“I took a liking to pottery and wanted to try my hand at it. In Eufaula, there was a small art studio where you can use the kiln for free if you’re enrolled in an art class with any local universities, online or no.”
My nod was more honest this time. That explanation made sense, as did the way my gaze ping-ponged between his lips as he spoke and his hands as he gracefully gesticulated, unable to stay on one for long for fear of missing out on what was happening with the other.
The waiter brought our waters then, and conversation paused as they were placed on the small square napkins in front of each of us before he asked if we were ready to order. I hadn’t even opened the menu, but when everyone else nodded, I decided to just order my usual. One of the smaller casinos on the Coast had a food court with an amazing Vietnamese fusion stall that was open late on the weekends. Bree and I had patronized them hundreds of times over the years, only going whenever we’d both finished a late shift and could take the ten-minute walk together.
But then one day a couple of years ago, without warning, a new place had taken over the stall.
Unexpected, nostalgic mourning crept up on me as I glanced at Bree beside me, wondering if she was thinking of it, too, but ever the girl scout, she was busy gathering our menus to give back to the waiter. I dropped my gaze back to my lap, not keen to stare at her until she got the weird as fuck silent memo to be sad with me.
A moment later, she poked my leg. “This place reminds me of Stix.”
“Same,” I agreed around a relieved laugh. “But they probably won’t give us free extra sauces here.”
She sighed. “Probably not.”
We bumped shoulders in solidarity, and I took a deep breath as I mentally pep talked myself to get it together.
I’d almost started listening to myself by the time the waiter returned with a bowl of hot spring rolls, the steam wafting up in the middle of the table. Liem lifted a tiny wallet into the air and, like a magician, produced two sets of travel chopsticks from it, handing one to his brother.
I was utterly fascinated as Liem deftly connected the ends of his chopsticks, the pronounced veins on the tops of his hands flexing as he worked. Once the show was over, he set them on the napkin beside him and reached for his glass of water. Then, as the constellation tattoos on his left forearm winked at me as he brought it to his lips, it dawned on me that the show was, in fact, not over.
The assembling of chopsticks had only been the prelude.
Liem lifted a spring roll from the basket in front of us, dipped it into the peanut sauce, and took a hearty bite.
His eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy as he licked a droplet of sauce from his lips.
My sauce.
A boot grazed up the length of my shin, and I jolted in my seat, my gaze snapping from Liem’s lips to his eyes as he asked, “How many more miles do you have until you reach Mordor?”
His eyes sparkled knowingly, mischievous and a bit wild, as he finished off the spring roll and looked at me expectantly, licking the tip of his finger.
His boot skimmed back down my shin.
Goose bumps erupted, and I clenched the seat to try to ward off an obvious shiver.
While I may have meticulously practiced and perfected the art of flirting while working at the casino over the years, Liem seemed born to it.
I was beginning to suspect I’d met my match.
Bree cleared her throat and elbowed me in the least subtle way possible. “Answer the question instead of just drooling, ya weirdo.”
I leveled her with a look even as I unsubtly closed my gaping mouth, but she just stuffed a spring roll into her own mouth and raised her eyebrows at me.
“Lots,” I answered as I moved my gaze back to Liem across the table and, like an absolute asshat, chuckled at the not-quite-a-joke I’d made. “We, uhh.” I looked around, desperately searching for my cool. “We probably won’t make it there until June.”
“We?” Bree asked, brushing crumbs off her shirt as she hid a shitty little grin.
I debated making a run for it. I really did. Instead, I smiled, realizing I hadn’t told her this. “Dad and I started running in the mornings. He signed us up for a virtual race to Mordor.”
Bree’s answering smile was huge, the sight making mine grow even bigger as she said, “I love that you two are getting along. How far is it from Bay Springs to Mordor?”
“About three hundred miles.”
Liem whistled, drawing my attention back to him as he said, “That’s quite a journey.”
I sat straighter, with no idea how talking about virtualLord of the Ringsmarathons had boosted my confidence, but it was what it was. My cool had abandoned me entirely.
