Another container of chicken lo mein was sitting there. This one, with extra chicken, peppers, onions, and heavy on the chili oil.
I picked up the container and turned it over in my hand as I tried to make sense of it. Something about it felt right, but I couldn’t remember why. I glanced at the one I’d already pulled out, then back at this one, my mind too fuzzy to see the big picture.
I didn’t order my food like this. I knew that. So why did it pull at me like this?
My thumb pressed into the lid as I forced my mind to clear, piece by piece. The extra chicken. The peppers. The onions. The insane amount of chili oil. I didn’t go that hard.
It took a second longer than I liked to come back to me, but when it finally did, it punched me right in the heart.
Booda’s name flashed in my mind, accompanied by the familiar scent of his cologne and the slurping sounds he made when he was sucking up noodles.
This was exactly how he ordered his chicken lo mein.
I looked up at Tink. “What kind of games are you playing? Why did you get this?”
“What?” He leaned forward, trying to see past me.
I moved to the side so he could get a look at the extra container. “That. I didn’t tell you to get that.”
He frowned. “Yeah, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” he said as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket to pull up our texts. “See.” He showed me the device. “You said get two.”
I stared at the container, then back at him. “Damn. I texted that?”
“Yeah. You don’t remember?” Tink asked.
I flashed him a tight smile. “I remember. I was just messing with you.”
“Um-hmm,” he replied, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in disbelief.
I could see the doubt etched on his face, mixed with a bit of worry and confusion as he stood there with his arms crossed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, silently scrutinizing me as if he could peel back my layers and uncover the truth behind my forced smile.
Pretending not to pay him any attention, I set Booda’s order off to the side, separating it from the rest. “I’ll eat that later,” I said, mostly to myself.
Tink lingered by the counter, and I could feel him still trying to piece together what was happening in my head.
I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me unravel over a container of noodles, so I busied myself with putting everything away.
“You need anything else?” he asked after a minute, his voice careful.
“Nah. You good. I’ll hit you up if I need you again.”
He nodded and turned, heading for the exit.
“Tink,” I called out before he could reach it.
He stopped and looked back at me.
“Don’t come by unannounced. Call first.”
“I know,” he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “My momma is having a birthday barbecue today. She said you should come.”
I kept my back to him as I stacked the containers in the fridge. “Nah. I’m good where I’m at.”
“You don’t seem good.”
