better to avoid the temptation altogether.
With a thud, I throw myself onto the couch, too tired to unpack my bag, and I close my eyes, hoping to erase the feelings that have a hold of me.The harsh reality is that I can’t get Mark’s face out of my mind. That’s what happens when you don’t have enough willpower. Perhaps, after all, it is better to keep your eyes open…
I remain lying down for a few minutes staring intently at something on the ceiling when I am brought back to reality by the sound of the doorbell. I know it’s him.
“What do you want?” I ask loudly, not even getting up from the couch. I have no intention of opening the door. Even my masochism has limits.
Mark doesn’t answer, but just carries on knocking. Unnerved by the sound I get up off the couch in spite of myself and open the door before I can think about what I’m doing.
“We said goodbye two minutes ago. What do you want?” I ask him again, forcing myself to sound annoyed. It’s usually fairly easy for me to sound belligerent.
Mark refuses to answer me – he seems to much prefer non-verbal communication. Who knows if a look can reveal his mysterious intentions? Not that they are really that mysterious, to be honest…
He opens the door, enters my apartment, almost pushing me inside and shuts it with a bang behind him, then takes me by the waist with both hands and pins me against the wall of the corridor. I don’t know quite how it is possible, but he somehow manages to be delicate in spite of his aggression.
Before I can even think of a valid complaint his mouth has found mine. I try not to lose myself in it, I really do, but it isn’t easy to resist the temptation that those lips offer. There is something that ma
kes his mouth and its taste different from all the others. I’ve kissed many men in the last fifteen years, but not one of them has ever made me feel so damn exhilarated, so giddy to the point that I’m just not able to think clearly. With Mark, a kiss is like a whirlpool that drags me into it, blinding me to everything else that’s happening around me. His mouth is soft and rough at the same time, methodical and lustful.
His hands explore my body without holding back, slipping under my sweater and brushing my stomach. Involuntarily, my arms have been around his neck for quite some time now, and my hands are intent on stroking his neck and his silky hair.
Without stopping, Mark lifts me off the ground and carries me over to the centre of the room.
“Maybe we should talk…” These are the only words I can manage to say, pulling my mouth away from his to catch my breath. I don’t even know whether I want to stop what has already started or just lose myself in it completely.
He presses a finger to my lips and silences me gently, with an almost hypnotic “shhhhhhh.” His hand goes back up to my cheek, stroking it with just his thumb, and his fingers then land on my lower lip, just barely touching it. Hardly aware that I’m doing it, I emit a strangled moan of bliss.
One of those rare, sincere smiles appears on Mark’s face and the idea that it was me who managed to put it there fills me with a previously unknown emotion. This time it is me who brings my face closer to his – I have to be the one who hugs him and kisses him first. All my rationality has melted away like snow in the August sun, and at this very moment I could not care less.
Neither of us hesitates, and our tongues meet in that most ancient of dances. My body betrays me, sticking to his like glue and totally refusing to let go. I feel the earth literally move beneath my feet. A very weak little voice inside me keeps telling me to stop such nonsense right away. Because it really is nonsense.
Mark picks me up easily, takes me to the bedroom and gently places me on the bed. My bedroom only has enough space for a double bed, so there is no room for escape.
“Mark…”
I try again to stop him while I’m sitting in the centre of the bed, surrounded by my sheets. I only hope that I have changed them recently, because in this particular moment I can barely remember what my name is.