33 That Gentleman Says You Like Fish

Gemma's POV.

Jacob removes his friend's hand from his shoulder, causing his friend to lose balance and nearly fall.

I watch as he clutches a pack of cigarettes and strides over to me with his long legs, stopping right in front of me.

He looks me over briefly, then lowers his head, pulls a cigarette from the pack, and puts it between his lips.

He sticks his hands into his pockets, seemingly searching for a lighter but forgetting to take them out.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is raspy and unclear.

"I heard from your friend that you were at the pool hall, so I came to see you," I reply calmly.

"How long have you been here? Why didn't you tell me?"

"An hour. I saw you were busy, so I didn't want to disturb you."

"Hmm."

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it in his hand, rolling it between his fingers with varying pressure.

"Wanna talk outside?" I ask.

He follows me out.

We walk to a deserted alley behind the pool hall. The next second, I turn around and throw my bag at him.

"What gives you the right to beat me?!" Jacob steps back, and the cigarette drops from his hand.

"You didn't apologize, then disappeared, and now you're hanging out in a place like this with a bunch of vagrants. Tell me, don't you deserve to be beaten?"

"You're not my mom! Why do you care so much?!"

"If I were your mom, I would've beaten you long ago. Apologize to me."

"I won't."

"Apologize."

"No way."

"Apologize."

"I... will... never... apolo—ah!"

Just as Jacob is restraining my hands, I stretch out my leg and kick him in his most sensitive spot.

He slowly crouches down, cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"I only used half my strength. Otherwise, you'd be crippled by now," I say, patting the tip of my sharp shoe. "Now, back to the topic. Apologize."

Jacob raises his head, his eyes red from the pain, but he grits his teeth and says, "I told you, I'd rather die than apologize."

I can't help but raise my bag again, ready to hit his stubborn head.

But my bag stops in midair.

"Why?" I decide to give him a chance to explain.

"I just don't want to apologize. Is that reason enough?" Jacob suddenly laughs, a bit bitterly. "In your eyes, I'll always be a kid, always inferior to Luke."

"That was just a competition," I say, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, I could see that too. I lost, and you weren't the least bit disappointed. Because from the beginning, you believed I could never win him."

I open my mouth but eventually fall silent.

Jacob continues, "So that night, I just wanted to prove one thing—I'm a man, just like him. We're both men. But Gemma, you never gave me a chance."

Jacob runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I've always treated you as a friend. I thought you felt the same."

Jacob chuckles, "Gemma, as a straight guy, I can responsibly tell you—pure friendship between men and women doesn't exist!"

"But—"

He stands up and cuts me off, "I'm giving you two choices now: One, after tonight, we never see each other again. Two..."

"Yes?"

"You and I start a real relationship, and you treat me like a real man."

I shake my head and take a half-step back.

"You don't want to?" Jacob asks.

"I don't want to hurt you. Right now, I don't have the energy to fall in love with anyone. I'm a little tired."

"I know you're tired, but you can't take away my right to love you." The alley light casts a shadow over Jacob's face, his eyelashes extending endlessly in the dim light.

"Give me a chance, Gemma. How do you know you won't accept me if you haven't tried?"

A night breeze blows through the alley.

As the wind tousles his hair, I look up, suddenly remembering how, when I had just broken up, Jacob took me on his motorcycle to drink, shielding me from the cold wind entirely.

So, I can't help but wonder. Last time, I was the one who loved someone, and the outcome was terrible. But this time, I'm the one being loved—could it be different?

I take a deep breath and nod.

"Okay."

Jacob and I begin showing up in public together, doing all the things couples do—dining at restaurants, shopping, watching movies.

One day at work, the treasurer tells me the boss wants to see me.

I go to the office, and as I expected, it's only Luke inside.

He's typing a work email, his glasses reflecting the black text on the screen, and his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"What do you want to know?" I ask, getting straight to the point.

"Why are you still playing this game with him? Wasn't the lesson from that night enough?" Luke continues his work without stopping.

"This time," I pause for a moment before continuing, "Jacob and I are serious."

The typing stops. Luke raises his eyes and looks at me through his thin glasses.

I decide to lay it all out. "This time, Jacob and I are seriously dating."

"Did he threaten you?" Luke asks.

"No," I shake my head, "I just feel like people should move forward because there's a lot of scenery ahead in this world."

After saying that, I lower my head and avoid looking at Luke's face.

After a long moment, the typing resumes, and Luke's cool voice follows, "I see. You can go now."

I turn and walk out of the room to continue my work.

The evening, Jacob comes to pick me up.

"Why are you here?" I pull him aside. "Didn't you say you were going to your grandma's today?"

"I went to see her. Then I missed you, so I drove over."

I smile and, as I used to, reach out to ruffle Jacob's hair.

But before I can touch it, Jacob grabs my hand.

"I'm not a kid anymore," he says firmly.

I nod, pulling my hand back. The atmosphere turns a little awkward.

Jacob notices it too, so he forces a smile and changes the subject. "Let's go. I'm treating you to a nice dinner tonight."

We arrive at the top floor of a five-star hotel in Manhattan. The restaurant has a wide view overlooking the night skyline of New York and the ocean.

Aside from being expensive, it has no flaws.

I sit on a soft sofa in the waiting area, marveling at the texture of the armrest, then turn my head and say, "Mr. Jacob, you already treated me to a fancy meal last time. Isn't it a waste of money to keep doing this?"

"I'm the one paying. What are you worried about?" Jacob's tone is matter-of-fact.

I joke, "It kind of feels like I'm a sugarbaby."

He smiles. "Then be nice to your sugardaddy."

A waiter in white gloves approaches and leads us to a window-side table.

Jacob pulls out my chair for me, then sits across from me. The overhead light casts a glow on his head, and I suddenly notice how his appearance has changed without me realizing it.

He used to dress like a rapper—curly hair, exaggerated accessories, and graffiti clothes. But since we started dating officially, he's removed the eyebrow piercing. Now, he's wearing a simple white shirt, his tall frame reflected in the window.

The waiter hands us menus.

I glance over the menu and, once the waiter steps away, use it to cover the lower half of my face. I whisper to Jacob, "This place is really expensive, isn't it? I'm just a poor office worker. Maybe next time we can go somewhere else, or I'll have a hard time..."

Jacob looks up from his menu.

"A hard time with what? Paying me back?"

He stares at me calmly for a few seconds, then continues, "I'm curious—when you were with Luke, did you ever use his money?"

I put the menu down and smile, "Hey, it's not a good habit to ask too much about your girlfriend and her ex."

Jacob orders wine from the waiter, then looks at me. "So, did you and Luke split things as clearly as this?"

I lower my gaze, watching the candle flicker between us.

"Generally speaking, we ordered takeout. Neither of us could cook, or we'd have a hourly worker come in to make meals," I admit quietly.

"Then, who paid for it?" Jacob remains stuck on this issue.

"...He did."

"So, what's different between him and me?" Jacob closes his menu.

Just as the tension is about to rise, the waiter comes over. "Have you decided what you'd like to order?"

I quickly nod and point randomly to a few dishes on the menu. "I'll have these."

After the waiter leaves, we start nibbling on the bread, and the atmosphere feels a bit more relaxed.

During this time, Jacob receives a call from home. He apologizes softly and steps outside to take it.

I sit alone by the window, admiring the night view outside.

Suddenly, a waiter in a tailcoat approaches with a silver tray, stopping beside my table. He bows slightly and says, "Miss, this is from a gentleman for you."

"...?"

I turn around and see the tray holding a dish of Antipasto. It's served in a white stone bowl, filled with a greenish, porridge-like mixture, adorned with a small orange flower in the center.

"This dish is mainly made of olives and anchovies. It pairs perfectly with a sparkling Cava."

My eyes widen in surprise. "Who sent this to me?"

The waiter gestures for me to look toward the highest spot in the restaurant. It's partially hidden by lush greenery, but through the foliage, I catch a glimpse of Luke's face. His brown hair falls over his forehead, and under the soft lighting, his complexion appears almost ethereal, too perfect to seem real.

"That gentleman says you like fish."

I lower my gaze. "No need, thank you."

"...I got it. Enjoy your meal."

The waiter turns and walks away with the fish.