Last night felt like a hazy dream. The jungle juice gave me a false sense of confidence, leading to questionable decisions in public parks. Tyler, bless his soul, drove me home, and we shared nuggets in his car while drowning in my playlists. He even walked me to my door, playing the role of the perfect gentleman.
After his confession, I didn’t say anything back and Tyler didn’t press me for an answer. It’s not because I didn’t reciprocate his feelings, I was stunned and also half drunk, which allowed me to laugh it off and blame it on the alcohol. In the end, we finished our nuggets in his car and listened to a few of myplaylists. He drove me home and insisted on walking me to my door. It should be the end of the story, but it’s not.
I’ve worked so hard to keep brushing off my feelings for Tyler as just a simple crush, nothing serious. Crushes can fade just like how I had a crush on a Boba Republic customer who would constantly order wintermelon milk tea with crystal boba. I’ve always defined crushes to be fleeting and temporary. They always fade away.
But lately, it’s been getting hard, way too damn hard to ignore the way my heart races whenever he’s around. The way my face instantly flushes just at his mere presence. The way he lights up when he talks about his little sister and the latest play date she had at daycare. It’s every little thing he does that draws me closer every day at our sessions, when he walks me to practice, and when he drives me home. As much as I’ve tried to push these feelings aside, they only get stronger. It’s like those fluttery sensations have taken on a life of their own, morphing into something more substantial, more... real, which fucking terrifies me.
I used to think I could always keep my emotions in check, but now I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to this than just a fleeting attraction. Maybe, just maybe, I’m beginning to develop genuine feelings for Tyler.
Am I all in? I sink my face more into the pillow, silently praying for sweet relief from the unruly pounding against my skull.
Soft taps at my bedroom door disrupt me from my inner thoughts.
“Come in,” I say, repositioning my back to lean against my bed frame.
My aunt strides into my room, bearing a cup of peppermint tea. “Brought you some tea.”
I accept the cup with both hands and take small sips. “Thank you.”
“How was the party last night?” Aunt Lina asks, making herself cozy on the foot of my bed. Her belly has grown even more in the last week; I’m surprised she can look even more pregnant at almost eight months. “Jared didn’t get home until late. Party animal, I’m telling you.”
“Party boy until the day he dies.” I set the tea on my nightstand and straighten my body against my bed. “It was fun.”
Aunt Lina nods and pats my leg, “I made you somekhao piek.”
Khao piekis my favorite soup that she hates to make. The equivalent of American chicken noodle soup. The noodles can be a tedious process. I’ve told her to just buy the premade noodles from the Asian store, but she refuses. Making them homemade is an extremely messy process from mixing tapioca and rice flour and getting the right amount of water to form it into a firmdough. Normally, I would turn a blind eye to the sound of my favorite soup dish, but Aunt Linaonlymakes this when she needs something from me.
I raise a brow at her, “What do you want from me?”
Aunt Lina rests a hand on her chest like I just accused her of murder. “I’m your aunt, I can’t just make you your favorite soup?”
“Not when you need something from me.”
Aunt Lina twiddles with her fingers, a habit I recognize from my own tendency to play with my hair tie. That reminds me, I still have Tyler’s leather bracelet on; returning it slipped my mind. I make a mental note to give it back at our next tutoring session.
“I may have miscounted one of my egg roll orders.”
“Miscounted?”
Aunt Lina nods.
“Like are you missing fifty egg rolls? I’m sure they won’t notice.” I might have saved some food in past orders and no one’s ever caught me.
Still twiddling with her hands, she sighs, “More like three hundred.”
My eyes bug out and I’m surprised they haven’t fallen out of my eye sockets. “Auntie!”
Aunt Lina covers her face with both hands in embarrassment. “It’s my stupid pregnancy brain, you can’t blame me.”
“Three hundred is… three hundred is a shit ton,” I mutter, rubbing my fingers over my eyebrow. “Okay, when do you need them ready? I don’t know what everyone is doing–”
“Tonight.”
My jaw cracks open. “Tonight?”
Aunt Lina nods, her face turning another shade of red. “I talked to the customer and she’s fine if I deliver it right before the party at 4 p.m.”
“You’re telling me we have to roll and fry three hundred egg rolls,” I check my phone for the time, “in six hours?”
