Page 13

CHAPTER 13 VI?T

The morning after the picnic started like his previous days—“his dark days,” he decided to call them. He stayed under his blankets, listening to Wren quietly get ready. Heard him stub his toe and his cut-off swear. Which made Viet smile—not because he wanted his roommate to get hurt but because Wren was trying his best not to disturb him. Then guilt flashed through Viet. Wren had put up with his moods. Yesterday Evie had to coax him to step outside. He hadn’t cried like that since he was a child, and of course it had to be in front of his friend. But Evie granted him silence.

His friends were worried, but he didn’t want them to, not anymore. He would try to be better. Maybe that meant going to the mental health center, which felt daunting. But maybe it could start with getting out of bed.

So he gave himself fifteen more minutes, hoping his brain would send the right signals; then he pushed down his covers, sat up, and met Wren’s eyes. The other boy was checking himself out in the mirror by the entrance. A laugh escaped Viet’s lips before he realized it. Still felt strange to laugh. Something to do with his roommate’s wide eyes—at being caught at an awkward moment, or at the sight of Viet getting up on his own accord.

His roommate unfroze. “You don’t look much better,” Wren threw at him, all bark, no bite. He followed through with a smile. “And get your own food today. What am I, your butler?”

If Kale were to open his own restaurant, Viet imagined it would take off. True to his celebratory promise to Evie, the chef had served up Hawaiian BBQ chicken and veggie skewers, salmon teriyaki rice bowls, and haupia at the following Saturday dinner. Viet, feeling better than the week before, ended up having three servings of the latter, which was from Kale’s family recipe. If a true restaurant critic were there, they’d give the sweet pudding no less than five stars.

Viet found himself at The Green a few days later, as a taste-tester. One of his lectures had gotten canceled, and his homework assignment that night wasn’t complicated, so he agreed to help Kale with another food experiment.

Today’s menu item was a dupe of the Rebel Within muffin from Craftsman and Wolves, an eatery in San Francisco. Kale’s cousin had brought him there the summer it debuted, and there was a two-block-long line of people waiting for the sausage, chives, and cheese monstrosity that had a perfectly boiled soft egg inside—a gourmet on-the-go breakfast. People were supposed to eat it with a sprinkle of Tabasco salt, but not being able to find it, Kale had used some Frankie’s seasoning powder. The first batch was delicious but needed a bit more salt. The second was delicious. And the third—

He wondered how food tasters and cup bearers in old royal courts endured their tasks, knowing they could potentially ingest poison. He wondered if someone could die from being overfed.

“No more, please. Hand it over to Tate.” Viet pushed away a half-eaten muffin, still steaming from the oven. He wasn’t sure there was someone with as voracious of an appetite as Kale’s runner boyfriend.

Kale scowled. “He’s not critiquing; he’s just eating.”

“You hate leftovers. I’m helping with that,” Tate answered with a shrug, finishing off the muffin that Viet could not. “But maybe you should just stop baking today.”

“If I don’t keep busy with my hands, I’ll text Evie, and it’ll distract her.” Her interview with the clinic was scheduled for today. “I want to support her but not overwhelm her.”

At one point, when Kale was too focused on baking to talk—and Tate had eaten more than his portion, then disappeared into his bedroom to study—Viet sank into the living room sofa. Bao and Linh were FaceTiming him. Maybe Bao had a sixth sense for reaching out to Viet during the times he needed human contact the most. The couple were on Linh’s campus, finally spending a weekend together, and were hanging out on her dormitory bed. Viet mentioned off the cuff that he was at a friend’s apartment.

“You have friends?” Bao asked, and Viet considered pressing the end button.

When he showed their video call to Kale, the older boy exclaimed:

“Is that a baby Evie?! That’s her boyfriend, right? So adorable.”

Which probably froze Bao’s brain because he was never used to impromptu compliments and probably froze Linh’s brain because she didn’t expect Viet to hang with anyone in her sister’s group. It didn’t help that Viet had yet to update the two of them about Saturday Sins. Their texts were mostly about silly things and random complaints.

Oops.

He tried explaining to Linh, “We ran into each other one time, and—”

“She hasn’t told me anything!” the girl exclaimed.

“Ah, well. She’s been busy. I didn’t have a chance either—”

They caught up that way, interrupted by Tate, who emerged once hearing all the chattering. He wandered over to the sink to wash dishes but was shooed out by a territorial Kale, and then soon enough, Viet had to end the call to prevent his friends from glimpsing bloodshed, and immediately three texts came through.

Bao: send me them muffins!

Linh: Viet, i have more QUESTIONS

Ali: huh what did I miss?

Right, he did have a lot to answer for. Before he could begin typing a response, a chorus of phone dings echoed throughout the room. Evie had sent through one emoji in their group chat— .

Their phones went off again: another .

Followed by three crying emojis.

“She’s the picture of calm,” deadpanned Tate.

“Maybe I should go see her. Calm her down. But—” Kale glanced, annoyed, at the batter-splattered bowls and broken eggshells he’d ignored during the baking process. The Tabasco seasoning had also tipped over at some point, dotting the counter like a fire ant infestation.

“I’ll go.” Viet climbed down the stool. “Maybe she just needs someone to talk to, get things off her mind before the interview.”

“That should be Jake’s job.” Tate sighed, shaking his head.

“You go ahead, Viet,” Kale replied. “Bring along a muffin too. She probably didn’t eat yet.”

There. That tone. It sounded too… knowing.

The coffee cup, their fingers touching. Did Kale sense his feelings, then?

Or did he notice what had happened at the picnic?

The picnic was the second time meeting Jake—and he wasn’t a fan. He was tall, composed, and as the third-year walked over to their spot, he was constantly stopped by other classmates, and delayed getting to Evie, who seemed familiar with his popularity.

Jake was seldom brought up by Evie, and he figured the others didn’t like him that much. Tate’s earlier words suggested as much. Their group exchanged brief hellos, and he remembered the guy’s blank expression when Evie re-introduced him. Jake stuck close to Evie and didn’t really talk to the others. Had that distance always been there? Was that why he wasn’t a part of the Saturday Sins group? Did it bother Evie?

Jake later lounged with his head in Evie’s lap. Viet caught her mindlessly running her hand through the guy’s hair. It was intimate. It proved that Evie was one-half of a couple; he’d never considered that she might be a different Evie with Jake. Was she more serious? Was she calmer? Did she run with him on the days she didn’t run with Viet? From what Viet saw, they were clearly content together.

And he’d never felt lonelier.

He must have stared for too long because Evie, waving at him, snapped him awake, and he needed to seem composed. He couldn’t reveal it was her who caught his attention, not the sunset behind her.

Kale now told him to wait; he was wrapping up the muffin in tinfoil, happy that he could hand off his food to yet another guinea pig.

There was nothing to worry about. A friend was allowed to do this.

When they heard Evie had gotten an interview request, Viet had bought her a congratulatory coffee to mask his guilt, which swarmed his thoughts since then, and were now at a low simmer. Guilt that he wanted to be close to her when she saw him as nothing more than a good friend. Guilt that, just maybe, he confused his gratitude for her act of kindness—their talk and their run—with affection. His heart clenched.

He couldn’t have this crush, whatever it was called. Because they could never be together.