Heidi Kim

It was getting harder to ignore her. The way I would suddenly laugh at her stupid jokes, the way she always made sure I had eaten, and the way she casually threw her arm over my shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was small, subtle, and maybe even normal between friends, but to me, it felt like a slow-burning fire I couldn’t put out.

I hated it. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

I wasn’t sure when it started, when I began noticing the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled or how her fingers would sometimes brush against mine when she handed me something. But now, every little thing she did linger in my mind longer than it should.

And worse, I found myself craving it.

I never used to be like this. Sure, I had a few guys ask me out before. I even said yes a couple of times, went on awkward coffee dates and tried to feel something, but nothing ever clicked. Nothing ever stuck. Back then, I just assumed I was picky—or maybe just too focused on work. I never really thought too hard about what that meant, never questioned whether I only liked guys because that’s what was expected.

But this… whatever this was with Vina—this was different.

No guy ever made my heart race like she did when she stood too close. No guy ever made me feel this ridiculous mix of excitement and dread whenever our eyes met.

And that scared me.

Because maybe I didn’t know myself as well as I thought.

The dinner rush had just ended, leaving the restaurant in a comfortable hum of clinking glasses and soft chatter. Most of the tables were already empty, with only a few lingering customers enjoying their desserts. The kitchen had finally settled down after hours of chaos, and I was wiping my station clean when I heard an unfamiliar voice near the bar.

I turned, casually glancing toward the front. And there she was, Vina, leaning against the counter, her signature smirk in place as she spoke to a customer. A male customer.

I frowned, pausing mid-wipe. The guy was tall, well-dressed, and obviously trying too hard to impress her. His grin was confident, and his body language was practically screaming I’m interested.

Vina, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact, she was entertaining it. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, laughing at something he said. It wasn’t her usual full, genuine laugh, but it was enough to make something uncomfortable twist in my chest.

I scowled and looked away, scrubbing my station with more force than necessary.

Why did it bother me? It wasn’t like Vina was mine. She could flirt with whomever she wanted. It had nothing to do with me.

…Right?

Still, my irritation only grew when I caught snippets of their conversation.

“So, Chef Vina, do you have a boyfriend?” the guy asked smoothly, resting his elbow on the counter.

Vina tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Nope.”

My grip tightened on the cloth in my hand.

“Well, a little birdie told me that you weren’t straight, so I’m guessing a girlfriend was what you already have?” he pressed, grinning like he thought he was being charming.

Vina hummed, pretending to think. “Mmm… not at the moment.” At the moment?

I didn’t like that answer. Not one bit. And I really didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like she was some kind of prize he could win.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed a plate and stormed toward the bar. “Vina, we need you in the kitchen,” I said, my tone coming out sharper than intended.

Vina raised a brow, clearly amused. “Really?”

I resisted the urge to glare at her. “Yes. Now.”

She let out a dramatic sigh before turning back to the guy. “Sorry, duty calls.”

The guy chuckled. “No worries. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

She only gave a noncommittal hum before following me. The moment we were out of earshot, she nudged me playfully. “Wow. Didn’t know we were short-staffed all of a sudden.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “I just didn’t want to hear that guy’s lame pickup lines anymore.”

Vina smirked. “Oh, really? Were you jealous?”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. “Excuse me?”

She leaned in, her voice teasing. “I mean, you did seem pretty eager to pull me away.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

She chuckled but didn’t press further. Instead, she stretched her arms above her head, looking completely unbothered. “Well, if you ever do get jealous, just let me know. I might consider giving you more attention.”

I turned away quickly, hoping she wouldn’t see how red my face had gotten.

After closing, the restaurant was quiet. Most of the staff had already left, leaving just me and Vina finishing up the last of the cleanup. I focused on wiping down the counters, trying to ignore the occasional glances Vina sent my way.

“You’re weird today,” she finally said.

I didn’t look up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She leaned against the counter, watching me with a lazy grin. “Mmhmm. Sure.”

I huffed. “Just finish cleaning.”

Vina laughed softly but didn’t push it. Instead, she moved closer, too close. I could feel her presence beside me, and it was infuriating how easily she could invade my space.

Then, out of nowhere, she wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a quick side hug.

I tensed. “What are you—”

“Just a little appreciation hug,” she said casually, resting her chin on my shoulder for a second before pulling away. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

I nearly dropped the rag in my hands. “I—”

Before I could even form a response, she pulled out her phone and turned on the front camera. “Smile!”

“What? No—”

Click!

I blinked, realizing what had just happened.

Vina grinned at her phone before turning the screen toward me. The photo showed the both of us, her smiling cheekily and me mid-protest, my expression a mix of shock and embarrassment.

I groaned. “Fucking delete that!”

“Nope,” she said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Might need it for blackmail later.”

I glared at her, but she just winked before walking away to finish the rest of her tasks. I sighed, rubbing my temples. What was I supposed to do with her? And more importantly, what was I supposed to do with myself?

Because the truth was, no matter how much I denied it, no matter how irritated I acted, I liked it. I liked the way she got under my skin, the way she teased me, the way she smiled at me like I was someone special. And that realization was both terrifying and thrilling all at once.