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It was finally happening.
Ryu Rumi, loser extraordinaire, was going on a date with Kang Mira. The Kang Mira. Projected summa cum laude for their class with a star-studded academic record and resume. And, in Rumi's opinion, the most beautiful woman in the world.
She moved with an otherworldly grace. Rumi often found herself drawn to watching Mira in their classes (not in a creepy way, of course!), only because she made the most mundane things seem magical. She somehow made the act of drinking overpriced campus lattes look beautiful.
She was always impeccably dressed and made-up, too. While most students wore sweats to class, she often wore stylish outfits that made the lecture halls look more like a runway, especially when she strutted into class, hips swaying and back poised with effortless confidence.
The least put-together Rumi had ever seen Mira, if it could even be called that, was when she wore her glasses and a baseball cap pulled low over her face to help cover up visual evidence of a sleepless night of studying. And even then, Rumi found her impossibly cute in her gold-rimmed glasses.
One could say that Ryu Rumi had a bit of a crush. If "pining away for months and gathering every bit of information possible from a distance" counted as "a bit."
If she were more honest with herself, Rumi would say that she was head over heels for Mira.
Yet, girls like Mira didn't go for girls like Rumi. Rumi was awkward, introverted, prone to wearing baggy clothes that hid her figure, and had a boatload of mommy issues to boot.
Rumi had had partners before. They'd all dipped as soon as they really got to know her.
Yep, there was no way that Perfect Mira would go for someone like Rumi.
Especially not after their disastrous first meeting.
Rumi had been walking into the lecture hall, eyes glued to the schedule on her phone to make sure she had shown up to the right place, when she'd accidentally walked right into another person. Unfortunately, Rumi had been holding her own overpriced latte in her other hand. The cup had fumbled within her grip, and Rumi had barely had the wherewithal to grab it with both hands—while still holding her phone!—and tip it toward herself to keep it from spilling on her victim.
Unfortunately, that meant that Rumi's own shirt had gotten soaked. As if standing in a puddle of coffee while your favorite white hoodie sported a large new stain wasn't bad enough, the person who Rumi ran into just had to turn around and reveal herself to be the most breathtaking person Rumi had ever seen.
Mira's hazelnut brown eyes had widened with alarm when she'd taken in Rumi's sad state. And then she had opened her mouth and shown
"Oh shit, are you okay? My bad!"
That voice was like chocolate. Smooth and dark, and just barely tinged with worry. Worry for Rumi. Even though Rumi had been the idiot who'd ran into her.
Too embarrassed to even speak, Rumi had turned tail and ran out the door, past the throngs of students still shuffling into the room.
Rumi had never expected to talk to Mira again. Had never expected anything more than to admire her from afar until they both graduated and went their separate ways.
She'd never dreamed that Mira would one day walk up to her at the end of class, tell her that she was pretty and offer Rumi her number before asking her on a date. Rumi had wondered if it were a joke. But the way Mira stood there, waiting for Rumi's answer, earnestly studying her face for any sign of reaction, had all signs pointing to this being genuine.
Of course Rumi had said yes, as awkward and stuttered as the word had been.
And Mira had given her a radiant smile, and held out her hand for Rumi's phone, long and slender fingers ready to type in her number.
This wasn't an opportunity that came every day. This was a one-in-a-lifetime kind of event.
And Rumi wouldn't squander it.
She'd make this date perfect.
Rumi sighed as she pulled up to the tteokbokki restaurant.
She hated tteokbokki. Spice made her stomach hurt, and she was lactose intolerant, which made the cheese-laden spicy rice cake dish one that disagreed severely with Rumi's digestive system.
She'd suggested this place specifically because tteokbokki was Mira's favorite food. She'd overheard the taller woman say as much once at the campus dining hall, when Rumi had been sitting at a table near Mira and her group of friends.
Rumi could survive a few hours of painful spice and indigestion if it meant getting into Mira's good graces.
She pulled out her phone.
Rumi: I'm here, just parked.
Mira: same
Mira: you wanna meet outside the entrance?
Rumi reacted with a thumbs up to Mira's request and got out of her car. She felt a chill in her body as her outfit for the night was more revealing than usual, and she shivered.
Hoes don't get cold, Rumi reminded herself. It was something Zoey liked to say, and now, Rumi repeated it like a litany in her head, as if it were a spell that could protect her from the night's breeze.
She saw a blob of pink that morphed into a familiar person who was staring down at her phone as she approached the front of the restaurant.
"Hey!" Rumi called, grabbing her attention.
Mira's eyes widened as soon as she saw Rumi. Her eyes ran up and down Rumi's body. Rumi had opted to go for a sheer, low-cut top that gave a glimpse to her bra, the shortest jean shorts imaginable, high-heeled boots, and enough silver chains jewelry to stock a Hot Topic. She also wore more makeup than usual. It sat heavily on her face.
The whole thing wasn't exactly her style, but she had to pull out all the stops. This date couldn't be anything less than perfect, after all.
Mira's cheeks turned pink, but the longer she stood there without saying anything, the more nervous Rumi got.
"Mira?"
The other girl blinked herself out of whatever stupor she'd fallen into. "S-sorry." She stepped in to give Rumi a warm hug. "I just…wasn't expecting this look."
Rumi bit her lip, crossing her right arm over her exposed stomach to grab her left elbow. "Do you not like it?"
"Of course I do," Mira was quick to assure. "You look fucking hot."
Rumi blushed and smiled. "Thanks. You, too."
They made their way into the restaurant. Immediately, the scent of gochujang filled her nostrils. She could already feel herself sweating.
Once they were seated, butterflies erupted in Rumi's stomach. Except, they weren't the good kind. They felt more like worms. Worms of nervousness writhing in her stomach.
Mira picked up her menu and eagerly scanned it. Rumi was a bit less enthused.
"I've been looking forward to this all day, you know."
Rumi's eyes snapped up. "Really?"
Mira nodded. "I really want to spend time with you. And, well, I was happy when you suggested this place, actually. I fucking love tteokbokki, and I've been meaning to try this place out."
Rumi beamed proudly. She'd done something right. The date was off to a good start.
The worms in her stomach somewhat abated.
Mira was easy to talk to. She was witty and sarcastic, and it made Rumi laugh. She also listened attentively too, as if everything Rumi had to say was important to her. It made it all the more painful when Rumi stumbled over her words, feeling like a fool as she did so. She wasn't smooth and self-assured like Mira. Every time the other woman looked at her with those sharp, hazelnut eyes, Rumi felt her brain turn to static.
So, Rumi switched tactics. To prepare for tonight, Rumi had made a list of possible topics of conversation. It consisted of every one of Mira's hobbies and interests that she knew of. She asked Mira as many questions as she could, storing each and every bit of new information away for later.
"…and that was how I got hit by a boat while on land."
Rumi giggled. "How does that even happen?"
Mira shrugged. "Fuck me if I know. But now I know to never go near that particular gas station again."
"You have so many funny stories. Got any more?"
"Actually, I was hoping to know more about your interests. You mentioned the other night, when we were texting, that you were working on a song for class?" Mira looked confused, which was warranted. They were both studying Biochemistry, something that traditionally did not involve songwriting.
"Oh, yeah, I'm double majoring in Biochemistry and vocal performance."
Mira's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, really? That's incredible. I didn't know you could sing."
Rumi tensed. This was the red zone. Music was one of Rumi's biggest passions. She could talk at length about it. However, that was only around people she didn't have a raging crush on. Around Mira, the less she talked, the better.
"It's not that big of a deal, really," Rumi said with a dismissive hand wave. "Just something I decided on a whim." A total lie. She shrugged. "I'd rather talk about that research project you're working on, about new compounds that might reverse androgenic hair loss?"
Instead of answering, a crease appeared between Mira's perfectly-shaped brows. The corners of her lips turned down ever so slightly.
Alarm shot up Rumi's spine. Mira looked unhappy. Why was she unhappy? Had Rumi said something wrong?
She didn't have time to ponder her mistake because their waiter suddenly appeared, carrying two steaming plates of pure spicy cheesy indulgence.
"Oh, wow, that looks amazing," Mira gushed, quickly taking a picture of her plate. Rumi was decidedly less enthused. At least the moment of awkwardness had passed. It had been a bump. Just a tiny bump, Rumi assured herself. She'd patch over it quickly.
Several minutes after their food had touched down at their table, Mira had practically vacuumed up half her plate, while Rumi had barely made a dent in hers. She had ordered the Rose Tteokbokki, which was supposedly less spicy than the normal version, but hell if Rumi could tell the difference. Her mouth was still on fire all the same.
Mira frowned when she noticed Rumi picking at her plate. "Is it not good?"
Rumi looked up. "Huh?"
"Your food. Is something wrong with it?"
"No, not at all!" Rumi put on a wide smile, even though her lips felt swollen and burned. "I'm just not that hungry, I guess."
"You can take it to go. Don't force yourself to eat if you're not hungry."
Rumi pushed her plate toward Mira. "You can have it."
"You don't want to save it for later?"
"I, uh, not the biggest fan of tteokbokki if I'm being honest."
Mira smiled, arching a brow. "Interesting choice of restaurant, then, wouldn't you say?"
Rumi had no answer for that. She just laughed awkwardly, and changed the topic to asking about Mira's plans for the weekend.
Despite her determination to patch their earlier bump, the crease between Mira's eyebrows appeared several more times.
There was actual panic in her chest now. Their date was almost over, and Mira seemed dissatisfied for a reason that Rumi couldn't figure out at all.
Time seemed to slow as they walked toward the exit. They were only seconds away from Mira telling Rumi that this wasn't working, but that they could remain friends, before Mira inevitably faded out of Rumi's life completely because she was too nice to outright say that Rumi was a weirdo that she never wanted to talk to again.
Scrambling for a way out of this, one last idea came to mind. The way Mira had looked at her earlier, her outfit. Rumi may be oblivious about a lot of things, but she wasn't oblivious to when there was desire in a woman's eyes.
And that had been there when Mira had complimented her outfit.
Even though this was not how she'd intended the night to go, Rumi had to take a chance on this. She had to play her last card.
A cool breeze slapped them in the face as the doors swung open. Mira stepped out onto the sidewalk and scuffed her shoe against the ground, looking deep in thought. "Rumi, I—"
"Hey," Rumi said, interrupting her. Her tone was low and husky, and she gave Mira the biggest bedroom eyes she could muster. She ran a teasing finger down Mira's arm. "Why don't we head to your car and have a little fun?"
As soon as the doors shut, Rumi's hand was on Mira's jaw, guiding her into a hot, searing kiss. She hadn't wanted their first kiss to happen in Mira's car, with the center console digging uncomfortably into her hip, but their kiss sent tingles all the way down to Rumi's toes all the same.
Mira teased her with her tongue, and Rumi opened her mouth, granting her entry. Their kisses turned deeper, more frantic, and their breaths became heavier. Feeling Mira against her was divine. The way her hands moved all over Rumi's body, one moment cupping her jaw, the next, grabbing at her top, as if she couldn't get enough, and wanted to feel all of her at once.
A nip at Rumi's lip sent heat straight down to Rumi's core, and she moaned. Mira groaned in response. The windows were beginning to fog up. Rumi's head swam with arousal. She was just about to ask if Mira wanted to go back to her place when she felt a gurgle in her stomach.
Oh.
Oh no.
Fuck no.
The tteokbokki was fighting her body, and it was fighting with a ferocity that Rumi had learned to identify as very concerning.
The gurgle turned into a pressure that increased with each passing second. Rumi's worst fears were confirmed when she felt that pressure migrate deeper toward her nether regions. It was undeniable. A truth universally acknowledged, even.
Eat something that doesn't agree with you, and you might get gassy.
And boy did the pressure in Rumi's gut feel like a very big, very loud truth.
Lips still locked on Mira's and hands under her shirt, Rumi's brain raced, trying to search for a way out of this.
She couldn't just leave. Not when she was so close to having Mira, to salvaging this date.
She thought about holding the fart in, but based on how much her stomach was hurting, that would be an impossible task.
She could try letting it out slowly and silently, but with the way she and Mira were moving against each other, there was no way she could finesse her ass cheeks into the proper position to fart silently. That was a skill that required slow and careful maneuvering, something that was impossible at the present moment.
Rumi opened her eyes, and the answer was right there. right within her line of sight. It was so crazy, it just might work.
The car horn.
She'd use the horn to cover the sound of her fart.
This is how she'd do it:
Rumi would ask to sit in Mira's lap. What kind of lesbian would say no to a girl in her lap?
Once she was there, Rumi would "accidentally" lean back too far, right onto the horn.
At the same time, she would fart, and the horn would cover up any resulting noise.
Gods, it was genius.
Even if accidentally honking the horn during car sex was awkward, it was leagues better than farting during car sex. One could be chalked up to a clumsy little mistake. The other was just gross, and would make Mira turn tail and run before they'd even have a chance to be together.
Rumi pulled away from Mira, earning an adorable whine of protest from her.
"Can I sit in your lap?" Rumi panted.
Mira's eyes darkened. She shifted her chair back to make more room. It was a bit awkward, but Rumi managed to shimmy over the center console, all without accidentally kicking Mira in the face or releasing any unwanted noises from her rear end. Her cheeks were clenched so hard, they trembled.
Once Rumi was settling with her knees on either side of Mira's thighs, she dove back onto her mouth as if she'd never left. All the while, her brain was pondering how she'd pull off her silent flatulent predicament.
Once she had readied herself, she pressed her hips back, planting her ass right in the middle of the steering wheel, and braced herself for the noise.
Just as she planned, the horn blared, echoing across the parking lot. Mira immediately pulled away in shock.
Except, something was wrong. Her ass muscles had not activated like she'd wanted them to. As soon as the horn blared, Rumi realized with dawning horror that she'd been a second too late.
She'd mistimed her fart.
The horn blared.
And then a massive PBBBBBLLT! sound filled the cabin. It was so loud, Rumi felt her ass vibrate with it. It was so massive, so distinct, that it couldn't be mistaken for any other sound.
Dead silence followed.
Rumi reluctantly looked down at Mira, her face twisted into a horrified, humiliated expression.
Mira just stared up at her in shock.
Rumi waited for the shout of disgust. For the feeling of being shoved off Mira's lap and told to get out of the car. For Mira to berate her and ask what the hell was wrong with her.
Mira pressed her lips into a thin line, so hard they turned white. Then, her shoulders began shaking. Her nostrils flared. Rumi cringed, knowing what was coming next.
Except, what came next wasn't what she had expected. There was no screaming or sneering. Instead, bright, raucous laughter exploded from Mira's mouth. She laughed so hard that it jostled Rumi, who was still sitting in her lap, feeling like she was going to spontaneously combust with embarrassment.
Mira laughed so long that it turned into wheezes. Rumi's embarrassment slowly turned into indignation. "Stop laughing!"
"I'm—I'm sorry," Mira wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's just—Rumi, what the fuck?" She kept chuckling. Her smile was practically glued onto her face.
Rumi covered her face with her hands. "The food upset my stomach," she admitted.
"Does that always happen when you eat tteokbokki?"
Rumi nodded like chastised child who was owning up to misbehavior.
"Rumi, why did you really pick this place?
"It's your favorite," Rumi mumbled, unable to look at Mira.
Mira's eyes softened. "That's really thoughtful of you. But I want us to do things that we both enjoy."
"Trust me, if I had known this would happen, I would have never said to go here." Rumi had planned every detail of this date perfectly. Her outfit, the restaurant, what she'd say. She hadn't planned on an upset tummy.
Mira continued chuckling, but stopped when she saw tears gather at the corners of Rumi's eyes. "Woah, hey, what's wrong?"
Rumi squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like an idiot. "I wanted this night to be perfect. I wanted to be perfect for you."
"Why?"
"Because you're—" perfect, she wanted to say. "…You," she settled on instead. "I want to be good enough for you. I needed to fix that horrible first impression I made."
Recognition sparked in Mira's eyes. "That day in the lecture hall with the coffee?"
Rumi nodded.
Mira sighed, a look of sympathy crossing her face. "You know I've had a crush on you ever since you spilled coffee on yourself, right?"
"W-what?"
The taller woman smiled. "You looked so cute and flustered, and I felt so bad. I wanted to make it up to you by getting coffee with you sometime, but you ran off before I could even say anything."
Somewhere in Rumi's brain, a record scratched to a stop. There was no way Mira was actually saying what she was saying. Rumi was clearly having an auditory hallucination.
"I finally mustered up the courage to ask you out after months of thinking about it. I really wanted to get to know the cute and hot dork that bumped into me that day."
Mira stared deep into Rumi's eyes, signaling how serious she was about this.
"I don't want you to dress how you think I want you to. I don't want you to make yourself small and belittle your interests because you think I'd like that. I don’t want you to force yourself to eat food you don’t like for my sake. And I definitely don't want you to think you have to sleep with me to get me to stay."
Rumi's cheeks flamed, probably for the hundredth time that night, at having her intentions read so easily.
"I didn't—that's not—"
Mira raised her brow, challenging her to lie. Rumi deflated. "Okay, maybe that was part of it. But I do really want to sleep with you!"
Mira snorted. "Trust me, the feeling is definitely mutual. But not like this, okay? Don't get me wrong, I like car sex as much as the next person, but this isn't the way I want to do this, and I have a feeling you don't, either."
A big, indescribably warm feeling blossomed in Rumi's chest. It was the feeling of being seen, accepted, gassy flaws and all.
"You really are perfect," Rumi breathed.
"Trust me, I'm not."
"Well, perfect for me then."
Mira cupped Rumi's cheeks with both her hands. "I don't want perfect. I just want Rumi."
"Even though I farted on you?"
"Even though you farted on me." Mira wrinkled her nose. "I'm still gonna crack open the window though."
Rumi just buried her face in Mira's neck and laughed til her sides hurt.
It was finally happening.
Ryu Rumi, loser extraordinaire, was girlfriends with Kang Mira. The Kang Mira. A woman whose perfect exterior hid just how caring and sweet she was. The kind of woman who laughed whenever her partner accidentally farted during sex. She was, in Rumi's opinion, the most wonderful human in the world.
Sure, Mira could be snappy, sarcastic, and downright infuriating at times, but Rumi wouldn't have her any other way.
Rumi was still awkward, perfectionistic, and overly anxious. And Mira never seemed to mind it. Rumi couldn't remember the last time she was so happy in a relationship. Even if Mira delighted in reminding her about that unfortunate butt trumpet incident on the night of their first date at least once a month, and definitely every time they got frisky in the car.
Rumi would whine and beg Mira to stop teasing her, and Mira would grin and kiss her until her whines turned to giggles.
This wasn't the type of love that came along every day.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love.
And Rumi didn't need to be perfect to have it.