“What do you mean?”
“That time you told me you’d send someone to look into if Noah was cheating on me. It kind of threw me off but… you weren’t joking were you?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shake my head. Knowing I would have reached back out to these guys if Jay asked for it. I would have put myself back in danger by communicating with them again—all for his well-being. It’s stupid and foolish, I know. But he was hurting… and I wasn’t there to do it myself.
He picks up on my affirmation, but I keep exposing myself to him. “When I saw those guys again today, I had to do whatever it took to make sure they didn’t know who you were. It wasn’t because I’m embarrassed by you, Jay. It’s because you mean everything to me, and I didn’t want them to know that. I didn’t want them to use you as leverage.”
Realization paints his face. “Oh. Shit. I’m sorry I—”
I push off the counter and interrupt him. “Don’t be sorry.I’msorry I had to put you in this situation to begin with.”
He stands back up from his chair and wraps his arms around me. It’s surprising, but it’s so fucking comforting.
“I got out of that conversation as soon as I could,” I say as we break apart. “They wanted me to work another job with them, but I turned it down.”
“How’d they take it?”
“Well enough. I set them straight. Told them I’m out for good.”
“Good. The lady at the Chinese takeout acted like a strange man running through the back of her kitchen was a common occurrence.”
I smile at him and thank my lucky stars he got out safely.
Chapter 21
About Last Night
Marco
Three Years Ago
Reliefsettlesinmybody and we both take showers to wash off the yoga sweat and adrenaline before returning to the living room to devour our unplanned Chinese takeout. Jay puts on an episode ofThe Office, like we usually do. It all feels so familiar and safe; and I think now is as good a time as any to bring this up.
With my chopsticks, I push around my lo mein and clear my throat. “Last night, Jay… Do you wanna talk about it?”
Jay’s whole body freezes mid-bite as his brows crease and his eyes dart to me. “What about it?”
“At the bar. What you told me about not feeling connected to Korean culture.”
His shoulders look to relax as the corner of his mouth quirks slightly. “Oh. Yeah. That.” Setting his carton on the coffee table, he leans back and runs his palms down his thighs.
“Until last night, you’ve never really talked about that with me,” I say, placing my own container next to his.
“It’s not something I talk to many people about.”
“Would you talk to me about it?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, nodding to me. “I love my parents, I do. But looking so different from them and the rest of my family was never something I could ignore, unlike them. I was always different from my peers, too. When I was in middle school, I remember being so happy to meet another Asian boy, Toru, who was Japanese American. His parents were Japanese too. I thought maybe now I could feel some kind of belonging. But he ended up teasing me mercilessly because I wasn’treallyAsian. Other kids would join in, and I can recognize now that I one hundred percent developed my personality from this. At my expense, I would join in and agree with my classmates, laughing with them that I was actually white on the inside.”
Throwing his head back on the couch, he sighs deep. “I was tired of feeling left out, so I made myself the butt of the joke and tried to steer their laughter somewhere else. And it worked. I became popular enough to have a solid group of friends that actually cared about me. Several groups, really. I don’t know if you know this, Marco, but I’m kind of a social butterfly.”
“I did notice,” I grin.
“But even then, even through high school, those close friends didn’t understand my struggle. The same tired joke thatJay Bishop is a bananakept circulating. And I kept letting it.
“Then, when I went to college, I decided to turn a new leaf. I wasn’t going to cater to those jokes anymore. I tried making friends with other Asians on campus and in my dorm. But I still felt like I wasn’t accepted by them.”
“I’m sorry, Jay. That sucks.” I don’t know what else to tell him.
