Page 21 of The First Kind of Love
She winks at me. “Iwantedto.”
Fuck, this girl is everything. She makes me feelalive. She makes me feel like I’m experiencing the first simple joys of life all over again—sun rays through a car window on a sleepy afternoon, the first breath of cold air after a long, hot shower, the sound of rain playing percussion on a fogged-up window.
The presentation is stunning. I don’t recognize these types of noodles, but they’re thin and white, soaking in a semi-opaque broth that’s topped with herbs, slabs of beef, bean sprouts, and green onions. I start with a sizable spoonful, my eyes widening as I taste the spiciness of the ginger. The freshness of the cilantro and the saltiness from the broth pair into a delectable amalgamation, and the garlic sauce isn’t so overwhelming that it blots out the other flavors. Everything is perfectly balanced, and my table manners momentarily slip to the back burner.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” I mumble around my food.
Shiloh begins to pick daintily at her own serving. “I’m glad you enjoy it. Pho is a delicacy in Vietnam. My mom always used to cook it for me when I was a kid, but she made it differently than how it’s commonly prepared. She swears by the secret ingredient.”
This time, I think before I speak, making sure to swallow my food first. “Are you and your mom close?”
“She’s my best friend. She means everything to me. I wouldn’t be here without her.”
The corners of my mouth hike into a beaming smile, andI’m not sure how observant she is (or how good the lighting is), but I wouldn’t be surprised if I was blushing like a lovesick idiot right now. “That’s really great to hear.”
Shiloh chews on a strip of beef. “What about you? Are you close with your family?”
That’s…a tough question. I’d rather not dampen the mood, but my father isn’t a good, well,father. He’s a good man and a good husband, but he was never cut out to look after a child.
“I’m, uh, not as close with my dad as I wish I was. He always prioritized his work over his family. He’s the CEO of a big tech firm in Silicon Valley. He never came to any of my hockey games because he always had some kind of work event conveniently scheduled during them. And he missed so many of my birthdays that my mother just advised me not to expect him,” I divulge, not wanting to elaborate so the night doesn’t turn into an unsolicited therapy session. I already regret bringing it up, but I know Shiloh would’ve been hurt if I didn’t tell her.
I don’t resent my father. I’ve concluded that I don’t have the energy in my heart to hate him. He doesn’t deserve to occupy my thoughts. He made his bed, and my life is better without him in it.
“I’m so sorry, Fulton. No kid should have to grow up with an absentee father. You deserved better. And he’s missing out on the wonderful person you turned out to be.”
As depressing—and so not first-date worthy—of a topic as this is, I love how much Shiloh cares. I never knew someone could have such a big heart, and it’s evident through her interactions with complete strangers that she’s just an inherently good person.
Something my dad will never be.
“It’s alright. It’s in the past now. All that matters is that you’re here with me.”
“I’ll always be here for you,” she promises. “Regardless of if you need me or not.”
My heart believes you, so why doesn’t my head?
Thanks to my father, I’ve learned to always assume the worst about people. But Shiloh has single-handedly rewritten everything I thought I knew, and that terrifies me. How is it possible that one girl has the power to change my entire outlook on life? I need to switch the subject. I’m not ready for this kind of wake-up call yet.
“On the bright side, I visit my mom and younger sister often. They live a few hours away, but we talk daily. My mom and I have always been close. She’s my biggest supporter. But she always was, even when I was little. Even when I had to go to speech therapy because I was too shy to speak in class and my teacher was convinced I was mute. Even when I was horrible at minor league hockey but still wanted to pursue a career in it one day. I could barely hold my hockey stick because it was so big in comparison to me.”
She makes anawwsound, and those brown beauties of hers practically hit me like a car speeding through a red light. “I bet you were the cutest kid,” she comments nonchalantly, swirling her fork around in her noodles.
I choke for the second time this sitting, hesitant to ameliorate the flustered state of my body with water in case it, in fact, makes things worse.
“Shit! Sorry!”
She scrambles to hand me a napkin, all while a rictus grin refuses to unlatch from my face.
I’m not sure if God is watching over me or I’m somehow outsmarting death, but I manage to get everything under control without hucking a piece of food out of my mouth and ruining the evening.
I slam down a good half of my water, gasping for air when I resurface. “Don’t apologize.”
“Oh, God. I can’t believe I made you choke! I didn’t mean—well, Ididmean it—but I meant it as a compliment. Like, you’reobviously still cute. You’re handsome-cute. Is that a thing? Should I just say handsome? Is cute too cringey? It doesn’t even sound like a word anymore,” she rambles, eyes downturned.
“You think I’m cute?” I blurt out, and the possibility of her statement even harboring thetiniestseedling of truth hot-wires all my nerves.
Shiloh’s the one blushing this time, nodding her head, the light waves of her hair bouncing softly against her shoulders. “It wasn’t obvious?”
Was it? Did I miss the signs? I suspected there might’ve been attraction between us, but to hear her reassure me that it wasn’t just all in my head…it’s the best feeling in the entire world. Better than scoring the first goal of the season. Better than a barn burner that puts your team on the map for playoffs. Better than winning an overrated metal cup and bragging rights for all eternity.
