She’d definitely got Nathalie in the breakup, if you could even call it a breakup. It wasn’t like she and Ket Siong had ever actually dated.
She could see why Nathalie was concerned, to be fair. Renee’s record with Ket Siong was not such as to fill her friend with confidence that she wouldn’t get overinvested.
“You become more of a terrible Asian auntie by the day,” said Renee, giving up. “You’ll have to buy your own tickets. Ket Siong’s already booked for the ten-thirty entry.”
Nathalie might fulminate all she liked, but she could be trusted to be civil to Ket Siong in person. And maybe she was right. Having her there would take the meetup further away from any possible date vibes—establish it on the right footing, as a platonic hangout between people who liked each other but had no plans to sleep with each other (again).
“Thank you,” said Nathalie placidly. “I will.”
Then
Ket Siong tried to be Renee’s friend and nothing more. He might have succeeded, if not for Renee’s ex.
It was a pity Ket Siong wasn’t there when Andrew Yeoh came to her flat. Fortunately, a neighbour heard the shouting and knocked on the door. Renee got to the door first and managed to flee, leaving the neighbour to deal with Andrew.
Ket Siong would have liked to deal with Andrew. It might have worked off some of the inhuman energy that had bedevilled him ever since he’d realised he was in love. He had been jittery and on edge since then, feeling simultaneously as though he could write a dozen symphonies and as though he’d explode unless he did something drastic, like throw himself in front of a speeding train for Renee. Or kiss her.
His teachers had noticed: “It’ll be good for your music,” said his favourite, a chain-smoking Lithuanian who loved Rachmaninoff.
So had Nathalie.
“Why don’t you ask her out?” she said.
Ket Siong froze. “Who?”
Nathalie looked patient, though she might as well have rolled her eyes—her expression had much the same effect. “Renee, obviously. You like her, don’t you?”
They were perched by the window of a Pret, where Renee met with Nathalie every morning for a companionable coffee. Ket Siong had started joining them at Renee’s invitation, though he didn’t order anything himself. He seemed to be the only one of the three who was subject to a student’s usual budget constraints.
He stared out at the street, hoping his face wasn’t doing anything unhelpful.
The thing was to act natural.
“Of course,” he said. “We’re friends.”
This time Nathalie actually rolled her eyes. “You’re both hopeless. Look, no matter what, Renee’s never going to make the first move. She always expects people to screw her over, because of her family. It would be nice for her to have a boyfriend who treated her like a person, instead of a trophy. More importantly,” said Nathalie, “it would be nice for me, her best friend.”
“She said I was her best friend,” said Ket Siong, without thinking. It took him a moment to realise how that might sound. “I mean…”
But Nathalie only laughed. “You’renot her best friend. You’re something else. Think about it, all right? You might be surprised.”
Ket Siong said, “Nathalie. Are you saying…”
It was astonishingly difficult to put the question into words. He tried again. “Do you mean—has Renee said—”
Nathalie was getting up, coffee in hand.
“I’ve said as much as I can,” she said, adding mysteriously, “Girl code. The rest is up to you.”
He was thinking about this conversation with Nathalie while trying to study in his room when the intercom buzzed. He started guiltily. It could only be Renee. She was the main person who visited him at halls.
Renee was crying. She’d walked all the way in her socks.
“I didn’t have time to put my shoes on,” she said. Despite the tears trickling down her face, she was composed, flinty as Ket Siong had never seen her. “Andrew threw my phone out of the window. He said there was no point in me having it, since I never answer my messages. Wait…” Renee’s composure wavered. “Where are you going?”
Ket Siong was putting on his coat. He looked up, puzzled Renee had to ask. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Renee. “My neighbour called the cops before she even knocked. Andrew’s probably in the back of a police car getting screamed at by his father right now, if they even let him make the call.”
