Page 96 of Okay, Cupid

“I need them open,” I tell him.

“Right.” He almost sounds nervous.

I get it. I have to lean forward, directing him to look up so I can ever so gently run the pen along the fine line of his eye to get that stark black contrast that highlights the colors I’ve added. “Stay very still,” I remind him.

“I know.”

“And don’t talk.”

He zips his lips, and I get too close for comfort. Close enough to count the long eyelashes that flutter with every careful breath he takes, close enough to see the thin hairs that connect his two brows, close enough that I can see the soft hazel in his brown eyes that almost casts them in a golden shade.

Close enough to know how beautiful he is.

Who am I kidding? I could know that from a mile away. He could be a dot on the horizon, inching farther and farther away from me, and I would forever know how beautiful Huy Trinh is, and how unfair it is that I won’t know him a week from now.

The mascara comes next, my touch soft and careful, and then the rose blush that dusts his cheeks like a soft cloud, covering the bridge of his nose from one side to the other. It’s a subtle note, but it adds necessary color.

Huy has to pull away, wiggling his nose, his eyes going crossed for a moment.

“What? Too much?”

“No, it just tickled.” He grins. “Thought I had to sneeze.”

“Well, get back here. I want to add a bit of highlighter.” I dust my brush onto the highlighter palette, sprinkling a touch on his nose and cheeks.

Huy wiggles his nose a bit. “That felt weird.”

And I’m done.

I stare at him. The way the black line traces his eyes, and the soft glitter in the eye shadow makes his eyes glow in the light. The blush warming his cheeks and the pink of his lips that I can’t take my eyes off.

I know what that gloss tastes like, and I crave the sugary flavor.

“How do I look?” Huy asks me, blinking softly.

I have to look away, even though I desperately don’t want to. Like he might vanish if I turn my head. I search for my mirror and hand it to him, letting him take in my work.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He keeps staring at his own face. “I love it.”

“Here.” I reach back into the bag, handing him the pack of makeup wipes. “Use these tonight. Don’t just use them, though. Actually wash your face.”

“Got it.” Huy takes the pack. “I’ll give them back to you at school.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you okay?” Huy asks me, his head cocked to the side.

“Yeah,” I whisper slowly. “Come on.” My voice is drier than I realize, like I’ve been choking on something. “We should get going.”

The street has completely transformed since the last time I was here. And now, instead of the rows of tents and trailers, there’s one single white tent that covers an entire block and some of the sidewalk. Leading up to it, there are tables for those brave enough to sit outside in the cold, though I guess the large grills filled absolutely full of food are enough to keep them warm, along with some additional food trucks that seem to prepare all kinds of Vietnamese dishes from savory to sweet.

Despite the size of the tent, there are so many people crammed inside that it’s hard to maneuver at first, and it only seems to get worse the closer you get to the middle, where all the tables are set up for people to eat. Along the perimeter sit the people preparing food, the warm smells wafting their way into my nose and making my stomach gurgle. And on the far side of the tent, surrounded by speakers and screens, stands an older man saying something excitedly in Vietnamese as most of the crowd laughs along with him.

“Come on, I think Neve and Alice are here already.” Huy nudges me forward, taking my hand so we won’t lose each other in the crowd, but the joke’s on him, because the feeling of his skin against mine only makes me want to totally vanish.

We have to move toward the back of the tent—or is it the front? Alice and Neve are there, sitting next to each other while Alice feeds Neve pieces of fried squid.