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KAP 11
“Mom! This is my friend, Kora.”
On the screen, a middle-aged woman with a warm aura resembling Luca was smiling. As soon as Luca’s mother saw Kora, she exclaimed cheerfully.
“Bonita!”
“Hello!”
“It’s so nice to meet you! I had no idea our Luca had such a beautiful friend!”
Luca’s mother spoke in English mixed with a Spanish accent.
She joked that if Luca ever caused trouble, Kora should just take off the shoe she was wearing and pretend to hit him on the back. Hearing this, Luca, who had been listening quietly by her side, shouted, “Mom, please!” which finally made Kora burst into laughter.
“That’s why you should always listen to women, Luca. Do you understand? Anyway, Kora, if you’re Luca’s friend, you’re like family to us, so please come visit anytime!”
“Haha, thank you.”
While they were chatting harmoniously, a little kid suddenly popped into the bottom of the screen.
“Hi!”
When Kora greeted him, Luca introduced the child. He was Luca’s younger brother, Mateo. Mateo stared at Kora with wide, round eyes, swallowed the snack in his mouth, and shouted in Spanish.
“¿Es la chica de la que Luca siempre hablaba?” (Is this the girl Luca is always talking about?)
After hesitating for a moment at the child's question, Luca chuckled and replied in Spanish.
“Sí, es ella.” (Yes, it’s her.)
“¿Es tu novia, verdad?” (She’s your girlfriend, right?)
“Todavía no, pero pronto.” (Not yet, but soon.)
Kora, unable to understand Spanish, simply rolled her eyes awkwardly.
“What is it? What on earth are you two talking about? I’m curious too...”
Crash!
Startled by the sound that suddenly echoed through the pub, Kora and Luca stopped talking and turned their heads simultaneously. There, they saw a plastic cup lying on the floor.
The culprit, as it seemed, was Tristan.
“Oops, my hand slipped.”
The floor where the cup had fallen was soaked with half-melted ice and spilled drink. At the disastrous sight, Kora let out a natural sigh.
‘This bastard is making trouble again.’
Forced to say her goodbyes to Luca’s family, Kora left them behind—still looking disappointed—and headed toward the supply room. She then placed a mop onto a yellow rolling bucket tucked away in the corner.
Returning alone with the squelching bucket, Kora silently began to wipe away the drink that had soaked the floor.
“Ugh, I can’t stand this.”
As she worked hard to scrub the sticky floor where the sugar had settled, she suddenly felt Tristan’s gaze staring at her from his seat at the table. Kora stopped mopping for a moment and wore a suspicious expression.
“...Did you do this on purpose just to screw with me?”
“Why? Are you pissed because your cozy time with your boyfriend was interrupted?”
“Luca isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Then a boyfriend-to-be?”
“I told you, it’s not like that.”
The moment Kora snapped back irritably, the corners of his smirking lips slowly dropped. The playfulness that had been flickering in his eyes vanished instantly, and he whispered in an incredibly low voice.
“Qué inocente eres. Luca Cruz no es ningún santo, no es tan bueno como cree.” (How innocent. Luca Cruz is no saint; he’s not as good as you think.)
“.......”
“¿Lo sabes?” (Do you even know?)
“I don’t know what you’re talking about... Can you speak in English?”
Tensed by the sudden shift in atmosphere, Kora unconsciously swallowed hard.
Tristan remained silent, then pulled the corners of his lips back into a smile again. Then, as if to show off, he lifted the spoon in his hand and slowly licked the soup clinging to the end of it with his tongue. Even in that moment, his gaze remained nailed to Kora.
“.......”
He deliberately tapped the end of the spoon with the tip of his tongue. It was a sexual movement, as if intentional. It made one instinctively imagine what it would be like if that tongue touched somewhere else...
After swallowing the soup with a gulp, he spoke.
“It’s delicious. Your recommended menu is quite addictive.”
“.......”
“I should come here more often.”
Snapping back to her senses, Kora swallowed and replied nonchalantly.
“I’m scared that you actually mean it when you say you’ll come often.”
As if he weren't even worth responding to anymore, Kora turned away. Since she had finished cleaning the floor, she roughly dragged the yellow bucket filled with dirty water.
Squeak, squeak.
Having escaped to the utility room with the loud sound of the rolling wheels, Kora finally let out the breath she had been holding after closing the door.
As she rinsed the mop in the bucket, the memory of a moment ago kept flashing back, making her head spin.
Tristan’s sudden appearance. His ambiguous behavior—whether he was trying to get her attention or just teasing her. And that elegant tongue licking the spoon...
Her neck flushed at the erotic imagination that had surfaced unconsciously. Kora shook her head violently as if to shake off the thoughts.
‘Anyway, what did he say in Spanish?’
Feeling restless, she put the mop in the cleaning closet and stepped out, only to find Luca’s seat empty.
It seemed he had left in a hurry without saying goodbye, as it was time for the football team's afternoon field training.
Shifting her gaze slightly, she saw that Tristan had also disappeared.
“...Phew.”
Only then did Kora let out a sigh of relief. She grabbed a rag from the bar and approached the spot where he had been sitting.
As she was about to clear the soup bowl, which had been eaten clean, and wipe the table, she saw a hundred-dollar bill lying there along with the cost of the food.
‘...Who leaves a tip this big?’
Had he lost his sense of money because he was a rich boy?
After taking the bill and finishing the cleanup, Kora was about to walk away when she spotted a plastic card fallen in the crevice of the leather sofa where he had sat. Looking closer, it was an ice rink access pass with Tristan’s photo printed on it.
“What did he drop now? Is he some kind of Cinderella...”
Kora grumbled and had no choice but to pick up the card and slide it into her pocket.
Still, between forgetting he left his watch as collateral and dropping his cup, it was surprising for a hockey captain who seemed so flawlessly thorough in everything else.
In Rufus's conference room, Coach Jefferson's passionate voice was echoing as usual.
In contrast, the players' faces were clearly exhausted after a marathon meeting that had lasted two hours.
The coach repeatedly attached and detached magnets on the whiteboard, drawing chaotic arrows with a red marker.
“Do you see this? The formation here is a 2-1-2 forecheck. If you lose the puck at the blue line, you have to backcheck immediately. Anyone who can't do this properly should be prepared to rot on the bench, got it?”
“Yes, Coach!”
This year's goal was to win the National Championship in April. Because they had to settle for reaching the Frozen Four last season due to a series of misfortunes—despite having the college's top hockey star, Tristan—Coach Jefferson was grinding his teeth.
Tristan sat in the middle of the tiered conference room seats and scanned the players.
Leg shaking, spinning pens, tossing water bottles. It was a scene that could serve as a textbook example of ADHD.
“Look at the footage from the last game. When the opposing team's defense pushes in aggressively, do you see how our wingers give up the line too easily? I've told you how many times that the center becomes completely exposed!”
As the coach's lecture dragged on, Jenkins, who was sitting in front of Tristan, lost focus and let out a long yawn.
He secretly turned on his phone under the desk and whispered to Levinsky, who was sitting next to him, while showing him the screen.
“What do you think of this girl? She’s in the Jersey Club server, and she’s damn pretty.”
Levinsky glanced down at the screen and nodded in agreement.
“Ah, I know her. Isn't she in the psychology department? What was her name?”
“Angela Gardner. I got her number, and things are going pretty well lately.”
“Does she have any friends? Introduce me. Pretty girls always hang out together.”
“Okay. How about her? She’s top-tier among brunettes.”
Just as Tristan was scanning the backs of their heads with a look of patheticity, Svenson, the team's defenseman sitting to their left, suddenly poked his head in to join the conversation.
“Whoa, damn. That bikini photo is killer. Hey, I'm claiming her.”
“Get lost, you bastard. I claimed her first!”
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