Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 53

A tiny 7-pyeong room—one that Ji Yeonseo had built for herself and herself alone—welcomed a new visitor.

To Yeonseo, it had always been her own private amusement park, but with Cha Seokyung stepping inside, it suddenly looked like a miniature toy town. Like the land of the little people getting a visit from Gulliver.

Seokyung stepped in, taking in the cozy space she’d decorated. His eyes moved slowly over the cute mat tucked under the bathroom sink, the light linen curtains fluttering by the window, the desk lined with a few textbooks and poetry collections, the figurines sitting in front of the computer.

Then his gaze landed on the bed—small, covered with a comforter printed in tiny fruit patterns—and Yeonseo’s ears burned.

Sure, she’d brought him here with some kind of decision in mind… but that didn’t mean she was immune to what might happen next.

“The bed’s small.”

Seokyung said it lazily, like it was an observation, not a judgment.

Apparently, stepping into a woman’s private space—or knowing s3x might be coming—didn’t rattle him at all.

Something about that easy, unshaken attitude left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Campus heartbreaker,” “dated his girlfriend for a year,” “careless flirt”—the labels she’d known about him for years flashed through her mind in no particular order.

The Cha Seokyung she’d once known wasn’t like this. But six years had passed, and the man in front of her had changed. She knew that. It didn’t mean she liked it. It didn’t mean she liked that she was the one fidgeting in her own room, not him.

“Should I shower first?”

He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it onto her desk chair, and headed to the bathroom without waiting for an answer. The sound of running water filled the room moments later.

“…You’re insane, Ji Yeonseo.”

If her mom knew—well, she wouldn’t tell her mom. But if Yeongeun knew, she’d smack her on the back and laugh, calling it a typical story. The kind you hear all the time.

I got back together with my ex. I hooked up with someone I used to date. We were drunk, things happened. She knew her story with Seokyung would slot neatly into that category.

And then the other worry crept in. First times… hurt, didn’t they?

Still, he was experienced. He’d know what to do… right? That thought alone made her chest tighten. Her legs felt unsteady, so she sat in her desk chair.

Maybe she should’ve listened more carefully to Yeongeun’s advice. What had she said to do again…?

The shower stopped. Her heart pounded so loudly it felt like the whole room could hear it.

After about five minutes, the bathroom door opened. Seokyung stepped onto her favorite strawberry bath mat.

“Your turn.”

Even without the nostalgia factor, Seokyung was the kind of guy any woman would glance at at least once. People were slaves to their senses, after all.

His bare, damp skin glistened under the yellow glow of her cheap lightbulb. His body—broad shoulders tapering into a lean waist, abs detailed with sharp lines—was all grown-up now, even more filled out than in college.

And suddenly, the fact that he was a man hit her with full force. Not just in theory—biologically, physically—everything about him was big, solid, and powerful.

“…That’s my favorite towel,” she muttered, eyeing the one slung low on his hips.

The towel was printed with a white rabbit, her favorite character. Each step he took toward her, something heavy beneath the fabric shifted, making the rabbit’s ear bulge.

“You wanna do it right now?”

The question shot through her like a spark, and she jumped to her feet, grabbing her pajamas from the bed, and bolting to the bathroom.

She didn’t want to feel weird about this. She was twenty-five—just because she had no experience didn’t mean she didn’t know what s3x was.

It was just that mix of tension and strangeness that came before stepping into an unknown world. That was all. At least, that’s what she told herself under the stream of hot water.

She didn’t have the courage to walk out like Seokyung, wrapped in only a towel. So she put on the shorts and pajama shirt she’d brought in. She wore them all the time, but today the shorts felt shorter—probably just in her head.

Like he had moments earlier, she stepped out onto the strawberry mat. The room was too small for her to avoid his gaze. Seokyung was sitting on the bed by the window.

When he noticed her, he straightened from his relaxed slouch and braced his hands behind him. His chest and abs tightened with the movement.

His gaze swept slowly from her ankles to her calves, up over her pink-kissed knees and thighs, before locking with hers. Impatient, as if telling her to come closer.

She swallowed and walked toward him, trying not to think about the obvious bulge under his towel. She knew what it was, but she didn’t want to dwell on why he was already that way. That strange, unsettled feeling crept up again.

When she finally stood in front of him—just inches away—she looked down at him, and he looked up at her. His eyes… they were like waves, just like before, but heavier now, thicker somehow.

His fingers slid over to hers, lightly catching her hand where it rested by her thigh, brushing up along her skin. Even such a small touch sent a shiver up her spine.

A gentle tug, and she found herself standing between his knees. Just one step apart now.

Yeongeun had once said. The distance between strangers is 120 cm, and between lovers is 45 cm.

They weren’t lovers. But they were already deep inside each other’s personal space. And tonight, that distance might just hit zero.

His gaze dipped to her neck, maybe noticing her tension. She hated that. She wanted to be just as calm as him.

He reached for the back of her neck, tilting her toward him. And in that moment, Yeonseo realized what that unsettled feeling was. It was close to fear, but not exactly—it was the irritation of feeling like she wasn’t in control.

“…Why?”

His head stopped mid-tilt. “Why what?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

What she didn’t like was this—him leading everything.

One of them had way more experience. One was the kind of person who could walk into someone else’s home and take charge. The other—her—was in her own room, yet falling into step with his lead.

To be blunt, she didn’t like that he was so skilled. She didn’t like feeling like she had to follow.

She was scared that if she let herself, she’d get swept away entirely.

So instead of following, she decided she’d steer. The direction might already be decided, but the speed? That would be hers to set.

“I have something to say first.”

“…What?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“I’ve never… done it before.”

“…What?”

“I’ve never had s3x.”

That gulp wasn’t his this time.

“…But you’ve had a boyfriend.” His voice was low now.

“Didn’t you say you dated seriously? That’s why you started school late?”

What was the point in rehashing that? She bit the inside of her cheek before answering.

“Yeah, I dated. But we just… didn’t do that.”

His chest expanded, then deflated slowly. His eyes asked the obvious question.

“So. I want to do this at my pace.”

Not following the speed Seokyung had built over six years—her pace.

“If nothing changes, you’ll probably be my first.”

That made his eyebrow twitch.

“I don’t want to ruin my first time just to match you. Didn’t you say you wanted every page in your project house to be filled with good memories?”

“…Yeah.”

“Same here. When I look back on this year—when I look back on all the experiences I’ll have from now on—I don’t want my first time to feel like I was dragged into it. I want to lead it. My pace. And honestly…”

I’m scared, Seokyung. Not just of the first time, but of what’ll be left when you’re gone.

“…Honestly, you’ve got way more experience than I, so I have no idea what you’re going to do. That’s why I want to do it my way. I don’t want to feel small. Not over this.”

That was all she said—chin tilted stubbornly, just like the old Ji Yeonseo who refused to back down even when she was in the wrong.

“…That makes you feel small?” he asked, half incredulous. The look on his face was the same one he used to give her when she’d get mad at him over something ridiculous.

He exhaled hard. “So? What does ‘your pace’ mean?”

Maybe it was patience, maybe it was something else, but even while obviously hard beneath the towel, he stayed put and listened.

“It means… only as far as I allow. Touch only where I say it’s okay.”

“…What?”

“You heard me.”

He let out a laugh, running a hand over his face. She thought she heard him mutter something about it being torture, but she kept going.

“You gave me a choice before—whether we’d be friends for the next four seasons or not. Now I’m giving you a choice. My pace or yours.”

“…And if I pick mine?”

Their eyes locked. This was a battle of sorts—negotiating without words, pushing the other to make a choice.

She’d already lost the moment she let him into her room. Letting him stay was already revealing a piece of what she wanted.

But she still said, slow and clear, “Then leave.”

No hesitation. No regret.