Page 11 of The Other Side of Together

“Still winning, like I do most things,” I say before taking down half our double order and picturing my promised motorcycle. Probability:100 percent.

“Still worth it?” She tilts her head and wiggles her brows this time. Digging.

“Definitely.” Unless Mei’s an option. Then, maybe not.

Audrey’s shoulders drop and she yanks the plate back toward her, taking the rest of my beloved baklava hostage. “Seriously? Not even a hot girl in your math class or one of your friends’ sisters? Are you blind, maybe?”

I lean into the table, eyeing the dessert before offering her the blank stare that drives her crazy. She doesn’t need to know that thoughts of Mei blazed a hot trail through my head all day.

She stabs the helpless lump on the plate again, watching her vicious act. “Ah. Still letting your dad’s past be your future. Even if you don’t want it.”

I jab the straw into my shake. “You finished? ‘Cause I need to feed the angry beast in my stomach and get to practice.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “I love my brother, but his whole women hatred thing is getting old. He and your mom were eighteen. They made a choice. It’s done.” She takes a deep breath, holds it before releasing it with a sigh.

I roll my eyes and scan the café’s stained-glass window but can’t help smiling. For an aunt, she’s the coolest kind available. Kinda has the crazy thing going for her and likes to stir the pot with Dad and his campaign to keep me safe from anything with boobs, but she’s cool.

“Actually, one more thing.” She holds up a finger. “Your mom wasn’t a bad person, Marcus. She was scared, and so was Ray. But you don’t have to be. About girls or leaving your dad.” She takes another bite, staring at me. Waiting.When I don’t respond she tilts her head. “You like girls, right?”

“Okay, seriously?” I throw up my hands and shake my head, then sling one arm on the table, the other across my stomach. “I look at girls. All the time. But girls didn’t get my 4.0 or my starter position on the team. Pretty sure they won’t help me keep either of them. That’s it. I just want my freakin’ motorcycle.” With Mei on the back of it. I tip my cup for the last piece of ice to chomp.

“How about a friendly wager? I know how much you like a challenge.” She leans forward. “A date. One date with a girl before our next dessert date and I buy you baklava for a year. I’ll even ship it to you at Stanford.”

I ignore the Stanford comment. Haven’t told her I accepted at USF, and not ready to have that conversation with her yet. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s in it for you?”

“Don’t want you to be the only guy on the Stanford soccer team who hasn’t kissed someone, Baby Marcus. Just doing my auntly duties.”

“Don’t give me that—you’re five years older than me. But you’re on. And I’m gonna add a little juice to this deal. Whoever gets a date first wins baklava for a year. Haven’t seen you with anyone since the last dude who looked like he’d been locked in a closet for fifteen years.”

She snatches a piece of baklava and throws it at me. It bounces off my cheek and I laugh, then throw my napkin at her and stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “We have a deal?”

“Deal.” She meets my eyes in her best tough-girl attempt, but the red glasses throw it off.

“Thought you’d see it my way.” I scoot in my chair. “And even if I do ask a girl out, the only thing I’ll be riding graduation night is a motorcycle.”

“Don’t be gross,” she calls as I smile and wave over my shoulder.

Neon signs and car headlights blare on my walk home from the train stop after practice, but Guo’s sitting outside her shop on her rickety bamboo chair, eating dried mangoes.

I yank out my earbuds and call to her. “Any good fortunes for me tonight? Maybe a note? Or three?”

“Ah! Marcus Miller!! Hello, hot stuff!”

I laugh and stop in front of her. “Where you picking up your slang these days?”

“I say what I see,” she says, flapping her hand. “And I’d like to see you closer. Come here.” She pats the chair beside her and I drop my bags and sit.

“You’ve got me nervous…”

“You afraid I’ll kiss you and make all the girls jealous?” I laugh and she takes my shoulders, turning me toward her. “Look at me.”

Old women scare me, so I do as I’m told, and she puts her hands on my cheeks, squinting. “I see,” she mutters as she pokes my cheeks and measures my forehead.

I shift in my chair. “What are you doing?”

“Reading your face. It tells me all the good stuff.” She smiles, her eyes disappearing into her cheeks. “About your love life. You’ll be so happy about what I see. But first, I’ll get some tea and an important note I think you’ll like. Then I’ll tell you. You need your strength.” She chuckles and shuffles into the shop, her sandals slapping the tile.

I scan the street, anticipating what Mei’s note will say. Hoping for some honesty about Face Eater, but also kinda not.

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