Chapter 16: A Cancelled Date, a Free Feast

Another Saturday, another potential date swirling down the drain. I sat on the living room sofa, legs crossed, phone clutched in my hand like a lifeline. Thirty minutes. Thirty agonizing minutes since I’d last messaged her, a fellow KPOP stan I’d connected with on Twitter X. Thirty minutes of radio silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

I’d spent the better part of the morning prepping for this – a meticulous skincare routine, a carefully curated outfit, a spritz of my favorite Chanel No. 5. Now, here I sat, looking like a perfectly groomed, exquisitely scented wallflower, all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Finally, the long-awaited ping of a notification. My heart leaped with a flicker of hope, only to plummet back down to earth as I read the message. "So sorry, Sacha! Something came up. A total emergency! Raincheck, maybe?"

I sighed, the air escaping my lungs in a whoosh of disappointment. An emergency, huh? I thought, scrolling through my Twitter X timeline. And there it was, staring me in the face – her retweet, a frantic call to arms for all fellow stans to vote for our bias group in Mnet’s M Countdown. Apparently, securing our faves’ victory was a more pressing engagement than a date with yours truly.

A part of me understood. The KPOP world was a battlefield, and fandom wars were serious business. I’d engaged in my fair share of online voting frenzies, sacrificing sleep and sanity to ensure my bias group reigned supreme. Still, a little honesty would have been nice. I could have joined the voting party, traded streaming strategies, commiserated over the nail-biting tension of a close race. Instead, I was left feeling like a discarded accessory, a last-minute cancellation in the face of a more exciting offer.

But hey, at least I looked fabulous. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, admiring the way the afternoon sun caught the highlights in my perfectly styled blonde hair. This outfit wasn't going to waste. I was going out, even if it was just to grab a solo bubble tea and drown my sorrows in a sea of tapioca pearls.

"Maman, Papa, I'm going out!" I called, grabbing my keys from the entryway table.

"Oh, Sacha, darling, is your date not coming?" Maman’s voice laced with concern. My parents, ever the attentive ones, had been subtly (and sometimes not-so-subtly) inquiring about my date all morning.

"Something came up," I said vaguely, not wanting to delve into the details of my KPOP-related rejection. "I’m just going to grab some bubble tea."

"Be careful, mon chéri," Papa called from his study, his voice muffled by the thick oak door.

I stepped out into the bright sunshine, the disappointment already fading, replaced by a surge of defiance. A cancelled date wasn’t going to ruin my Saturday. I slid into my Porsche, the smooth purr of the engine a soothing balm to my slightly bruised ego. As I pulled out of the driveway, I caught a glimpse of Jules in his front yard, flexing his biceps in a tank top that could charitably be described as "two sizes too small." He winked at me, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Some things never changed.

"Are you going out?" Jules’ voice boomed across the lawn, shattering the peaceful afternoon quiet.

"Yes!" I yelled back, already annoyed. This whole shouting-across-the-yard conversation was ridiculous. Thankfully, Jules seemed to get the hint and started jogging towards me, his expensive sneakers crunching on the gravel driveway.

"Nice car~" he whistled, his eyes raking over my sleek black Porsche Taycan with undisguised envy. "You’re all dressed up. Going on a date?" he inquired, a hopeful glint in his eye.

"No. Going for bubble tea. Alone," I answered pointedly, popping the ‘alone’ as if it were a particularly juicy piece of gossip. Jules coughed, clearly deflated.

"Wanna…go get it together?" he offered, winking and flexing his biceps as if this display of masculinity would somehow sway my decision. "My treat."

I sighed internally. I was all dressed up, and I was going out anyway. And the prospect of a free meal, a chance to experience what it was like to be on the receiving end of some nouveau riche generosity, was…intriguing. "As long as you’re treating for everything," I said, laying down my condition. I was usually the one footing the bill on dates, and while I didn’t mind, I was curious to see what it was like to be treated for once. It was all about the experience, after all.

Jules’ face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Of course, of course! We can go anywhere you like!" he eagerly agreed, nodding his head like an overexcited puppy.

"Anywhere?" I asked, my interest piqued. This could actually be fun.

"Yes, yes! Anything for my beautiful flower!" he confirmed, beaming. I cringed internally. I hated being called anyone's "flower." But free food, a new experience…okay, fine.

"Let’s go," I said, a small smile playing on my lips. This could be interesting.

Jules was practically vibrating with excitement as I drove the Porsche back into the driveway. I then followed him inside his house gate to his Lamborghini in the driveway. I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool and smooth against my skin. The interior of the car was as ostentatious as its exterior – bright orange accents, a dashboard that looked like it belonged in a spaceship, and a sound system that could probably rival a small concert venue.

"So, where to, ma fleur?" Jules asked, revving the engine with unnecessary gusto.

"Hmm…there’s that newly opened Korean BBQ place," I mused, tapping my finger against my lip. "It’s a bit… expensive. Can you afford it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at Jules. The restaurant in question was notoriously pricey, a place even I, with my comfortable family allowance, wouldn’t normally splurge on. My chef’s salary went towards daily expenses, and while I had access to the Jacques family fortune, I preferred to live within my means.

Jules, predictably, puffed out his chest and declared, "Of course, ma fleur! Only the best for you." He clearly hadn’t grasped the subtle jab about his financial capabilities.

The drive to the restaurant was filled with Jules’ usual self-aggrandizing chatter. He held forth on the intricacies of his "business ventures," the brilliance of his "innovative strategies". I mostly tuned him out, focusing on the anticipation of the upcoming culinary experience.

The restaurant’s interior was as extravagant as I’d expected – sleek, modern design, dark wood accents, and the faint aroma of grilling meat hanging in the air. We were seated at a plush booth, and Jules immediately launched into another round of self-promotion. I nodded politely, my attention already drifting towards the menu. Even with Jules footing the bill, the prices were eye-watering. I mentally calculated how many hours I’d have to work in the kitchen at The Grand to afford a single plate of their premium wagyu beef.

As Jules continued to brag about his company and its "disruptive potential," I indulged in the free food, savoring each bite of perfectly grilled meat. Even if the portions were minuscule, the quality of the ingredients was supposed to be top-notch. I kept my interactions with Jules to a minimum, careful not to give him any false hope. This was purely a transactional arrangement – free food in exchange for enduring his company.

Suddenly, a voice cut through Jules’ monologue. "Jules…?"

I turned to see a strikingly beautiful man standing by our table. He had long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, creamy thighs exposed by his short-shorts and black high-knee socks, and an oversized sweater that somehow managed to look both cozy and stylish. It was a look I recognized, a style often associated with the term Jules had so carelessly thrown at me before. A femboy.

Jules, as predictable as ever, was practically drooling. He’d made his…preferences…abundantly clear, and this newcomer seemed to fit them perfectly. The man, however, seemed less than impressed. He glanced at me, his expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "Who’s that?" he asked, his tone sharp.

Oh boy, this was going to be interesting. I took a slow sip of my iced tea, settling in to watch the drama unfold. This free meal had just gotten a whole lot more entertaining.