Page 13

CHAPTER 13

Marcus: Mei Day, Mei Day, going down. Sooo tired. FaceTiming until 2 AM takes it out of a guy. Know that guy we saw in Union Station yesterday with the fedora who was sleeping standing up? I’m that tired. 429% Worth it, though. Church isn’t helping. I legit head bobbed and got an elbow to the rib. What are you doing?

Mei: Thinking about you.

Marcus: I approve of this. We’re in 2 different places doing the same thing even when I’m supposed to be thinking about Jesus. Jesus and I are cool though. Got a text from him just now that says you and I should hang out again. Sooner than soon. Quicker than ASAP. Muy rapido. And whatever “fast” is in Chinese. That. Don’t know if I can wait until tomorrow night.

Mei: I love that hint from Jesus. He and Buddha probably talked. But bad news—I have to go. ? Thanks for the note. Still smiling.

Marcus: NOOOOOOOOO……….

Mei: I’ll text after my shift.

Marcus: We should hang after your shift. Maybe we can stay…by the bay…catch some rays…the rest of the day. Yay?

Mei: If I could, it would…be so, so good. It would be my tres favorite day…says Mei…but I have to work at 2…Boo…rather be with you…

Marcus: Guess it’s just me and Jesus until tomorrow night. Then? You and me, #Dos Date…of Fate…don’t be late…

I f only Marcus knew the truth about me.

I almost told him so many times yesterday. We’d texted the entire day. Marcus counted 1353 texts. Plenty of chances to tell him the truth, but I got scared. So…maybe tonight.

People stream past me, carrying blankets and pillows, lawn chairs and wine bottles. I scan the faces of the couples holding hands and laughing as they disappear down the grassy hill toward the movie screen. Two guys in glow-in-the-dark footie pajamas dart through the crowd holding hands as a group of old ladies flutters past in Audrey Hepburn hats, robes, and slippers. Marcus texted saying he was on his way and my nerves are swirling in gusts of excitement and a bit of adrenaline, sparky and jittery.

I scan the park and spot him coming down the steps in straight-leg jeans rolled at the ankle, a black hoodie, backwards baseball cap, and his gray Adidas. I swallow and clench my fists at my side, digging my nails into my palm because it’s Marcus Miller, and he’s here with me.

When he sees me, his smile bursts in the dim backdrop and he jogs toward me where I stand by the Mexican Liberty Bell. All thoughts of dimming that smile with my reality evaporate into the cloudy sky.

“Hey.” He bends and wraps his arms around me, picking me off my feet. Which is perfect since he makes my legs wobbly every time I see him. I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in spearmint, his cheek warm against mine.

“Guo Mama gave me your note,” I say, smiling over his shoulder.

He lets me slide through his arms until my feet touch the ground, then laces his fingers with mine. “Dropped it off after youth group.” His voice rumbles over, around, through me. “Guo had the guts to open it and read it right in front of me. She looked at me like she was gonna kiss me.” He smiles over my head then down at me, gripping my hands and spreading our arms out like wings, pulling me into his chest. “Thankfully she only patted my butt, so I made it out unscathed. Still a little shaken, though.”

I laugh into his chest, then tilt my head back to see his face. “I think you kind of like it.”

He leans into me, his mouth on my ear sending vibrations through me. “Would prefer an atta boy from a certain Taiwanese girl a whole lot more, but hey—Guo’s pretty hot for a 200-year-old.” He smiles into the air, and I lead him down the path toward the sea of people spread across the grass in front of the giant projector screen.

“What have you planned tonight besides checking out my butt?”

I bump him with my hip. “Already done that, nothing new.” I say through a smile, and he stops, turning to me .

“I’ve heard about you, Ms. Zhang…” He shakes his head as I pull him across the grass. “Just glad I wore these jeans ‘cause they make my butt look unbelievable.”

I roll my eyes at him but can’t stop a smile as I wrap my hand around his bicep and squeeze.

“But really,” he says, scanning the crowd, “what have you planned this fine April evening?”

“I was thinking we’d hang here for a bit. Just us. And all these people. And Audrey Hepburn.” I nod toward the giant screen. “My white van is in the shop, but I brought the candy. And some Oreos, so if you don’t like the movie, at least your stomach and bloodstream will be happy.”

“What’re we watching?”

“The original Sabrina. My favorite.”

“Huh.” He nods and we bump together as we walk down the grassy hill. “Never seen it.”

“That’s because you have no female influence to show you all the good stuff.”

“Oh, I have a female influence. My aunt is extraordinarily girly, but she likes German films. Super weird. And Meemaw watches Hallmark, so no thanks. Guess you’ll be my first.” He stops walking and looks down at me, shaking his head. “Uh…didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

I laugh but my blush goes through all my skin layers and down into my heart. “Guess we’ll stick to movies for now.”

We find the perfect spot by a tree behind a row of couples already snuggled under blankets, and I pull out mine.

“Kinda disappointed in my dino blankie now.” Marcus spreads out the blanket. “Yours is so sophisticated.”

I smile at the flowers and stripes. “It’s the longest one I could find. Trying to get used to this tall person stuff.” Kneeling, I open my satchel and pull out a family-sized package of Double Stuff Oreos, two small milks, two plastic bowls, and spoons .

Marcus’s eyes light up. “I didn’t think this night could get any better.”

“I do know a few things about the infamous Marcus Miller. Even though there’s one very important thing I must know before the movie starts.”

“Okay…” He lowers himself to the blanket and I check out his bum—which looks exceptional in those jeans—before he rolls to his side, facing me. “What do you desperately wanna know about me?”

“Promise you’ll be 100 percent honest?”

He frowns. “Uh, whatever you heard, I didn’t do it.”

I laugh and pull two bags from my satchel and set them in front of him. “Twizzlers or Red Vines?”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes and snatches the Red Vines, lifting onto his elbow to rip open the bag.

“That’s a huge relief,” I say, dropping the Twizzlers back into my bag. “This night can proceed as planned.”

He rips a piece of licorice with his teeth. “What would happen if I’d said Twizzlers?”

“I would’ve gotten cozy with him.” I tilt my head toward a guy with his life-sized teddy bear and lay on my stomach beside Marcus, our shoulders smashed together.

“Guess it would’ve been me and the licorice, then.” He rummages for another piece, our faces so close, I can count the freckles on the bridge of his nose. Four.

Marcus sticks a piece of licorice between his teeth and holds it toward me like a bridge between our lips. I glance at it, then meet his eyes, back to the licorice, then to his eyes again before leaning closer to him, biting the piece in half.

He sucks in the remaining piece, chews, and wiggles his eyebrows. “That was a close one,” he whispers, then breaks off a tiny piece and sticks it between his lips again. If I take a bite, our lips will touch, but he laughs and shakes his head as he chews.

“Kidding. I want you to kiss me whenever you’re ready. Just like, anytime. Now’s fine. Or whenever.” He gives me a sidelong glance, then laughs. “Okay, seriously though. Only kidding. Really. No pressure at all—it’ll happen when it happens. And it will. I’m just happy to be here, laying on a tall person blanket in Dolores Park when my dad thinks I’m playing video games at Johnny’s. And Johnny thinks I’m with my aunt. And my aunt thinks I’m at soccer practice. Very delicate balance to be with you, but I’d say…304 percent worth it.”

The movie starts, and I drop Oreos into our bowls, then drown them in milk. Marcus sets his phone timer for 4 ⒈／⒉ minutes and we wait before digging in, laying on our stomachs and watching Sabrina in all her awkwardness. By the time she gets to Paris, Marcus has had two bowls of Oreos and is lying on his back, head propped up on my bag, Red Vines in hand. I’m lying on my side, my head on his chest, arm draped over him.

His fingertips ripple up and down my spine and when he laughs at something on the screen, my head bounces, but I’m paying more attention to his heart beating beneath my ear: solid, steady, eager. I listen to it until Sabrina gets her hair cut and lift my head, resting my chin on my hand that’s spread on his stomach. “What do you think about girls with short hair?”

“Ah, loaded question,” he says to the sky before looking at me. “My dad’s warned me about these.” He smooths his hand over my hair and down the side of my face. “I think…it’s just hair. Some girls, like this Asian girl watching an old-school movie right now, would look good with short hair, long hair, no hair. A bald Mei would still be a hot Mei.”

I roll my eyes and pinch his stomach until he laughs.

When the credits roll, I sit up and look down at him. “Well? What did you think?”

He puts his hands under his head, his eyes glossy in the lamppost light. “That was my first black and white movie and…I liked it. Especially the part where she’s in culinary school. Just glad you’re not going to Paris. But if you were, I’d find a way to make it work.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Make what work…?” I smile and lean closer.

“Well…I’ve heard rumors that there’s an incredibly funny, brave…interesting…hot, talented…hot…girl with hair who’s going to culinary school and will eventually be my girlfriend, so if the rumors are true, I’m gonna have to find ways to see her. A lot.”

I curl my toes and flex my fingers that want to fly over my heart to keep it from flipping out of my chest. “Does this girl know how you feel?”

His eyes shoot blue light straight through me. “I think she’s starting to figure it out.”

I smile and pull him to his feet before we shove my blanket and the leftover food inside my bag. We toss our bowls in the garbage on the way out of the park and head toward Chinatown until Marcus tugs on my hand and stops.

“It’s only 11:30. Way too early for us to go home, especially since I was hoping to stay out late and fall asleep during history tomorrow.” Marcus takes my bag, throws it over his head and shoulder, then grabs my hand again and veers us out of the crowd in the opposite direction of Chinatown. “I know my dad’s asleep on the couch because he hasn’t responded to my text, so I’ve got time. Whaddya say to a midnight stroll through the Mission? Dodge a few piles of poo and some syringes? Super safe. My dad wouldn’t hate this idea at all.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.

I think about the streets I walk to Nick’s house and wonder what Marcus’s dad would say about me walking them alone at night. Baba doesn’t care when it’s an errand for him. But after last time, I’m more afraid of Nick than I am of whatever or whoever is in the dark alleys .

Marcus slows in front of a shop window display, turning us to face it. He points at the mannequins. “Which outfit would you choose? Just curious. Think I know, but I wanna see if I’m right.”

I smile and scan the summer dresses in all shades of blue, orange, and yellow. “Probably…that one.” I point at the flowy, short blue V-neck dress with long, loose sleeves.

Marcus looks at it, then me. “I was right. And you’d look way better in it than she does. When you take your yacht to the bi-annual kitty kite festival that was scheduled for a Mediterranean island but got relocated to Nova Scotia. You might be cold, but you’ll look fabulous.”

I laugh so hard my face aches while I wonder how I can make nights like this last forever.