Barlen

The dormitory area was quite a distance from the north gate of the school, and Zoey walked for over ten minutes to get there.

The effects of the liquor she had drunk earlier were now hitting hard. Her eyelids battled each other in a bid to stay open, her head felt heavy, and her steps were unsteady, almost floating.

Close to midnight, the school gate was still bustling with students coming and going in groups.

Zoey, her vision blurred, scanned around but didn't see Barlen's car. She stood by the flower beds near the gate, waiting.

Her head pounded fiercely, and nausea churned in her stomach. She pinched her forehead, trying to clear her mind.

Suddenly, a car horn honked, accompanied by a voice calling, "Zoey!"

She looked up to see a taxi a few meters away, its rear window rolled down halfway.

Barlen rested his right hand on the window, wearing a black shirt with several top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was loosely styled, less stern than usual.

Zoey, in a daze, wondered if he had just taken a shower?

Barlen watched her expressionlessly.

"Aren’t you coming over?" he asked, his tone tinged with impatience.

Zoey, swaying slightly, half-drunk, half-awake, playfully retorted, "It's too far, I can't walk."

Barlen stayed in the car, just calmly watching her.

They faced off for a while.

After some time, Zoey, slowly processing her thoughts, realized this was the school entrance. With a renewed sense of urgency, she staggered toward the car.

"I thought you'd come in your car," she murmured softly.

Barlen didn't respond, just opened the door, sliding over to make space.

Zoey got in, and the car was immediately filled with the strong scent of alcohol. Barlen stretched his arm around her to close the door, instructing the driver to return to where they had boarded.

As the taxi sped away, Zoey leaned heavily against him.

Barlen frowned, his displeasure evident: "How much did you drink?!"

"I don't know." Maybe a bottle? Perhaps more?

Who could tell?

She had toasted all the teachers and leaders, and her well-acquainted classmates.

The drinks didn’t feel bad at the time, and she managed to get back to the dormitory alright, but now her whole body, especially her stomach, felt increasingly uncomfortable.

She shifted her position, turning to hug his solid waist, burying her head in his chest, longing only for sleep.

"Didn’t I tell you last night to stick to soft drinks, or beer at most if you can’t avoid it?" Barlen, holding her chin, made her look up at him.

"Did you just ignore my advice?"

At midnight, with few cars on the road, the taxi moved swiftly, its interior flickering with light and shadow.

Even in the unstable lighting, the deep hue in his eyes was unmistakable as he questioned her.

That kind of disapproval in his gaze was something Zoey found hardest to confront, especially when she was in the wrong.

Lifting her arm with effort, she covered his eyes with her fingers, her words slightly defiant: "And I tell you every day not to smoke, don’t I? Do you listen? Huh?"

Mimicking his tone, she challenged: "Did you just ignore my advice?"

Barlen: "..."

Zoey’s arm, held aloft for too long, began to ache and dropped onto his shoulder. Feeling nauseous, she shifted restlessly, her dress strap slipping down.

The black dress clung to her skin like cream.

Perhaps due to the alcohol, her cheeks were flushed, her gaze hazy, exuding an intoxicating allure.

Barlen adjusted her dress strap back into place, "Don't wear this dress again."

"Why not?"

"It’s unattractive."

Zoey looked at him, pondered for a moment, and confidently said: "You gave me this dress."

After a pause, Barlen remarked: "Even I can make a mistake."

Zoey was about to retort when the taxi came to a stop.

"Get out," Barlen said, taking her phone with him.

Zoey glanced outside: "Where are we?"

"Getting you some water."

Stepping out of the car, Zoey almost lost her balance, dizzy. Barlen reached out to steady her: "Zoey, how much did you really drink?!"

Her tolerance was usually decent; they often drank red wine at home, and she handled several glasses with no issue.

But her current state suggested at least a couple of bottles.

Zoey rubbed her forehead, "I didn’t drink much."

Unwilling to deal with a drunk, Barlen shoved Zoey into his car and went to buy her water. 

While paying, his phone rang – it was his childhood friend Adam. 

“Something up?”

“You're not at home?”

“No, I'm out,” Barlen said, pulling out cash for the cashier who, seeing it was a hundred for a small bottle of water, asked, “Do you have change?”

“No, just give me the change,” he replied.

On the phone, Adam asked, “Are you at a convenience store?”

“Yes.”

Adam said, “Great, bring me some food, will you? I’m starving. There’s nothing at home, and you’re not there either. I’m waiting at your door, so hurry up.”

Barlen and Adam lived in the same complex, just different buildings. They had just returned from abroad, and Adam, finding no one at Barlen's after taking a shower, headed to his place for food.

Barlen pocketed the change, holding the water as he walked out: “I'm busy.”

Adam on the other end: “………………”

Barlen explained: “Zoey drank too much. Get your own food from the store.”

Adam blinked in disbelief, “What? You’re with Zoey? Taking care of her?”

“Your ears are fine,” Barlen said, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear, handing the water to Zoey, who guzzled it down thirstily.

Barlen closed the car door and continued the conversation on the curb.

Adam, hands on his hips, complained: “You can take care of her but can’t bring me some food? You said you were too tired from your flight, even turned down Henry’s invitation to go out. Turns out you weren’t tired, you were off meeting your lover?”

Barlen lit a cigarette.

“What lover?”

Adam exasperatedly said: “Fine, your girlfriend!”

Barlen: “Zoey drank too much.”

Adam: “...I know, you don't have to repeat it. I’m not deaf!”

Barlen exhaled a few perfect oval smoke rings that gradually blurred and vanished into the night. He added, “Zoey always looks for water to drink in the middle of the night after drinking.”

He had planned to sleep, knowing she had a graduation dinner and would probably stay in her dorm, but he changed his mind to pick her up after learning she drank too much.

Adam rubbed his chest: “She’s a grown woman, can’t she manage herself?”

Barlen ignored the comment, asking: “Anything else? I’m hanging up.”

Adam hesitated: “Bro, you’re not seriously into this Zoey girl, are you?”

He knew about Barlen and Zoey's relationship, but Barlen never brought her out, probably thinking her family background wasn't presentable enough.

Barlen nonchalantly said: “Why are you talking so much tonight?”

Adam sighed: “Bro, I have something you might not want to hear.”

“Then don’t say it.”

“...” Adam almost choked, but decided to speak his mind: “Not to speak ill of Zoey, but she shouldn’t be a journalist. If she went into acting, she'd be a perfect candidate for an award-winning actress.”

“What do you mean?” Barlen’s tone was clearly displeased.

Adam continued candidly: “Zoey being with you, where’s the sincerity? She’s after your wealth, her intentions are deep...”

Barlen cut him off: “Adam, it sounds like you're not hungry, but stuffed!”

He stubbed out his cigarette.

Adam changed the subject: “Henry's going to the club tomorrow night, are you coming?”

“Yes,” Barlen threw away his cigarette butt and walked back to the car.

Upon opening the door, the car was filled with the strong scent of alcohol.

Zoey, slumped in the passenger seat, looked at him with a drowsy smile, her eyes sultry: “Having a midnight call with your little lover?”

Barlen ignored her, fastening her seatbelt.

Zoey handed him her unfinished water bottle, along with the cap.

Barlen stared at her intently for a few seconds, then took the bottle and cap, screwing it back on and handing it to her. The cool bottle felt soothing against her hot cheeks.

“Tonight, our department’s heartthrob confessed to me,” Zoey suddenly blurted out.

Barlen's hand on the steering wheel paused, then he gently pressed the gas pedal and drove off.

"Uh-huh," he responded nonchalantly.

Zoey's head felt heavy, and she didn't pay much attention to what Barlen said or his expression. She wasn't even sure why she had mentioned the confession to him. Probably her mind wasn’t functioning properly.

"I turned him down."

Barlen glanced at her briefly but didn't respond.

Zoey continued, "I really envy girls my age."

"What are you envious of?" Barlen asked in a deep voice.

"Nothing," Zoey said, yawning and then closing her eyes.

Not pursuing the nonsensical topic further, Barlen asked, "Have you packed up your things from the dorm? I can have the driver bring them over."

"No need, I've moved everything."

"Oh?" Barlen looked puzzled.

Zoey replied, "I moved everything to my rented apartment."

Barlen glanced at her silently, then focused back on the road.

Zoey, trying to stay awake, half-smiled at him and lied, "Your place is too big. I get scared staying there alone when you're away on business trips. My little place feels safer."

After a pause, she added another fabricated reason, "It's closer to my office, too."

Barlen remained silent, so she dropped the subject.

Zoey shifted to find a more comfortable position and closed her eyes again.

She had spent quite a bit on renting the small apartment. The location wasn't bad, but the environment and soundproofing were poor. She had considered renting somewhere nicer, but the high rent made her think twice.

She had rented the apartment while Barlen was away on business and hadn't mentioned it to him beforehand. When it was done, she thought about telling him but then decided it wasn't necessary.

He was over thirty, of marriageable age. If he suddenly wanted to marry someone of equal social standing, she needed a place to go.

"When do you start work?"

"Huh?" Zoey came back to her senses, not quite catching what he said.

"When’s your first day at the new job?"

"The fifteenth of next month," she said. "I need to go home before that."

"Come back early."

"Why?"

"I'll take you out. Consider it your graduation present."

Zoey smiled, "Sounds good. I don’t want to stay home for long anyway." Alcohol made her talkative, and she spoke more tonight than usual.

She mused to herself, "I'll visit my brother-in-law. My sister said he seems to be improving, might be moved out of ICU soon. I wonder if she’s seeing things, she mentioned his fingers moved."

Continuing her rambling, she said, "My dad called my sister a few days ago, asking her to find a match for my brother. The girl’s family didn’t like our old house, so he asked us to pay for a new one... My sister hung up on him, then he called back, accusing us of being ungrateful."

She scoffed, "Now that he needs money for the house, he remembers we're his daughters. Such luck! My brother-in-law is almost gone, and he’s still obsessed with money…"

Barlen didn’t know how to respond to her talk about her father's sexism. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "You have money in your account. That’s for your personal use. Spend it however you like."

"I'd rather throw it away than give it to him," Zoey rubbed her stomach, feeling awful.

Barlen looked at her, "Talk less, rest your eyes."

Once home, Barlen made Zoey drink half a glass of water before letting her shower.

Zoey was so sleepy her eyes wouldn't stay open. If not for Barlen's cleanliness obsession, she would have collapsed into bed.

Without even grabbing a change of clothes, she headed to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and emerged wrapped in a towel. Barlen had likely showered downstairs and hadn’t come up yet.

Ten minutes later, Barlen turned off the downstairs lights and entered the bedroom to find Zoey sprawled in the middle of the bed, apparently asleep.

Her long, curly hair spread across the white sheets, which were slightly damp.

The towel was loosely draped over her, revealing glimpses of her body.

Barlen felt a wave of heat pass through him. He had been away for over ten days, and just thinking about her stirred him, let alone seeing her like this.

He began unbuttoning his shirt as he approached her, her scent of shower gel mixed with a faint alcohol smell enveloping him.

He took off his shirt and lay down beside her.

They were separated only by a thin towel, which he didn't bother to remove.

He leaned down and captured her lips, biting down hard.

Zoey winced in pain, pinching his waist hard.

Barlen didn’t care about the pain, deepening the kiss. He reached over and turned off the bedroom light.

Zoey knew he would use this method to sober her up.