Page 118 of The Friend Zone Experiment

“Back to the flat,” said Renee. “I took leave today.”For my birthday,she didn’t need to say.

She half thought Dad might acknowledge it was her birthday. But he just said, “Hmph,” resettled his glasses on his nose, and bent his head studiously over his iPad.

She felt it counted as a win, all the same. Descending the stairs, Renee decided she was glad she’d come.

When she got back to her building, it was to the somewhat surprising scene of Dragan hanging out with Ket Siong on the sofas in the foyer, chatting.

Ket Siong saw her first. He was surrounded by tote bags bulging with groceries. A leek stuck out of one of them. He said something to Dragan, who got up, clapping him on the shoulder. Renee got a nod and an approving smile as Dragan went back to his post.

It was a little weird getting more emotional validation from the concierge than her own father. Dad would say it was easy to praise other people’s children.

Ket Siong stood up at her approach. Renee could see that one of the tote bags had a bouquet of flowers in it.

“This is a nice surprise,” she said.

Ket Siong ducked his head. “You said you weren’t seeing your family for your birthday anymore. I thought I could make you dinner. If you want.”

Renee put her head on one side. “What are you going to do with all of that if I say no?”

Ket Siong considered his shopping, strewn around him. He appeared to have bought enough to cater for a football team. “My family could have it tomorrow. My brother’s taking my mother out for dinner tonight.”

“Come on,” said Renee. She reached out for the bags, but Ket Siong intervened before she could pick any of them up.

“I can manage,” he said, so Renee left him to it.

Ket Siong was unenthusiastic when Renee offered to help with the cooking, but he did allow her to snap the roots off the bean sprouts.

“That’s about my level,” said Renee. She took a picture of their shining white stems, heaped in a metal bowl on her marble table. It was the kind of thing her Instagram followers would go wild for, with its nostalgic associations with Chinese grandmas at work.

The flowers he’d got her were clearly visible in the background. A bunch of gerberas from Tesco, more cheerful than romantic, costing all of five pounds. She touched a bright pink petal and smiled.

That would pique interest, too. Let Instagram speculate. She’d do a soft launch of the new man in time.

Ket Siong was moving around her kitchen as though he’d lived there for years, taking out pots and pans and cooking utensils. Renee moved to the kitchen island so she could watch him better, bringing the bean sprouts with her.

“I didn’t even know I had a colander,” she said. “What are those? Cooking chopsticks? Those must be from Auntie Mindy’s time. How did you know where to find all this stuff?”

Ket Siong went pink. “I had a look the last time I was here. I used to wish I could cook for you, when we were students. Like Derek Lim.”

Renee laughed. “Derek said it was his secret weapon.”

“His food was OK,” said Ket Siong repressively.

“Ket Siong,” said Renee, charmed, “were you jealous of Derek?”

Ket Siong didn’t dignify that with an answer. He filled the kettle at the tap, put it on to boil, and said:

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. I sent in a video to that competition you told me about. I got into the next round. Auditions are in March.”

Renee’s eyes widened. “Ket Siong, that’s fantastic!”

That made him bashful. He drew his head in a little, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. “We’ll see what happens.”

“This is a double celebration, then,” said Renee. “We should get cake!” She abandoned the bean sprouts, picking up her phone. “There are a couple of Japanese patisseries nearby. I wonder if they deliver… Do you like crepe cakes?”

“I got a cake,” said Ket Siong, nodding at the bags he hadn’t unpacked yet. “Nothing special, though. Pandan chiffon cake. I picked it up in Chinatown.”

“OK, that is myfavouritekind of cake. Forget Japanese patisserie.” Renee put down her phone. “How do you know all the things I like?”

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