Milk in My Tea

1. Two Percent

Quinn’s POV

The first time Kim Namjoon and I slept together was the night of my graduation party. I had had entirely too many celebratory drinks and he was worried about me going back to my new apartment alone. I insisted that I was sober enough to make it back home by myself, but Namjoon refused to leave my side.

During the cab ride home, I put on my best seductive pout and convinced him to come inside with me, just for a little while. We barely made it inside my apartment. We were stripping each other down in my living room.

The second time was on Christmas. Niah’s family was heading back to the States the next morning and Karissa had gone back home for the Holidays. I was all alone and Namjoon came by to drop off a Christmas present for me. My present to him was a glass of wine and the warmth of my body. Oh, and a leather jacket. He didn’t go home until the next afternoon.

After the third time we slept together, around New Year’s, I told myself that I had to stop doing this. I felt guilty for turning our friendship into “friends with benefits” and it was too dangerous to keep it that way. If Namjoon gave me one more seductive, dimpled smile before he devoured me with passionate kisses, I was going to lose my mind. I hadn’t intended for us to go down this road, but now that we were here, one of us had to stop it.

He took the news surprisingly well.

“I just… I want to focus on graduate school and work, Joon-ah,” I told him that night, hoping that my words weren’t met with anger.

He only nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead with a cool smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I get it.”

So, here I am. It’s February and I’ve finally gotten hired on at my sunbae’s new translating firm. Michael (aka Moon Younghwan) was one of my closest friends at Seoul University and he had promised me at his graduation ceremony that he would offer me a job as soon as he got his company up and running. It had taken him two years, which was perfect for me, so his company was looking for new faces right when I graduated. Since Michael knew me personally, I had done my interview with other members of his team and passed every test with flying colors. I was still a newbie in the field, but he knew I would work hard. It was thanks to Michael that I had been able to get so many freelance jobs during school, making enough money to pay for my dorm fees and live comfortably.

My family had paid for my apartment as both a graduation and an apology (for missing my graduation) gift, so when the girls finally setteled down, Niah and Karissa moved in with me off-campus. It was just like old times, except I didn’t have to go to class anymore.

Of course, because Niah lived with me, Suga came over to our place pretty often at the most random hours of the day. Despite all that had happened, he and Niah’s relationship stayed strong. True to their word, Seoul University let Niah go back to school and re-join the basketball team. She made sure they didn’t regret the decision, working hard to put their Women’s team on the map during pre-season. Currently, they were predicted as the Women's college team that would go straight to the championships. Students had started calling Niah Seoul U’s “basketball goddess”, which helped her image with ARMY as Suga’s girlfriend. Truth be told, we all expected a lot more hate to come her way, but BTS made sure to distract the media with hype for their upcoming comeback.

“Queenie, I’m off to class!” Niah called, from outside my bedroom door. I peeked out of my bathroom to find her standing in the doorway.

“See you later, sweets.”

“Have a wonderful first day of work!” She said with a cheerful smile, walking further into the room and I rolled my eyes, fighting to keep a smile off my face.

“Ugh, if I can even get this stupid wig on,” I groaned, shaking the unit in the air in annoyance.

Niah kissed her teeth, and came into the bathroom with me, “Her Majesty is having a bad weave day? I thought I’d never see it happen! Let me try.” Niah took the wig from my hand gently, pulling my wig cap further back on my head. I wouldn’t admit to her that I was honestly just too nervous to focus on the task in front me. I let Niah adjust my wig cap and put the mid-length bob on my head, combing my bangs in a side-swoop over my forehead.

“I don’t know why you don’t just use your real hair,” Niah said, shaking her head, teasing the hair at the back of my wig a bit.

I sighed, reaching for my lipstick, “You know exactly why.”

“Well, yeah, but still; I think it’s stupid. Your hair is amazing the way it is, so they can kick rocks,” She replied, making me laugh.

“I thought you were going to school?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m going to class! See you later!” Niah set my comb down on the countertop and hurried out of the bathroom.

“Byyyeee!” I called after her, even as I heard the shuffling of her feet down the hall. I went back to doing the final touches of my make-up, examining my face in the mirror: downturned hazel eyes that always felt a little too big for my face. Big, full lips and high cheekbones. Umber skin that rarely broke out or gave me trouble. I didn’t hate the wig I was wearing, but I definitely wanted to let my real hair free. I adjusted my wig with a frown.

I pushed out a breath and spritzed a little perfume on my wrists, rubbing them together and then touching the backs of my ears with the fragrance. When I was done, I stepped out of the bathroom and got to work on getting dressed. I put on a dressy black skirt with wide white and red stripes and a long sleeved, black turtleneck sweater. I completed the look with solid black tights, along with my gray coat. I added my grand-mère’s pearl necklace around my neck, complete with matching earrings, then headed out of my bedroom to find Karissa sitting on the couch in her PJs, eating a bowl of cereal.

“I thought you left already, Rissa,” I said, moving to the entryway to slip into my knee length, high heeled boots.

Karissa shook her head, full, “My first class got cancelled,” she muttered around her food and I nodded, grabbing my purse. I groaned as I realized I forgot to pack my lunch.

“Rissa, do we have any leftovers from dinner last night?” I asked, trying to decide if I had time to grab any food before I headed off to work.

“Nope!” Karissa replied, swallowing another bite of cereal. I shook my head, deciding against going back in the house.

“See you, baby girl,” I called, opening our front door. Karissa shouted a farewell as I closed the door, heading towards the elevator of our apartment building and out into the cold.

I hailed a cab and gave him the address to my new office building, a mixed-use tower that had its own food court and fifteen or so different companies spread across several floors. Our translation firm occupied the fifth floor, which Michael gave me a tour of before my first official day there. I was making great time as I walked through the door, doing my best to ignore the confused glances of people in the lobby. I made my way over to the food court, ordering two coffees from the little shop that resided there.

Once I got my order, I climbed on the crowded elevator, doing my best to calm my nerves. The elevator opened to my floor and I hopped off, greeting our two secretaries as I headed towards Michael’s office.

Our company had an interesting structure: there were three levels, with each upper level manager having between two or three translators underneath them, to form a team. Even though we were a small company made up of about 20 translators all together, it was refreshing to be around not only other translators, but also other foreigners to Korea. We had translators that hailed from all over the world including Russia, China, Japan, Mexico, and America, myself included.

“Quinn, you’re early for your first day!” Michael greeted me as I strolled into our office. I handed him his coffee with a warm smile, which he accepted gratefully. Moon Younghwan was about four years older than me, with close-set, kind brown eyes and short, jet black hair. He was a bit heavy-set for his age, but he wasn’t unattractive. He had been raised in an international household as the son of a Korean consul in Chicago. His father’s work in the US had inspired him to pursue a career in translation. Michael prefered to be addressed by his American name, though I had told him multiple times that his Korean name suited him just fine.

“Can’t get fired on my first day,” I said with a laugh, taking a seat at my empty desk to power up my computer. I took noticed all the free space on the tabletop, making a mental note to buy myself some desk supplies later.

“True true.” Michael took a seat on the edge of my desk, sipping his coffee slowly, “You’ll be happy to know that we’ve already got a job for you! Isn’t that lucky?”

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