Page 19 of The Odds of Happily Ever After
“I was still debating if I should,” she said, surprising me with her honesty. “Anyway, I’m home already.”
“I was worried about you,” I admitted, surprising myself this time.
She let out a short laugh. “It was just a bus ride from the grocery to my apartment. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I can send you multiple news articles that prove therearethings to worry about.”
“You don’t have to. My dad sends me stuff like that every other week,” she said, and I could picture her rolling her eyes. “Did you ever do that to Ate?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
Something about her tone, the way it sounded sad and resigned, prompted me to add, “I reminded her to be careful, but you know your sister.”
“She always was the independent one,” Luna murmured. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but you really don’t have to check on me. I chat with Ate almost every day, and she has Kriz’s number in case she can’t reach me.”
Metal clanged and she let out a curse.
“What happened?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“Just dropped a pot lid. So?—”
“You’re cooking?”
“Yeah.”
“At almost one in the morning?”
“Why not?”
Yes, why not? I was guilty of snacking after midnight, too, even past my undergraduate years. Why wouldn’t Luna be doing the same?
“Right. Well, enjoy. Don’t forget to turn off your stove.” I gritted my teeth at the inanity of that statement. This was exactly why social conversations and I didn’t get along.
“I’ve been cooking since I was seven, Professor,” Luna said drily. “I know to turn off the stove.”
“Of course you do.”
“I didn’t know you were paranoid about safety.”
Neither did I—because I normally wasn’t. My neck grew warm as I tried to think about what to say next, but everything felt too long-winded. So, I chose the simplest response. “Glad you made it home. Good night.”
There was a beat of silence, like Luna was trying to figure out how we went from safety to goodbye. Finally, she said, “Night, Gabe.”
A second later, she clicked off, and my living room somehow seemed quieter than usual.
She was fine. My conscience could rest easy knowing I hadn’t left her to get in trouble.
Turning on some music, I walked over to the kitchen. I had finished a load in the dishwasher earlier, so I washed my glass by hand. Going through familiar motions right after my strained encounter with Luna reminded me of the night I helped her do the dishes at Tala’s apartment.
It had been two months after Luna moved here. Tala invited me over so I could get to know her sister and try what she called “real Filipino food.” Little did she know, the last time Luna and I had any contact was when I ignored her on the first day of class.
Everything went smoothly until Tala excused herself to go to the bathroom after dinner. As soon as the door closed, Luna busied herself at the sink—an obvious move to avoid talking tome. I knew because I would have done the same if she hadn’t beat me to it.
“You didn’t tell her,” I said as I walked toward her.
Luna startled, splashing water on her shirt. She scowled at me. “Tell her what?”
