Page 36 of Let's Talk About Love

“What about computer programming?” he asked. “That could be fun.”

“Fun for who?” She laughed around each word. “Surely you don’t mean me.”

“What about a language? Translators are always needed.”

“You think I’d be good at that?” She bent at the waist to be eye level with the viewing window. So far, so good.

“I think you’d be good at whatever you put your mind to. You can be kind of indecisive.”

“Kind of?” She glanced at him.

“Okay. Very. But you have a great memory and you do really well in structured environments. If there are set rules or instructions to follow, you can do it no problem and excel. Language is like that. It could work for you.”

“My school does offer a few, I think.” Alice opened the microwave door and nearly touched the bowl before remembering to use a pot holder. “Which one should I pick?”

“The obvious answer is Spanish or Mandarin. If you want, I canstart teaching you Tagalog. Buy a couple of workbooks and I’ll grade them during my lunch breaks.”

“But you’re so busy.” She smiled at him. (And the corn. It smelled amazing and very unburnt.) “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.”

“Mm-hmm, but you won’t go to the seminar with me.”

“I have limits,” he said, walking away. “My understanding only goes so far.”

CHAPTER

14

If Alice had any doubts she felt some kind of way about Takumi, her REM cycle decided to do the honor of setting the record straight.

The dream began normal enough. One of her usual that occurred when she’d eaten her body weight in ramen while in between paychecks. She sat at an enormous dining room table, the kind found in a mansion in a historical movie. Dish after delicious dish of sweet and/or savory food appeared by magic, steaming hot and ready to be devoured. She was more than up for the challenge. Best of all, the table came equipped with a button that made it rotate. She could sit in one spot while she stuffed her belly to her heart’s content.

Midway through a plate of prime rib (cooked medium rare) and mashed potatoes (buttered, salted, peppered), the doorbell rang. She looked around the empty room to see if someoneelsewould open the door (BECAUSE FOOOOOD) and reluctantly got up when it rang for the third time.

(But not before cutting a huge chunk of steak and shoving it in her mouth.)

A giant ballroom, straight out of a Disney classic, packed full of costumed attendees, greeted her on the other side.

“Well, if this ain’t some bullshit,” she muttered to no one, still chewing. She stepped inside, glancing at at the partygoers twirling around the dance floor in a choreographed waltz.

The door slammed shut behind her. She leapt into the air before whirling around. The knob wouldn’t turn and she banged on the door until her hands began to hurt.

“Stop abusing the door,” a voice teased.

Moving proved to be a problem. Her pajama pants with the worn-out elastic waistband morphed into a giant hoop skirt and several layers of fabric. The deep emerald-green-and-black fabric adorned with frills and lace seemed to sparkle under the chandelier lights.

“Oh no,” Alice whined, looking down.

Bodice tight.

Lungs constricted.

Cleavage plentiful.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

Takumi smirked at her from behind the black-and-gold-feathered mask covering the top half of his face. Alice’s almost fainting spell could have been caused by the lack of oxygen reaching her brain due to the corset. Or by Takumi, dressed as Mr. Darcy in a dark gothic fantasy version ofPride and Prejudice.