It’s late into the afternoon, dipping into the evening when we arrive home from the markets. We’d explored the area a little more, with my Dad finding a nice ornament to add to our backyard garden at an antique store.
Ria and I were able to purchase two new books for ourselves from a second-hand bookstore - a copy of Julia Quinn’sRomancing Mister Bridgertonand Jane Austen’sPersuasionfor me, and Jane Austen’sEmmaand Tahereh Mafi’sShatter Mefor Ria.
I excitedly shelve them as soon as I get home, noting that I’ve got to buy a new bookshelf. It’s beginning to overflow with my combined collection of books, kpop albums and miscellaneous pop culture figurines.
Why do I like so much stuff,I think to myself, with a sigh.
After dinner, my family and I watch a rerun ofTerminatoron TV, and as always, I tear up as Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese’s doomed love unfolds on screen.
It’s only when I’m settled into bed, curled under the covers withRomancing Mister Bridgertonopen on my lap, that my phone buzzes.
Something in me deflates.
Am I expecting too much, to hope that maybe he’d tell me a little more about his day? With me, I always want all the details, no matter how miniscule it is.
The little details, to me, are never little.
Even if he had spent the day on the couch, bingeing through episodes of his latest TV obsession or catching up on soccer, I’d love to know about it. I sink into my bed, moving my book to my bedside.
I press send, and wait patiently for him to reply. After twenty minutes, he doesn’t. I sigh, disappointed.
I was expecting too much, wasn’t I? Surely I was. I’m still a stranger to Rafayel, and he is to me, after all. I’m about to put my phone away, when my phone buzzes again. Excited, I check it, but this time, it’s from Marlon.
My lips tug involuntarily. Pulling the covers off of me, I pull out the two books I’d bought today and snap a photo. I don’t show him the keychain - not yet.
He reacts with a photo of Usagi from Sailor Moon, with her eyes jutting out with hearts. I giggle a little to myself, before tidying the books, and settling back under the covers. I ask him how the date with Christine went today,
My stomach turns. I glimpse my reflection through the phone glass, and realise I’m smiling.
I’m giddy at the thought of going out tomorrow, and I convince myself it has everything to do with eating more Filipino sweets, and nothing at all to do with the company. Just before I close my eyes to sleep, I finally get a response from Rafayel.
Twenty One
“So, how was your date yesterday?”
Marlon meets my eyes through the car visor. He’d picked me up at 11am on the dot, just after my family had gotten home from Church.
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Sure it wasn’t.”
“I already told you Garcia, it really was not a date.”
I resist the urge to scoff but hold it in for Marlon’s dignity.
“Okay so how was your nice, romantically long catch up then?” I tease, and Marlon just pokes my side. I ignore the fireworks it sets off.
“Christine and I’s veryfriendlycatch-up was nice, just like the one before,” he says, “It was just, you know, more updates on what’s been happening since we, well…”
He gestures with his free-hand in ayou knowmotion.
“But not about our -”
“No, obviously not. It’s one of the rules, remember? No one can know.”
He turns to grin at me and I just blink at him.
“What about your wallpaper,” I point out.
