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We endup at Dim Sum, a dumpling place near campus that’s usually packed on weekends. Tonight, Mr. C gets us right in—half of Seattle’s still at the game or stuck in traffic, and Jaxon’s dad knows everyone. And the ones he doesn’t, Mila does.
We’re led past the fancy bar—people sipping cocktails with smoke curling off them—into the dining room, paper lanterns casting a golden glow over matte black tables.
The place screams expensive—floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights, art that probably costs more than my tuition. But the food? Worth every penny.
I slide into the booth next to Emerson, Callie teleporting next to Mr. C.
Mila smiles, used to this by now. She’s watched women swoon over her husband for decades.
The server drops off clipboard menus and explains the system like we haven’t been here a million times. “Check what you want, as many as you’d like. Four to five items per person.”
My phone buzzes. I angle it away from Callie’s prying eyes.
Jaxon
Where ya at?
My stomach does that stupid flutter thing. I try to play it cool as I type.
Dim Sum with your family
He replies instantly.
jealousss
got time for your boy later??
Your boy? I read that right?
Okay, be cool. Don’t be eager.
Mmm maybeeee
That’s a good reply, right?
“Stop texting my brother,” Emerson elbows me, making me drop my phone in my lap. “If I get those soup ones, will you share?”
I look up—everyone’s poised with pencils. “Yeah.” I start checking boxes—shrimp dumplings, spicy wontons, char siu. “Only if you let me put chili oil on them.”
“Sure.” She rolls her eyes but checks it anyway. Emerson hates spicy, but Jaxon and I love it.
My phone buzzes again.
Coach is still talking
Save me
I hide my smile behind the clipboard menu.
“That’s definitely Jaxon,” Emerson says, peering at my phone. “What’s he saying?”
I kick under the table, thinking it’s Em, but I hit Mila instead. “Oh my god, sorry!”
“Girl.” She laughs, reaching for her fancy tea. “I raised Jaxon and Em. I have bruises from them that may never heal.”
My phone buzzes again.
And Cam?