By the time he’s in the car and we’re heading down the mountain, I want to turn to him and tell him to shove his thick muscles back into his skin because they're distracting me.
Even though I am trying to look out the window, I can’t help myself from peering over at him and boom, there they are. All structured beneath his shirt and in my face. I mean if you’re going to have muscles, might as well show them off, you know?
Take your shirt off, Dean. Let me see them for scientific purposes.
“Nova.” One word and my eyes pop out of my sockets. Don’t tell me he saw me.
It’s not like you’re being discreet. You’re literally salivating over him.
I do the mature thing by huffing and looking away.
There’s an air of awkwardness in the car.
Dean’s stiffness, Hina’s silence, and my shuffling.
“So,” Hina begins. “Where are you from, Dean?”
“Canada.” One word, no elaboration. Terrible people skills. That should be enough of a reason to get him off the show, right?
“Cool, cool. But I meant your ethnicity.” I can practically hear Hina roll her eyes.
“Russia and Tajikistan.”
Hina perches forward. Her elbows resting in the crook of both our seats. “You speak Russian?”
Dean’s knuckles turn white. “Persian.”
“Greatconversation,” she sarcastically adds. Then she pokes my shoulder. “What about you?”
“Technically I’m from a small place called Cornwall, which is also in Canada. Fun coincidence, right?” My voice pitches with fake enthusiasm and is met with complete silence from Dean. Someone get his pretty face out of my point of view because Iwilldouse him in gasoline.
Smacking my lips, “But ethnically, I’m from the Philippines. My sisters grew up there until I was born and then we moved to Canada.”
“If you’re from the Philippines, you’re probably good at karaoke, right?”
Of course that’s what she thinks. The typical stereotype.
Which might be true for most families that have their extended relatives living with or near them. But for my family, it’s a no. Once, I tried to get my sisters to do karaoke with me in the living room andMashut it down whenTataywas released from prison.
A lot of our lifestyle changed when he came back.
Especially mine. I started living with a stranger at the age of ten and called him dad.
“I wish,” I joke. “But the whole singing thing isn’t my thing.”
It is. I love singing. I do it all the time.
Every morning before I open the shop, I visit the flower market and the employees there hate to see me. Too much talking, not enough shopping.
“Do you like it?”
My body jolts like his question presses the button of an electric chair.
I stare at the side of his face, at how the lump in his jaw stands out. How he grits his teeth and turns his eyes to get a glimpse, but quickly looks away when he notices I’m staring.
It’s a harmless question, nothing at all.
But it’s the fact that he asked me.
