Page 118 of Okay, Cupid

ME: I’m sorry.

I delete that.

ME: can we talk?

I delete that one too.

ME: I’m sorry for what I said

ME: please know that I love you back, it just can’t happen

ME: I wish I could explain why

ME: I can’t love you because I’m a cupid, and that’s not allowed. It’s not you, it’s me.

ME: literally.

I delete all these messages, ready to bury my face in my pillow and scream before I see the little ellipses bubbles pop up on Huy’s side of the text chain.

But then they disappear.

ME: huy?

My finger stops just above the send button, wondering if I can actually do this, if that’s allowed. Why would he want to hear from me, especially right now? But he was looking at his texts; he must’ve seen I was typing. Or maybe he just wanted one last chance to tell me off.

I close my eyes, take a breath, and hit send.

I turn my phone over and set it on my bed facedown so I won’t focus on whether or not he’s replied. A watched phone never gets that text back. But try as I might, I can’t resist. Huy doesn’t have his read receipts on, so I have no idea if he’s seen the message. I can imagine him so easily, sitting in his bed, back against the wall as he watches the street below him, the soft glow of that lamp on his nightstand coloring the posters on the wall. Maybe he was doing homework or watching a movie or something.

I wonder what made him think of me.

The screen lights up, barely visible from where the phone lies facedown, but I can spot the glow. I’m not proud of the speed with which I grab it, my eyes glossing over the name as I read the words can we talk?

But as I register what I’m looking at, I see that it’s not a reply from Huy.

It’s from Cal.

I stare at the message, my heart picking up in my chest as I hold my breath.

I don’t want to leave San Francisco with him thinking that I never want to see him ever again. As lost as I feel right now, I’ll probably be even more lost without Cal around to talk to. Who knows, in a year, we could be laughing about that kiss, he’ll have hopefully moved on, and I …

Well …

I’ll be somewhere else, probably still hanging on to something that never could’ve been.

My answer to Cal is an easy one to type.

ME: yes.

CAL: tomorrow? at five?

My instinct is to tell him that it’s technically tomorrow as the clock hits 12:10 in the morning, but now doesn’t feel like the right time to crack jokes. And I hate that I don’t have what I used to with Cal, that a single kiss changed everything, that an admission altered how I see him.

Who knew that so much could be undone with a single kiss?

Then again, I probably should’ve learned that lesson the first time.

I ask Cal to meet at NaYa. Just to get one last mango bingsu in.