The Way You Make Me Feel(17)

The guy caught the sign in the middle of spinning it around the top of his head like a helicopter propeller. “Hey, Adrian!” he called out. He trotted over to us—his step light, his body agile and bouncy. Like a Labrador. He and Pai exchanged an elaborate fist bump involving fingers wiggling, slapping, and some weird elbow tapping. Okay, bros, we get it.

Then he glanced over at the truck, and I almost choked.

Upon closer inspection, the Labrador was very good-looking. Not my type at all—I usually fell for guys who looked a little malnourished and tortured. This guy was the picture of health and vigor: broad-shouldered with the lean yet muscular build of a runner, thick hair cut short with a few wavy locks flopping into his eyes, high cheekbones, and the nicest skin you ever saw on a male—he was practically glowing. He was like the photo you would find when looking for a stock image of “happy handsome Asian teenager.”

“Hey, you must be Clara!” he exclaimed, walking over to the truck with a giant, toothy grin. His very sharp canines seemed to glint against the sunshine. I blinked.

Smile still firmly in place, the Labrador deftly placed the sign against his hip and held his hand out. “I’m Hamlet Wong.”

I stared at his hand then looked up at him. Who in the world our age shook hands? I held up my hand in greeting instead. “Hi. Your name’s Hamlet?”

“Yeah,” he answered, unfazed.

“Why would your parents do that to you?”

My dad, who was standing behind Hamlet, shook his head. “Clara.”

I feigned innocence. “What! It’s an honest question!”

Hamlet shrugged. “Oh yeah, I understand. My parents, uh, liked the idea of naming me after a prince.” He laughed loudly, startling me.

My incredulity was genuine. “A Danish prince who no one else in the entire world is named after?”

Before he could reply, Rose popped up next to me, magically. She must have gotten here before us. “Hi, I’m Rose Carver,” she said as she held out her hand. Her smile was dazzling. Why was I not surprised when they shook hands.

Hamlet’s eyes lit up even more than the lit-upness they already were. “Oh wow! I didn’t know there was a new employee!”

My dad leaned in the doorway to the truck. “Well, these two are working the KoBra this summer as punishment.”

“Really?” Hamlet’s eyebrows practically rose into that amazing hair of his. “What’d you guys do?”

I looked at Rose. “Let her tell the story. She’s really unbiased, like Fox News.”

She did this little head flip—if her hair had been longer, it would have whipped my face. “We got into an argument and almost … well…”

“You attacked me. And we almost burned the school down,” I said flatly.

Hamlet did a little surprised hop, raising a fist up to his mouth. “No way!”

Rose made a face at me. “Don’t exaggerate.” Then her eyes flitted over to Hamlet—a split second of self-consciousness. “We didn’t burn it down! And anyway, we only fought because she pulled this prank at junior prom—”

“What kind of prank?” Hamlet’s head swiveled toward me and his eyes sparkled. “I really love prank stories.”

I frowned. It was like the time a lady pointed at my bloody-bunny T-shirt and said, “I love creative shirts.” The truly earnest made me so uncomfortable. I muttered, “I reenacted the end of Carrie.”

Confusion clouded his features. This guy’s emotions were closed-captioned on his face. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” I asked, almost just as confused.

“What’s Carrie?”

My jaw dropped. “What! You don’t know what Carrie is? Jesus, do you live under a rock?”

He shrugged. “I grew up in Beijing.”

Rose shoved me, getting closer to him. “Wow! When did you move here? Your English is flawless.”

I tsked. “That’s so racist.”

She bit her lip, mortified. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean…”

Hamlet laughed and held up his hands. Two nice, strong-looking hands, with elegant fingers. “No, no, it’s fine! I moved here in sixth grade. I’ve had time to get pretty good.”

Rose tilted her head and smiled. “Cool! I’d love to talk to you about that experience one day!”

For Pete’s sake.

“Oh, for sure! But I actually have to run—starting my second shift,” he said regretfully, picking up his sign. “It was great meeting you guys. I’m sure I’ll see you around this summer then?” Was it my imagination or did he hold my gaze a bit longer than necessary?

He ran off, leaving us with a clear view of my dad. Pai was grinning. “Oh, you girls.”

“What!” Rose blurted, spending an inordinate amount of time tucking her hair into her cap. She glanced at me. “Do you think he was offended when I made that comment about his English?”

But I wasn’t paying attention. Instead I watched Hamlet run toward a coffee kiosk under a big shady tree. He whipped off his shirt, tugging it from the back of his collar. My mouth went dry. He was bare chested and glorious for a full two seconds before pulling on a white polo shirt, a navy apron, and a matching cap. Then he served someone coffee.