Page 21

CHAPTER 21

W rapping my coat tighter around me, I walk faster to outrun the last hour, sweating despite the crisp night. Burning with shame and embarrassment after Marcus’s grandmother walked in on us half naked. Fighting. Frustrated. Messy.

I walk faster, like I can get away from myself. Things were just fine until my hormones took control. I shouldn’t have thrown myself at him even if I’m completely in love with him. I thought he felt the same way. I thought I saw it in his eyes. But he wasn’t so ready to throw away his future and his relationship with his dad, and I wasn’t ready to tell him the truth about my mess of a life.

I haven’t seen him that frustrated, even after Holden and Xander. When it poured out of him tonight, I emotionally retreated. Like I’ve done my whole life with Mama and Baba and, more recently, Nick. But never with Marcus.

When he asked me to tell him the truth about my life, everything inside me shut down, reminding me to stop pretending. Telling him won’t change my life, and Marcus deserves the truth. Until tonight, he’s allowed me to keep my secrets, even gotten hurt over them. He didn’t do anything to deserve that. So we’re over before we even really started.

Tears prick my eyes as I round the corner, but my Marcus thoughts screech to a halt because Nick’s standing at the front entrance of the restaurant talking to Baba. I take a step back, but Nick’s gaze flicks to me and pins me in place while a thin smile stretches his lips.

“Just the person I came to see.” He holds out his arms and walks toward me, dark memories running ahead of him and slamming into me. Blood on a flower rug. Chandelier. King size bed. Pain. Shame. Realization.

I swallow all of it in a bitter lump. I’m trapped between him and all the secrets I’d have to dodge to run back to Marcus’s. My voice cowers deep inside me when Nick wraps his arms around me in a full body strangle.

“I’ve missed you. But I have good news. Great news, actually.” He pulls away, his hand sliding to my lower back as he turns us toward Baba. “My table ready?”

I straighten to minimize contact between his hand and my back where Marcus’s fingers were ten minutes ago.

“It is.” Baba gestures to the door.

“Wonderful.” Nick reaches for my hand, pulling me behind him, my legs stiff, ready to run in another direction—anywhere that’s not here. But I have to stay and pretend Nick matters to me, just like I’ve been pretending in my texts to him.

I follow him through the dining room to his table where he pulls out my chair. I slide into it, the wood hard and unyielding, and I swallow fear as he sits across from me. The flame of the flickering candle on the table bends in his breeze, throwing sharp shadows on his face.

Ya Ting glances at me and my eyes never leave hers as she gives a weak smile and sets down water glasses before taking our orders. I will her to see my desperation to get away, but Nick’s attention is fixed on my face like a set of claws piercing sensitive skin. He’s going to peel me open, put slashes in me that leak all I’ve hidden from him. But maybe he’ll see how empty I am and realize I’m not worth his time.

Ya Ting leaves, and I try to think of any excuse to call her back, but Nick’s attention digs in deeper, clawing at nerves, and I almost dare him to rip me open. He throws a beaming smile at me like a blade, severing my thoughts.

“Tell me everything I missed while I was gone.”

I stare into the dark holes that are his eyes. Does he not remember what he did to me? Is he going to say nothing about his guys following me? Hurting Marcus?

I dig my nails into my thigh under the table. “Umm…Just homework and restaurant.” My restless hands go to my fork, and I rub the handle until my fingertip burns.

“And that’s exactly why I will get you out of San Francisco. You’ll experience something new and exciting. In fact,” He pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks it on, swiping the screen. “I showed Chef Torres a few pictures of your creations and she was impressed.” He flashes me a picture of a French Asian fusion recipe I made up a few months ago. When I thought my future was straightforward. Back when I wasn’t afraid of Nick. Or aware that Marcus and happiness could be part of my life.

“She said she’d love to see more from you.”

I press my lips together and force them into a wobbly smile. “Wow. That’s great.” If only my heartache and fear would let some excitement through.

“It takes a lot to impress her, but I think I managed to.” He leans back, folding his arms over his chest. “And it’s only going to get better. I found us an apartment in L.A. with unbelievable views, brand new, best of the best. All it’s missing is you.”

I swallow and glance at the table, hoping to find a response written on it, but he squeezes my hand and I look up at him. My emotions are no longer rooted, and words fly past them. “It sounds amazing, but I’m not sure I’m ready for all that and…I don’t know, I just—”

“You’re just confused.” Nick tilts his head. “That’s the natural consequence of playing house with the detective’s son.”

My eyes snap to his, my pulse rapid gunfire, and I open my mouth to fire back an equally rapid denial, but Nick shakes his head.

“While I’ve been busy coordinating a beautiful future for us, you’ve been betraying me and your family.” He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know this side of you—the total disregard for our plan and for what I’m doing for you.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull it back. He hesitates, then goes on. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but we’ve gotten through them. Would you turn your back on everything you could have for some little boy whose father could snatch your dreams and send you all back to Taiwan?”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t interrupt me.” His voice lunges at me and I ball my fists in my lap to resist throwing my hands over my face like a shield. “I’ve given you everything you could possibly want, but it’s not enough, I guess. And what’s so baffling is how much you’re willing to throw away for a boy. I understand being curious, but you and I both know this can’t last. It’s impossible. You know that right?”

“Let me just tell you what—”

“No. Let me tell you.” He sits forward, his voice a low clap of thunder. “You’re a brilliant chef but not brilliant enough on your own, so next Thursday, you’re going with me to L.A. to meet Chef Torres. You will intern with her over the summer because I will not let you embarrass me by backing out. You’ve been telling me about your dreams for years and I’m making them happen. We’ll live a life of complete luxury—culinary school in Napa in the fall, open a restaurant when you finish. Become the next big thing on the L.A. food scene. What more could I possibly give you?”

My eyes strain to hold in confused, misdirected tears I should have cried for Marcus but will waste on my own stupidity. I bite my quivering lip. What I used to see as my chance at freedom is coming out of Nick’s mouth like chains. I don’t want to work with him, but I don’t want to be stuck here forever, around the corner from what could have been. Even though what could have been ended when my shirt hit the floor.

My face burns and my voice is thin like it might snap. “I could have done it myself and saved you the trouble.” I picture Chef Marco in his white coat, elbowing his way through a crowd to tell me I’m going places. On my own, not because of Nick.

Nick smiles at the table, then looks back up at me. “You’d have to start at the bottom like everyone else. It would take you years to get a chance like the one I’m handing you.”

I curl my toes and search his face, my neck tight with anger and hatred. “Why?” He knows about Marcus. And that I’ve been avoiding him—lying to him with every text. He has to know I don’t feel the way he wants me to feel about him. I dig my nails into my thighs. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilts his head. “Because. You didn’t get to this country without my father’s help and I’m the one keeping you in it. You want out of your house but can’t do it without me. I’m making that possible for you because I’ve always loved you, despite how you choose to repay my generosity.” He folds his hands on the table and talks to them. “All I want is the best for you. So, tell me how that makes me the bad guy.”

When he looks up at me, my thoughts slump, deflated, because he’s right. I can’t get out of my house without him. I can’t get into culinary school—or into any college—on my own because I’m not even supposed to be in America. Nick and his connections are the only way for me to stay and do anything. Not even Marcus could have changed that.

Nick reaches across the table and grabs my hand, his thumb moving along my knuckles. “I know you’re scared, and I know you have your plans, but they won’t work without me. People will get hurt. Your family…me.” He rubs my hand. “The detective’s son.” His voice scrapes against my ears as he tightens his grip on my hand.

I tense, fighting the urge to rip my hand away.

“You can have everything. Or nothing. Your choice.”

The meaning behind his words oozes into my empty spaces.

“Don’t you see how beautiful your life could be? How easy and different from all this?” His dark eyes scan the dining room before landing on mine again, pouring black into me and just before I drown in realization, I nod once. An hour ago, I was ready to give myself and all my secrets to Marcus. Now, I’m reminded I have nothing that’s mine to give.

Nick’s smile broadens but doesn’t add any light to his tone. “There’s the girl I love. I knew she would come to her senses. You’ve forgiven me and I forgive you.” He picks up his water glass and takes a long, demanding drink, then sets it down and leans toward me. “So let’s talk about L.A.”

He shifts the conversation to Chef Torres’s restaurant. A black-tie event. A dress. Jewelry. Something about showing me off. How I should act and what I should and should not say. I can’t hear any of the details over the sound of my mind frantically beating on Marcus’s door. But I can’t run to him. I can never see him again. His voice will never rumble through me, saying nerdy things that make me laugh. Asking questions that dig around my soul. I’ll never feel his hands running through my hair. His body wrapped around mine like a shield.

I’ll never get to tell him the truth.

If I let Nick’s darkness flow into me, it will suffocate all my secrets, all my guilt, all my Marcus memories and happiness and hope. But empty has to feel better than fragments of myself tearing me open from the inside. Letting Nick in is the quickest way to kill it all and put me back in reality.

I stare right into the darkness behind his eyes through the rest of dinner, only closing mine when Nick’s lips force mine open in his version of making me understand before he leaves the restaurant.

When he’s gone, his darkness hangs from me, trails me up to my room. It pulls me to the floor and floods me as I sob out whatever’s left inside me until my phone buzzes, throwing light into the black silence.

I uncurl from my ball on the floor and pull it out, clutching my throat as I read:

Marcus: I’m sorry Mei. Everything was moving so fast and then Meemaw walked in and holy freak. I’m sorry about all of it. All the things I said before she came. How frustrated I got. Meemaw wanted to chat me up so I couldn’t text until now. Can you talk?

I blink through the haze in my head made of hope mixing with reality. End it. Now. If Marcus and I weren’t already hanging by a thread, Nick cut it, and what we had dropped to the ground and shattered along with my hope. Marcus would have eventually seen my world and ended things, anyway. He would never have understood. I don’t understand it either.

I hold my breath, stare at the screen that’s alive with Marcus’s words. But my stiff, cold fingers type, then slide over the send button:

Mei: I think we should take a break.

Another buzz:

Marcus: WHAT…? No. We just need to talk it out. I’m sorry I got mad and said things I didn’t mean. I talked to Meemaw and everything’s cool with her. We can work through this. Just please answer your phone.

My phone vibrates with an incoming call, and I put my hand over my heart so it can’t hear Marcus’s call, then quickly text before I lose my nerve:

Mei: I need some space.

My video chat beeps and Marcus’s picture grins at me so brightly I squint, then close my eyes and trap the picture, dropping my phone face down on the carpet to suffocate the beeps. Two seconds later, another text vibrates my phone, and I take a deep breath, flipping it over to see the screen.

Marcus: Literal space or figurative?

My chest tightens, but this is the only way to keep my hope dead:

Mei: Both.

I hurl my phone at the wall, hoping it shatters, then curl back into a ball.

A few minutes later, someone knocks on my window and I press my palms to my eyes, swipe at tears. Three taps—three times, pause, two more taps. Not any someone. Marcus.

Sitting up, I stare at the drawn curtains like I can sweep them aside with my eyes. My feet flex. All I have to do is open the window, tell him the truth. Run from here, go wherever he goes. But Nick’s darkness is all over me; I don’t want Marcus to see it, so I curl back into a ball on the floor, digging my nails into my arm until the knocking stops.

The bell rings and everyone in my calculus class pours from the room to start their three-day weekend. The seniors are going to Santa Cruz tomorrow for our final class trip. Most of them, anyway. I can’t step out of my apartment without worrying Nick’s guys are following me. They’re constant reminders of my consequences. Xander followed my bus to school today and I just hope Marcus made it home last night after he came to my fire escape. He’s been hurt enough by my mistakes.

I slip across the hall to the bathroom and lock myself in a stall. Taking a shaky breath, I pull my phone from my satchel, turn it on, and wait for the buzz that is Marcus on the other end. Not reading his texts for the last four hours is me putting space between us. Even though what I want is exactly the opposite and my eyes are starved for his words:

Marcus: Trying to respect your “SPACE” but withdrawals are killing me. Will you please call me? Text, note, whatever. Just talk to me.

I hold my phone to my heart like I can shove his words inside me, and close my eyes, swallowing a sob when it buzzes again, my heart beating toward it.

Marcus: MEIIIIIII!!!! *#@%, *#@$, *#@%!

We are not over. We’re not supposed to have an end remember?

I stare at my phone until the words go blurry. Marcus will eventually find the end, but right now, his texts are all I have, and I read them over and over until my phone buzzes again. I take a deep breath, letting it out before reading:

Marcus: I miss you so bad. Please talk to me.

A tear escapes and I swipe it away. If I could respond, I’d tell him ‘miss’ isn’t a strong enough word for what I’m feeling. Sorry isn’t a strong enough apology. I’d tell him I meant it when I said I loved him. That it hasn’t changed and never will. I’d tell him the reason for the secrets. If I was in charge, I’d never give Marcus a reason to run from me like I ran from him.

My phone rings and I silence it when Mmm blares from the screen. I stare at the beautiful letters, picturing the beautiful boy they belong to until the call goes to voicemail, joining eight other messages I’ve forced myself to ignore.

I burst out of the stall, clutching my phone, not caring which of Nick’s guys will be waiting outside the school to make sure I go straight home without any detours. I don’t care if I never make it home. All that’s there is fear and dread over going to L.A. with Nick next week and what my life will look like after that.

What I want is Marcus’s arms wrapped all the way around me until I am hidden in his safe, happy world. I want the tenderness of his lips on my neck that tell me exactly how he feels without saying a word. His laugh and the funny stories he tells me and the way he points out weird things I never would have noticed. Our hours of talking because we always have more to say but never enough time. His confidence. How he always wants to know my opinion and asks me a million questions. The way his brain works, and his smile when I walk into the room. How much he loves his dad. That he keeps the promises he makes. How, for one brief, shiny moment, he pulled me into his perfect world, not knowing anything about me, not caring when he found out I’m not safe or perfect. In that small moment, I felt what it was like to be perfectly happy.

I hurry down the hallway, past my classroom, past the offices. Running from everything and toward nothing. My phone buzzes again and I veer toward a corner, look at the screen, the words squeezing oxygen from my lungs. I lean against a locker as what’s left of my heart crumbles:

Marcus: I love you Mei.