Nothing surprises me about Eloise anymore, so I don’t even ask.
“So what happened today?” she asks after a while, with a mouthful of pancit.
I start with a quick summary of the Fall Festival, embellishing the details a bit and painting myself to be the hero who rescued the entire festival and the lives of hundreds of families.
“So, and just reading between the lines here, George, what actually happened was that you ran your mouth to that shitty dad you told me about a few weeks ago, and then someone else came and saved the day.”
I sigh. “Oliver.”
She points a lumpia at me. “That asshole?”
“That asshole saved the day. Like a half-Filipino Superman.”
“Hot.”
“Tragically so.”
“Then what?”
“Then… his mom kidnapped me and brought me to their house, where I met Oliver’s entire immediate and extended family?”
A piece of lumpia falls out of Weezy’s mouth. “PLOT TWIST, MUCH?!”
“And then… and then he walked me home and pulled my hair and shoved his thumb in my mouth?”
Eloise throws a lumpia in my face. “SHOVED?!”
“And then I sucked on it,” I mumble.
“EXCUSE ME?!” Eloise now stands on the couch.
“And I liked it,” I whisper.
Eloise full body tackles me.
After a struggle, during which Eloise bodily throws me on the floor using her ten years of MMA skills, we sit side by side on the couch, munching on floor lumpia. I go into detail about how Oliver’s mother found me and took me home. I tellher all about Oliver’s family and how much fun I had with them.
“They kinda sound like your parents, George,” she tells me.
“I don’t know,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable. “Maybe.”
“Definitely the opposite of Jake’s parents.”
“That, I can wholeheartedly agree with,” I reply. “But not like it matters. They’re not like my newfound family or anything. It’s not like I’m going todate Oliveror anything.”
“No,” she agrees.
“What do you mean, no?!” I say, inexplicably offended.
“What do you mean, what do I mean, no?!” she shoots back. “You said it yourself—he’s a condescending jerk. And what else have you said? He’s all stiff and buttoned up? A consummate rule-follower? Student test scores and shit? And he labeled everything in his office with a label maker?” She wrinkles her nose. “And all the books in his bookshelf are organized in alphabetical order by author's last name?”
“Actually, I like that about him.” I actually think I’m starting to like all those other things about him, too.
“And like, you irritate the fuck out of each other?” she continues, ignoring me. “Plus, you can’t just date your boss.”
“Why not?!”
“Now you’re just being contrarian for the hell of it.”
