Page 7 of Between Love and War
Tricia nods, looking way too amused by my disbelief.
“That’s your great, favorite uncle, Polly?” I ask incredulously. Polly’s always raving about her Tito Wowski. According to her, he’s her second-favorite guy after her dad. And that’s a title she doesn’t give lightly.
“Yes!” Polly beams proudly, bouncing on her toes. “Isn’t he the bestest?”
I open my mouth, but words fail me. Tito Wowski–the sweet, funny, pretend-bodyguard Polly idolizes–isthatMichael Lee? The sunglasses-wearing, phone-obsessed, attitude-filled man I’d just spent the last ten minutes roasting in my head?
My brain scrambles for a response. “Uh... the bestest!” I echo, my voice an octave too high.
Polly grins like I’ve just confirmed her greatest belief. “Iknewyou’d like him!”
“Love him already, Polly Pocket,” I mutter under my breath.
Tricia sets the paper bag on my desk. “Those are my favorite pastries from our childhood in Seoul. They have it here now.I figured you deserved something sweet after... well, whatever attitude he gave you.”
I peek inside. There’s a neatly packed assortment of pastries, still warm.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “This might be the only thing that gets me through the week.”
“Don’t worry,” Tricia says with a grin. “I’ll keep him in check. He’s just... going through some things. I think. He’s not really very open.”
I want to ask whatthingsexactly, but I don’t. I have enough on my plate without psychoanalyzing Michael Lee.
Before I can respond, the sound of giggles and excited chatter drifts down the hall as my students arrive. Polly’s classmates come bursting in, bags bouncing on their backs, energy at full blast. I wave goodbye to Tricia, take a deep breath and paste on my usual smile.
“Alright, everyone!” I call out, clapping my hands. “Let’s get settled.”
I try my best to maintain my bubbliness to make it through this afternoon session. Future Kate can handle whatever demon-possessed athlete life throws at her tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kate
Haley is sprawled across my bed, her laptop balanced on her stomach, with Bon and Emily’s faces flickering on the screen. It’s time for our usual FaceTime call. Bon only lives a few houses away, but Emily is halfway across the world, and keeping her in the loop has become something of an unspoken rule.
My cat, Siopao, is curled on the rug beside my bed. I named him Siopao because I picked him up as a stray kitten who always stole my food, and I liked to joke that I saved him from becoming actual siopao meat, which, if you grew up here, you know is the punchline of many questionable street food rumors.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I say, kicking off my shoes. I rush to Siopao to scratch his ears. His white fur falls on my carpet as I scratch.
Haley waves a dismissive hand. “We forgive you. But tell us…” She leans in like she’s about to hear the town’s juiciest secret. “How was your first meeting with the celebrity of the day?”
I blink. “How do you already know that?”
Bon snorts. “Kate, this is the same town that speculated about me and Ryan before we even did—and we weren’t even here.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s not wrong. Back when Bon and Ryan were off on a medical mission in Batanes, Magnolia Heights was already taking bets on whether they’d hit it off. I didn’t participate, mostly because it felt weird to gamble on other people’s love lives. Turns out, the townies had better instincts than me. Bon and Ryan are now married.
With a sigh, I plop down on my bed and launch into my recap of Michael Lee (aka The Worst Person I’ve Met Today, Maybe Ever). I tell them about his smug attitude. His unwarranted arrogance. His indoor sunglasses.
By the time I finish, Emily tilts her head, unimpressed. “So… you didn’t do anything?”
I pause.
It’s funny how they already expect me to do nothing. That’s just the default assumption, isn’t it? Kate doesn’t pick fights. Kate lets things go.
And maybe that’s why I don’t tell them. Not about the snarky comeback. Not about the brief flicker of satisfaction when I actually pushed back. Not about the way his smirk faltered, just for a second.
Instead, I sigh. “Yep.”
