Momo’s toast is the best in Seoul, but a certain “cutie pie” disagrees.

 

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Momo sells gilgeori toast for a living, but she also gives random nicknames to her customers just for fun. Because let’s be honest, facing eggs and bread every day from morning till sundown can get tiresome and boring at times. It just so happens that a pair of tall women had fallen victim to Momo’s boredom, the name “Ostrich” and “Yoda” being imaginarily taped on their foreheads.

 

"Do you sell plain toasted bread?"

 

"Eh?" 

 

The continuous flipping of perfectly cooked omelette comes to a stop as Momo’s hand paused mid-air, startled by the sudden question of Ostrich with a camera strapped on her left shoulder.

 

"She's on a diet so-"

 

"Unnie!" The tall beauty Yoda steps in, slapping her giggling friend before giving Momo an apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry, her jokes are a bit no-jam, so..."

 

Momo smiles warmly at the two, not the least offended with their antics. “It’s fine. So what can I get you?”

 

As she makes their orders, she spares them a few glances, her lips raised from the hushed reprimand and consoling whispers they exchanged. Maybe, they are not just friends, Momo surmised. Her smile widens, a warm sensation fluttering in her chest from the couple’s furtive but cheeky interactions. With her quick hands, it only took a few minutes for the toasts to be wrapped nicely in a parchment paper before being placed in a white box.

 

“Thank you for waiting,” She slides the box on the waiting counter, along with a large cup of drink to go. “Here’s a complimentary drink too.”

 

“But we didn’t order that…”

 

“It’s on the house.” 

 

Momo casts a wink to the surprised pair, only to hear a loud groan from behind, a head with purplish-pink hair peeking through the high shelf stacked with ingredients.

 

“What, again? Momo, this is the fifth time this week you’re giving away free drinks. This stall is gonna go under soon!”

 

The cook flips her bluish bangs to the side, ignoring her tofu-like business partner grumbling in the back as she flashes a polite smile to the confused customers. 

 

“Don’t mind her, she had a fight with her girlfriend.” Momo casually said, followed by a loud dramatic gasp. “Yah! I did not had a fight with Minari-”

 

“Enjoy your food, and please come again!”

 

She quickly waves them off, watching their retreating backs with a fond look. A chuckle bubbles up when Ostrich playfully shoves the toast into Yoda’s mouth, resulting in a continuous slap attack from the frowning beauty. 

 

She likes seeing her customers enjoying her toasts, a view she would never get bored of. But having someone sharing the sandwich with their significant others is a bonus. It was endearing to see their sparkly eyes shooting hearts in their oblivious, in love state. 

 

She sighs to herself, wishing she can experience that too, soon.

 

The sound of incoming heels skipping against the pavement snaps Momo out of her daydream. She slaps her cheeks a few times to get herself together, before looking up with her trademark “ahjumma” smile.

 

“Hello, welcome to our - oh, cutie pie!”

 

“What?”

 

Momo bit her tongue from the slip up, accidentally calling her favourite customer with the secret nickname. “N-Nothing! So, what can I get you today?”

 

The ahjumma smile quickly grows into a teeth-showing grin at the sight of the small woman clad in a working attire of flowery jacket over white blouse and skirt, a black scarf covering her neck. The fashion is a little awkward for Momo’s liking, but that day, she suddenly likes everything “awkward”. Momo’s image as a professional toast seller instantly switches to a love-stricken girl gawking on her oblivious crush. The only downside of it is that the crush is unbelievably unaware of the cook’s whipped state.

 

“Uh, the usual, please.” The “cutie pie” with dyed blonde hair tied in a tight bun said without looking up, busy searching for something in her small fluffy pouch. 

 

Momo’s speed in making the special order of omelette toast with a generous dollop of ketchup is at an extraordinary speed, the normal eyes can’t seem to catch the movement of her hands. However, the secret cooking technique is only reserved to this one and only loyal customer of hers.

 

“Here!” 

 

She presents the box with a cute pose of her own, something she never did to others. However, the small woman is still preoccupied with her pouch, lips muttering some curse words that didn’t escape Momo’s keen ears of her favourite customer.

 

“What’s wrong?” She started to converse, also the first ever conversation they have.

 

“I can’t find my purse.” She finally looks up, and Momo has to bite her lips from squealing at the crestfallen look that is full of cutesy adorableness. “I’m sorry, but can I cancel my order?”

 

“Nonsense, it’s already paid.”

 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “By who?”

 

“Me.” Momo mustered the most charming smile she had ever attempted in her life, “I can’t have my customer starving.”

 

“That’s very kind of you, but it’s not for me.” Momo’s eyebrows raised a few centimeters, earning her a tight-lipped smile. “I never eat them.”

 

It was like a slap to her face knowing the love she poured on the countless toasts she made before was not meant for her crush to devour. 

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s a matter of preference.”

 

No, her fragile heart can’t accept this kind of half-baked answer for the implied rejection. Instead, Momo leans over, both hands propped up over the edge of the counter with an intimidating stare that could melt a frozen ice.

 

“Enlighten me.”

 

A pause and a scratch of cheek, followed by a low whisper. “The ingredients are crap.”

 

Oof!

 

It wasn’t even a slap anymore. Momo feels like her body was crushed by a huge boulder, thrown down the cliff, descending into a deep dark abyss of no return from the answer of her beloved customer. The cool facade of “trying to impress your crush” is immediately dropped, and Momo returns to the professional toast seller she is because no one can diss her food, this cutie pie included.

 

“Excuse me, you haven’t even tasted them! How can you judge my toast like that?”

 

“I just know.”

 

The nonchalant shrug and bored face really irks Momo, her jaws gaping in disbelief at the confidence exuded from this “cutie pie” that doesn't look so cute and taste like pie anymore. 

 

“That’s absurd! I make the best gilgeori toast in Seoul, you know?”

 

“I can do better.” The heart-shaped lips slowly lifted to a smirk, and Momo is annoyed by how y and infuriating the woman is just by the small gesture.

 

“Pfft, I’d like to see that.”

 

There’s a beat of pause, and Momo thinks she had already won the argument, already making a celebratory dance in her head. But the pondering face soon morphs into a look of approval, her small fist bumped over open palm.

 

“Let’s go to my house then!”

 

“E-Eh?”

 

Momo doesn’t understand how it happened, but the next second, she’s already rushing out of the stall, chucking her apron carelessly onto her unsuspecting partner-of-a-tofu before walking alongside the skipping woman towards her home down the block. 

 

She’s currently seated on the small round table, a sandwich cut in half presented on a fancy plate with some greens decorated on the sides. Momo grimaced; the toast looks a lot more clean and healthy than her own messy room. 

 

“Go on.” She looks up to see an expectant cheshire grin, “I didn’t poison the bread, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

No, Momo isn't worried about being poisoned, but of getting an upset stomach due to the sudden change in her choice of food (because her stomach is already so used to greasy food). But how can she refuse the unappetizing, boring looking sandwich when that cute dimpled grin is making an appearance right in front of her face.

 

With a hesitant bite, she slowly chews on the small chunks of bread, eggs and variety of vegetables, dreading the bland taste she’s about to savour. However, instead of wincing at the healthy flavour, her eyes gleam in surprise. 

 

“Omo what is this it’s so good what did you put in there-”

 

Momo gushes while taking another bite, a mouthful this time, along with noises of approval from the flavourful taste, still unaware of the satisfied grin displayed across the table.

 

“Is it better than yours?”

 

The question made her stop, visibly taken aback by the wide smirk directed to her. She places the remaining mouthful of the toast back on the plate, eyes staring sheepishly at the table as she wipes clean.

 

“Um, it’s uhh… it’s edible.”

 

“Is it passable as a date, then?”

 

“Eh?”

 

The woman shyly rubs her nape, her cheeks flushing pink. The large round eyes that exude confidence seconds ago are now avoiding Momo’s gaze, fingers picking the felted coaster by her hand.

 

“I invited you over, made food for dinner, and let you sit on my favourite chair.” She glances up, a glint of doubt plain to see. “This is similar to a date, right?”

 

“Only if you like the other, and the feelings are mutual.” Momo stated matter-of-factly, still unsure where this conversation is heading.

 

“I do!” The reply came a tad too fast, her voice raised a pitch. Then she sinks in her chair, and she looks like the small, adorable woman again in Momo's eyes as she whispered out the confession. “I really do like you...” 

 

It wasn’t the romantic kind of confession Momo had imagined, or one as awkward as the current situation she’s having. But she did say she likes everything awkward, and that includes the embarrassed woman sitting across the table still timidly avoiding her eyes from the abrupt confession.

 

“You don’t even know my name.” Momo props her elbows on the table, a playful smile on her face.

 

And the woman regards Momo’s subtle advances as an acceptance to her lame confession, an invitation to flirt back and be daring again; just the way Momo likes.

 

“That can be arranged easily, babe.” She emphasized the last word, mirroring Momo’s posture with her own dimpled, full-blown grin that accentuate the beauty spot below her lower lip; Momo only realized the presence now.

 

“I'm Chaeyoung, but you can still call me ‘cutie pie’, if you want.”

 

This time, it’s Momo’s turn to be flustered, her face turning as red as the ketchup she always put on her cutie pie’s order. Yes, she didn't stutter on that, Chaeyoung is her cutie pie now. Perhaps, they don’t need to exchange names after all, because she can live with calling each other the endearing pet names, having a certain charm that only belongs to them, and only them.

 

Besides, Momo loves being called babe, anyway.