Page 9 of The Other Side of Together

“All about perspective, Mei.” He stops, raising his eyebrows. “Wait—can I call you Mei?”

“Umm…sure?”

“I mean, you know, since we’re the only people who happen to talk with our eyes, we should be on a nickname basis.” He smiles and when he shoves his fingers through his messy hair, nicknames for him flood my mind. All of them will stay safely inside my head.

Heat prickles my cheeks and I meet his eyes across the landing. Silence ripples between us before Marcus straightens and clears his throat. “So, back to that whole bribe thing and why Guo would care if I talk to you and—”

Mama calls from inside and I tense, my eyes darting to my window then back to him. “You have to go,” I whisper, dive-crawling back into my room. I set Buddha on the windowsill and reach to pull the window down but Marcus ducks through the opening, his face inches from mine.

“When can I see you again? Besides at the restaurant.”

He has a few, faint freckles on the bridge of his nose. His dark eyebrows are perfectly arched over blue, blue eyes, the left brow interrupted by a tiny scar slashed through its middle. I grip the window for dear life. “Notes are probably best.” I’m not giving them up yet. His notes exploded into twenty-four bright spots in the last two weeks.

“Then I’m taking Buddha with me.” He snatches the statue, still looking at me, still washing away the darknesswith waves of sky blue. “He’ll tell me everything you won’t.”

“He doesn’t talk to strangers,” I whisper.

“Please.” Marcus rolls his eyes. “Buddha speaks to all peace-loving individuals. Plus, we’re neighbors. If you lean over your fire escape far enough…” He throws his thumb in the direction of his building. “You can almost see my window. So…not strangers.”

Mama calls again and I grip the window like it will help me win the tug of war between Marcus and her. “I have to go,” I rush, pulling the window down a little.

“Wait!” He grabs it. “Buddha wants to tell me something.” He holds him to his ear and pretends to listen. His eyes slide to my lips then he shakes his head and talks to Buddha again. “Sorry, man, what’d you say? I was distracted.” He glances at me and grins, then nods, Buddha still at his ear. “Yeah, I totally agree. I don’t get it either, and I’ll tell her, but you’re crazy for thinking she’ll listen to me.” He rolls his eyes and drops Buddha in his jacket pocket, sighing loudly. “So…he says you should stop making out with Face Eater if he’s not your boyfriend. And if he is your boyfriend, you should break up with him.”

I narrow my eyes and he holds up his hands. “Just the messenger.” Grabbing the ladder handles, he backs down it, disappearing into the alley.

I close my eyes. My heart’s still beating. I’m awake. That really happened.Marcus Miller was here and wants to see me again. Even after the whole Nick thing.

A smile stretches my face to new limits, but I press my lips together and take a deep breath through my nose, shaking off feelings I shouldn’t have, especially about a moment that should never have happened and can never happen again. Unless I ask Su Ling to permanently switch shifts.

My phone buzzes from the pillows again and Nick shoves back into my thoughts and spreads guilt all over my head.No. Never mind. I’ll make sure I’m in the kitchen every Tuesday night from now on. It’s the only way I’ll be able to resist Marcus Miller and his smile.

My thoughts run wild in the empty dining room, swinging from pendant lights and jumping from table to table like Marcus-faced monkeys that have been caged since seeing him last night. I smile at the table as pots clang in the kitchen where the staff are prepping for breakfast.

I spray cleaner on tables and chairs, then scrub, hoping all thoughts of Marcus and last night’s fire escape moment will slip out my fingers and leave me in peace. I’d barely slept because when I closed my eyes, Marcus’s smile had flashed in my head and made it glow.

My phone buzzes and I set my cleaning rag in the bucket and pull it from my pocket.

Everything okay? Why aren’t you answering?

The smell of Drunk Nick seeps from my memory but I spray the table and scrub, like I can erase last night from my mind. Truthfully, there’s no room for bad memories with so much Marcus in my head. That's how I want to keep it, even if I’m torturing myself because no matter what he says, he can’t be interested in someone like me. We’re too different. And then there’s Nick. Who’s opened every door I’ve walked through since coming to America. In a few weeks, we’ll be in L.A. meeting celebrity chefs, and if I’m lucky, I’ll intern with one of them, all thanks to him. I want the future he’s helping me create. Flirting with another guy could ruin everything.

Especially if that guy has the gravitational pull of Marcus Miller.

I pull the fortune he gave me during my shift last night from my pocket and stare at the phone number. All I have to do is dial and…Marcus. I shouldn’t be thrilled Su Ling called insick, but it was a Tuesday, and instead of hearing Detective Miller’s booming laughter above clanging pots and hissing grills in the kitchen, I was in the same room. Thank you, Su Ling.

The door chimes and I glance up, blinded by the rising sun pouring in with a man in a suit. My eyes adjust to Detective Miller striding across the empty dining room, his smile reaching me before he does. It’s an incredibly familiar smile, and I swallow, afraid he knows I was thinking about his son and is here to arrest me for thoughts I shouldn’t have.

“Hi, Mei Li.” He sticks out his hand, and I give him a shaky smile and wipe my hand on my apron before shaking his, then focus on the glossy black chair I’m scooting under the table. What if my eyes say something to him they shouldn’t?

“Hello, Detective Miller.”

“How can you work with those delicious smells? I’d be 400 pounds if I worked here. Noodles for every meal including breakfast.” He pats his flat stomach, his hand resting over his pink tie.

I laugh, spraying the table and wiping it, glancing at him as I work. “Breakfast doesn’t start for another half hour, but Wong will make an exception for you, I’m sure.”

He smiles. “Tempting, but I need my brain to function today, and noodles won’t help. I’d actually love to talk with you, if you have a minute.” His Southern accent rolls toward me and my throat goes dry. “Just a few questions. I’ll make sure you make your bus, promise. Mind if we sit?”

“Um…okay.” I set down the bottle and ease into the chair across from him, folding my hands in my lap and squeezing my fingers together because this is Marcus’s dad. He’s a detective. He detects lies for a living. He will detect mine.

---