Somewhere Only We Know(22)

She glared, pointing the small broom at us. “Don’t shout at me!”

“She didn’t sleep over, she met me here,” I said, the ire sounding flimsy even to my own ears. Mrs. Liu had a way of cutting through my crap.

Lucky shifted uneasily next to me. Mrs. Liu zeroed in on her. “You. Don’t sleep over with bad boys like Jack.”

I sputtered. “Wha-what?! Bad boys…”

A snort of laughter came out of Lucky, and Mrs. Liu kept going, “Jack, you know that washer you brought up to apartment 301?”

“My back remembers,” I muttered, rubbing said back. “Next time, get the delivery guys to do it!”

She shook the broom at me. “And pay extra? What’s the point of you living here if you don’t help an old lady once in a while?”

“Um, my rent?” I said. Then I winked at her. “And I make the women happy.”

Mrs. Liu cackled. “More like, make us laugh. Anyway, the washer isn’t working. Can you look at it?”

I shook my head. Because I reminded her of her handy son living in Germany, Mrs. Liu always expected me to have the same skills as him. “I’m not going to be able to fix it!”

“At least try, you lazy!”

“Lazy?” I yelped.

Lucky was watching our back-and-forth with open delight. Mrs. Liu coughed then, while trying to get another jab back at me.

I frowned. “Did you sleep with your hair wet again? That’s how you got sick last time. I told you not to do it anymore!”

Mrs. Liu waved her hand. “I’m not sick. It’s so dusty in here. I have to clean, out of my way!” She pushed by us. “Bye, now.”

“Well, if you get sick, don’t blame me!” I called out before storming outside, cursing the day I decided to live in this apartment building.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


LUCKY


Seeing Jack flustered by a little old lady with a broom was already a highlight of my day. Their relationship, as shouty as it was, seemed pretty darn cute.

I observed him as he opened the door for me. The cool-guy act was merely that—an act. Because in his spare time, he was helping old ladies move heavy appliances. Caring about their damp hair.

I was about to follow his huffy figure out the door when I felt a firm hand grip my arm.

I turned to see Mrs. Liu looking up at me, her expression deadly serious, her eyes sharp and sweeping over my face. They lit up as soon as they confirmed what she was looking for.

My blood turned to ice. She recognized me.

The words that came out of her mouth, however, shocked the daylights out of me.

“Don’t hurt him, Lucky.” Her eyes softened, her grip still strong. “Jack’s a good boy, even if he doesn’t show off about it.”

And then she walked away, whistling and sweeping along the way.

Her words vibrated deep in me, and I had to steady myself after she disappeared around the corner.

“Fern!”

I glanced over at Jack and followed him, this guy I didn’t know but was growing curious about.

Curiouser and curiouser.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


JACK


When we stepped outside, Lucky stayed close. It surprised me how quickly she trusted me.

A tiny, tiny ember of guilt lodged itself into my chest.

Listen, you speck of guilt. I know you think I am not doing the “right” thing. But this is the price of fame. Your every move is recorded. And plus, Lucky’s going to get a fun day out of this. I can be charming, all right?

Hong Kong in the early morning felt like a secret. It was so early that we were outside before the rush of traffic, and the shops were starting to open. The streets were quiet, hushed, and cast in a soft yellow morning light.

“You good?” I asked Lucky, feeling her anxiousness in every step we took, every glance down the street. I wondered what kind of trouble she was in. Her unease made it clear to me that she had definitely snuck out last night. There was no way it was cool for her to have slept over in some random guy’s apartment. And she’d been in no state to call and update anyone. Someone had to be looking for her.

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”

And she was probably hungry. “Okay, so what are you in the mood for? There’s this great bakery that makes sourdough bread that I dream about—”

“I want fish congee,” she interrupted, her face tilted up for once, her dark brown eyes zeroed in on mine.

When I recovered from that direct stare, I raised my eyebrows. “Fish for breakfast?”

She snorted. “Wow, you’re very American.”

Some latent Korean pride in me sparked to life, making me sputter, “Okay, Miss Korea.”

“Good one.” The sarcasm surprised me, her vulnerability dashed for a second. “Don’t you ever have rice for breakfast?” she asked.

A cab rushed by, the air whooshing between us. “No, actually, I don’t. Are you going to take away my Korean card now?”

“I should,” she said, but she was grinning, her movements more natural and at ease. “Anyway, it’s a typical breakfast food here. You should know that.”

I looked over at her, surprised. “Have you spent a lot of time in Hong Kong?”