The man isfoine.
His eyes meet mine, and a smile appears on his face. “Hey,” I greet him, trying desperately not to purr.
He pulls out his earbud, and his smile widens. “Hey!” His innocence always offsets my misplaced horniness, and for that, I am thankful.
“Is that him?” Junie asks.
I mute myself to talk to Liem. “Do you want to talk to my friends? They’re worried you’re going to murder me.”
“You were too,” he says with a laugh. “My kind do have a proclivity for murder. It’s a statistically sound suspicion.”
“Okay, but don’t say that tothem.”
He sits next to me and leans into frame. “Hi, I’m Liem.”
Cheek to cheek to get a better view, Junie and Keisha’s eyes widen and their lips pucker when they see him. They exchange a glance beneath raised brows, about to embarrass me.
“Now we see why you want to move in,” Junie says.
“Mm-hmm,” Keisha agrees with her conniving smile.
Ignoring them, I turn to Liem. “This is Keisha and Junie.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. It’s not the truth—or if it is, it won’t be for long.
“Nice to meetyou, handsome,” Keisha says.
Stop it!I scream silently with my face.
Liem is what I’d picture Keisha and Junie’s baby would look like—a Nigerian-Singaporean work of art. They have opposite physical features from skin tone to hair texture to body shape to height, but are both offensively beautiful, with the same loud, meddlesome personality.
“How’d you two meet?” Junie teases. I love them, but I am sotired of them.
Liem and I look at each other at the same time, our noses within familiar territory when we do. I turn away quickly. “He was in the restaurant during my breakup.”
“No way,” Junie says.
“I was. And I was getting broken up with by my girl—ex—too.”
“He got dumped right next to me.”
“We’re trauma twins,” he says.
“Breakup buddies.” I can’t fight his infectious smile, as much as I don’t want Keisha and Junie to read into it. Again, we are a little too close.How can he smell so good after a workout?
“You’re cute together,” Junie coos.
“Stop it,” I snip.
“If you don’t plan to murder her, do you plan to . . . get physical with her?”
“Keisha Reneé Joseph,” I scold her.
“I promise I will not hurt her in any way,” Liem says, either not entertaining Keisha’s joke or not picking up on it. “I’ll have her send you the address, my company’s contact info, and a copy of my ID if you want.”
“Yes, please.”
He seems happy to complete the last of Keisha’s prosecutorial due diligence.
