II

Just a moment of silence—that was what Tiffany wanted. No, that was what she needed at that exact moment. But the mixture of melodies and noise echoed within her and beyond. And the stillness her soul should be yearning was nowhere near. The dirty bass thumped and the combinations of sweat and alcohol scents were everywhere. It was radical, intoxicating and utterly everything you can expect from an American clubbing experience.

The party was supposed to make her feel good, to help her loosen up her nerves—to boost her self-esteem in a way. After all, Tiffany’s happiness was the only reason why Jessica even dragged her there. But the red head was anything but that.

With a see-through blouse and a short mini skirt partnered with a pair of metal studded black pumps, Tiffany was dressed to impress. And men [and women] naturally gave her their lustful stares—sending her quiet invitations of kinships. But she stayed idle and unwelcoming, sitting in that dimmed corner of the bar—with just her blonde pal accompanying her.

“Are you sure you’re drinking that?” Jessica was starting to worry as she glanced at her friend. “That’s your third shot of tequila.” She pointed out.

Tiffany ignored her and just took the clear liquor in one swift gulp. “Aaah!” She exclaimed, looking quite satisfied with the sensation she got from her drink.

“Waiter!” She called. “Another one please.” She swiveled the empty shot glass in the air.

“Oh, make it a bottle of rose tequila instead. For me and my gorgeous friend here.” And she gave her infamous eye-smile to the man taking orders near them.

The man instantly nodded and went to get her request. Her pretty features did the trick and in no mean time, the waiter came back with a black bottle and two shot glasses. Tiffany gave a thankful smile and the man looked extremely happy that Jessica had to glare at him to go away. The man must have sensed the dark aura and went on his way.

“You’re not a good drinker, Fany-ah.” Jessica took the bottle away from her friend.

“Give it to me.” Tiffany commanded.

Jessica sighed and gave in. She didn’t want to be a party pooper. And to think that it was her idea to go there in the first place, she just couldn’t say no to the lass.

Tiffany took it hastily and poured the pink liquid in the two glasses—admiring her favorite color inside the crystal glass.

“I didn’t know she’s American.” Siwon sighed as he leaned closer to the woman sitting beside him. “She told me her name is Miyoung Hwang. And I’m like, ‘Oh! You’re a Korean too! Let’s be friends.’ and we did went out for some time until I found out that she’s not exactly a ‘Korean-Korean’, if you know what I mean.”

He took a sip of vodka and glanced at the sea of people on the dance floor. The night was still young but the club he was invited to was already filled with a lot of customers. He slowly returned her gaze towards his acquaintance and continued his speech. “I mean, I can never introduce her to my family. You know how our elders are like. In the end, they’ll still have the final say as to who I’ll be marrying. And it’s highly doubtful that they’ll agree on her. So to say, it’s just a waste of time to date her. Too bad, she’s pretty.” He casually narrated as he gave a disappointed shrug.

The lady chuckled and coyly hit Siwon’s shoulder. “But I thought she’s already your girlfriend, oppa.”

“Not really. She’s just a fling. It just won’t work.” He muttered with finality.

Tiffany gulped the cold drink—savoring the warmth trailing down . How can something cold produce this kind of heat? It was numbing and sort of alleviating the pain caused by the blatant rejection she overheard just a while ago.

“Fany-ah.” Jessica’s voice was tender as if she was scared that any wrong move and her friend could possibly break any moment.

She was beside Tiffany when Siwon blurted his hurtful words. She wanted to go slap the man but Tiffany held her and they ended up going to another club—one that is more populated and gaudy. Jessica racked her brains as to why. She knew Tiffany would need a place of quietness for it was the normal reaction her friend would always do in this kind of situation. She thought they would be going somewhere private and she would be crying her eyes out—like a child, always like a child. But something was different tonight. Tiffany chose the noise and she was drinking…not crying. Something, something is definitely different.

“Fany-ah.” Jessica called her again.

“Why wouldn’t they pick me, Jessie?” Tiffany asked a question but her gaze was fixed on the now tequila-filled glass.

Jessica sighed. “They’re jerks, Fany-ah. They couldn’t see how special you are.” She rested her chin on her palms as her elbows touched the table. “Why are you even stressing yourself about this relationship thing? You don’t really need a man, you know.” She suddenly cupped the other’s cheeks. “Look at me.”

Tiffany did, hesitantly.

“You’re one of the best models in the industry. You got your own house, your own car. You’re young and you have a progressive career in front of you. And to top it all, you got money—lots of it. YOU DON’T NEED A MAN TO COMPLETE YOU.” Jessica emphasized the last sentence.

Tiffany let go of the grip and frowned. “But I want someone to take care of me. Someone who’ll text me every now and then, asking me where I am or what or how I’m doing, someone who’ll  cook for me, give me flowers and gifts on valentines or Christmas. I want someone to celebrate a 100th day together—like what normal couples do. I want to experience that tingling feeling and be in love, even just once. Am I asking for too much? I’m already 25. God, Jessie. I’m 25 and I haven’t had a boyfriend still. What’s wrong with me?”

Jessica eyed the gal and leaned on her chair. “Oh, save for the crazy concept of love, nothing…nothing much, really. You’re actually fine.” She fiddled with her nail art, now completely looking as her usual self—cold and uninterested. “And here I was, so worried that you might have gone senseless because you might have actually been truly in love with that jerk. Geez.”

“Jessie!”

“What?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re supposed to comfort me, you know. Like, give me some advice or something. You’re my best friend!” Tiffany complained.

“Sigh…Remind me again why we’re best friends?” Jessica tilted her head.

“Because we are. And you love me.” She pouted.

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