The Way You Make Me Feel(41)

“Oh, okay.” It made me a little sad then, how he was working an entire summer tossing a sign up into the air, separated from his family. Driving a Lexus because his parents thought maybe that made up for the fact that they lived in separate countries.

With the last dish washed, I shut the water off. My hands were wet, but I couldn’t find a dry towel.

“Here.” Hamlet took one of my hands and then pulled up the bottom of his shirt to wipe it off. Then he took the other and dried that one, too.

What an incredibly sexy thing to do for a dork.

“Thank you,” I muttered as I looked around at anywhere but his abs.

“You’re welcome.” Shirt was properly placed back in its usual position, and I felt a sharp sense of loss. RIP view of abs. “My grandparents are super cool, though. They’re both retired NASA scientists and have lived here forever!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow, really? They do seem Americanized.”

“Well, Nainai’s from San Francisco. You know, her family’s been here since like the gold-rush days.”

“What!” I glanced at her small figure, hunched over as she cut pears in the living room. “That’s so cool.”

“Yup,” he said. “And she met Yeye at Berkeley. He was there from China studying physics. After Yeye became a US citizen they moved here to work at JPL together.”

JPL was the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena. “Wow, nerd love. That’s pretty sweet,” I said. I watched his grandparents sit back in their matching recliners as they started Law & Order.

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a little smile. “Hey! Speaking of sweet, do you want to get the best shaved ice ever?”

I smiled. His enthusiasm was so contagious. “Sure.”

We said bye to his grandparents, who sent me home with Tupperware containers full of leftovers. I was excited for my dad to taste the toothpick lamb. They waved us off from the front door.

“So, what would you pick for music, then?” Hamlet asked as we started driving.

I picked up my phone. “May I?”

He nodded, and I connected to his Bluetooth speakers. I scrolled through my music until I found what I was looking for. Some dreamy guitar and mellow electronic beats—it was a perfect match for the warm summer air whipping through the car.

I asked, “So, what’s this shaved ice we’re getting? Patbingsoo?” It was my favorite—Korean shaved ice topped with red beans and fruit.

“No, the Taiwanese kind, there’s that new place … from Taipei?”

“I know that one. I’ve always wanted to try it!” I said with my hand out the window, feeling the wind hit my palm. Hamlet’s enthusiasm was contagious, but also Asian desserts were my weakness.

We drove through the practically empty, wide streets of San Gabriel, zooming by old 1960s diners-turned-Hanoi-chicken-spots and endless strip malls designed in faux Mediterranean style, landscaped with spindly palm trees. Hamlet pulled into one of the strip-mall parking lots, and we walked up to a small shop with neon lights that spelled out SNOW DAZE. There were people out the door for it.

“Whoa, busy,” I said, looking around. “I didn’t know the SGV had a nightlife.”

He tucked his hands into his shorts pockets and puffed out his chest. “Well, a lot of us are Asian, and you know we stay up late.”

I grinned. “True.” People trekked here from all over LA to get the most authentic Chinese food because of the growing Chinese population in the area. There were so many regional specialties here that you couldn’t get anywhere else outside of China—from northern Chinese Islamic dishes to brain-numbing Sichuan to Taiwanese desserts.

“Do you sleep before midnight? Like, ever?” Hamlet asked.

“Literally never.”

He bounced from one foot to the other—I would have thought he had to go pee, except that he was doing it in this jock-ish way that I’d often seen him do at the office park. “Yeah, even when I had morning sparring last year, I managed to go to sleep at one a.m. every single night. Drives Nainai crazy.”

“I feel you on everything but the physical activity part.” My phone buzzed, and I looked down at it, surprised. I’d forgotten to check it all night.

How’s it going??? Rose.

We had dinner with his grandparents

WHAT?

Hamlet was looking at me with that polite but kind of annoyed expression people make when you pull out your phone mid-hangout. I dropped my phone back into my purse and made a mental note to text her later. “It’s Rose.”

“Oh cool! Are you guys best friends?”

What a question. “Best friends. Er.” I swished the skirt of my dress around a bit. “We don’t actually know each other that well. We only started hanging out because of the KoBra.” Our fraught history could be explained another day.

We moved forward in line so that we were standing inside the brightly lit shop. The walls were white and light blue, painted with cartoon foxes who were wearing scarves and making snowmen. A strange juxtaposition with everyone wearing shorts and flip-flops.

“So, if Rose isn’t your best friend, who do you hang with at school?” Hamlet asked.

I surveyed the toppings. Mm, taro. “A few friends. These guys Felix and Patrick.”

“Oh. Cool. You hang out with guys? That’s awesome.”