Page 16 of Undeniably Perfect

Tabitha nods as she swallows water. “Yes. I’m actually working with the team right now on some charity work.”

“Kent mentioned that. You must be very good at your job.”

Tabitha blushes. I am beginning to like the pink tinge on her face when she’s embarrassed. She is adorable. Somehow, my gut tells me that beneath her eccentric exterior she was just the shy girl next door.

“I have a special appetizer for you,” Mr. Wu says as he sets down a plate of some type of fried something.

“Thanks, Mr. Wu,” we all say in unison.

Tabitha

Kent takes a tiny bite before lifting his fork for his mom to finish. He looks at me sheepishly. “Mr. Wu spoils us but I’m on a pretty strict diet right now. I need to keep my body in high performance for a few more weeks.”

“Why?” The question leaves my lips before I can process his statement.

Kent and his mom gape at me. “Kent’s team is doing very well, hon. I think he’s preparing to be in playoffs.”

“Playoffs?” I ask. I know I should understand this. I mean, I get that it means he’s competing to win something, but I literally know nothing about baseball. My mind searches for something, anything so I don’t look like an idiot.

“So, you’re going to the Super Bowl?” I ask.

Mrs. Moore tries to hide her giggle. But Kent can’t contain himself. He pounds his fist on the table before taking a few deep breaths.

“It’s the World Series. The Super Bowl is the championship game for football.”

“Oh,” I say. I can feel the heat creeping up my skin, stupid pale skin. Damn it! I suck at sports terminology. I should have known that one though. He must think I’m an idiot.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Tabby. Kent doesn’t even know who Ansel Adams is.”

I look to Kent, surprised.

Kent glares at his mom. “I do, too.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. He grumbles under his breath. “Fine, I don’t, OK?”

I giggle and pull up an Ansel Adams photo on my phone.

“Oh, that guy. Yeah, I know who that is, or I’ve seen his work anyways.”

“You’d get along great with our Kylie. How old are you?” Mrs. Moore asks. Something about her question makes me laugh. It’s like a nurse or teacher asking a little kid their age. I almost want to answer that I am twenty-four and a half.

“Twenty-four,” I answer.

“Are you from the area?”

I nod. “I grew up in Rockville.”

“Oh, that’s not far from us. Are your parents still there?” Her question is so innocent and normal, yet she has no idea it opens the Pandora’s box of my shitty childhood. I give her my canned response. The one I use for everyone.

“My grandparents raised my brother and me. And yes, they still live there.”

“Oh,” she answers, searching my eyes. She quickly moves away from the topic of my parents. Smart lady. “Is your brother still in the area?”

“Yep. Brixton lives in Bethesda, but he travels a lot for work. He’s actually on a work trip right now. He’s a government contractor.”

“Kent’s dad works for the government,” she says, and I smile at the way she refers to her husband. I can tell just from the way she says that one sentence that she loves her husband.

“What does he do?” I ask, trying to take the questioning off of me.

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