The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient #3)(31)

My face heats instantly. I didn’t think ahead when I put this on earlier, and I should have. With Julian, I was always alert and careful, so he never saw me like this. But it’s too late now. “I know it’s ugly, but it’s really soft.”

“It’s really … bright. Is it salmon color?” Still grinning, he approaches me and pulls the front together tighter, like he’s trying to keep me warm. He doesn’t seem disgusted or derisive, and it’s making me feel off-balance.

“It’s coral,” I say. “I don’t wear this and imagine I’m a tropical fish in the ocean, if that’s what you’re thinking. When I’m home, where people can’t see me, I like to wear bright colors and rainbows and things. It makes me happy. A little.”

His brow creases. “Why does it have to be where people can’t see you?”

“Because people are mean. They say things like ‘Did you see her?’ ‘I can’t believe she’s wearing that’ or they just look at each other and laugh—at me. I hate being laughed at. It used to happen a lot, but I’ve gotten better at preventing it.”

“I’ll wear rainbows out with you. I don’t give a shit,” he nearly growls as he pulls me close unexpectedly and hugs me.

I’m not used to affectionate acts like this—my family definitely isn’t touchy-feely, and neither was Julian—so it takes me a second or two to relax and rest my cheek on his chest. When I imagine badass Quan decked out in rainbows and people’s confused reactions, I smile and say, “That would be something.”

“Something awesome, yeah.”

He hugs me tighter, and happiness expands in my chest. I love this, being held by him, feeling safe.

“It was thoughtless of me to ask, but thank you for staying,” I say.

“It was no problem,” he says. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

A barrage of emotions wells up at his suggestion—fear, excitement, anxiety, uncertainty, and, greatest of all, hope—and I swallow it down. “You have somewhere you need to be, remember?”

“I can be late. It’s just kendo practice with my cousin and brother. Then teaching kids’ class later.”

“You’re the only Asian I know who actually does martial arts,” I comment, intentionally skirting around the issue.

He laughs. “I guess I’m a walking stereotype, then. Guess who my childhood idol was? Hint: There weren’t a ton of options.”

I gasp. “No.”

“Bruce Lee, yeah,” he says with another laugh. “My calligraphy is that quote of his translated into Vietnamese. You know the one.”

“Be water, my friend,” I say in a deep voice that is my approximation of Bruce Lee.

“Yeah, but the whole quote, starting with ‘Empty your mind,’ ” he says.

As the realization hits me, I pull away and look at the tattoos on his arms like I’m seeing them for the first time—the waves, the sea creatures. It appears he tried to take Bruce Lee’s advice literally. “I can’t believe it. You’re dorky.”

A huge grin covers his face, though he looks almost shy. “A little, yeah.”

I touch my fingers to the fish that’s inked onto his forearm and trace the scales on his smooth skin. I can’t stop smiling. His dorkiness delights me. This shy side of him, too. “This looks like a sea carp.”

“It’s a koi fish, and don’t go accusing me of putting freshwater fish in the ocean. My arms are different bodies of water from the rest of me.”

I laugh helplessly. “That’s such a dorky thing to say, Quan.”

“You like it.”

“I do. You might even be more—”

He cuts me off with a deep kiss that makes me cling to him. He tastes clean, faintly of my toothpaste, but salty, mysterious. When he pulls away, I bite back a protest. I could kiss him forever.

“Tomorrow night, right?” he asks, watching me carefully.

I put on a smile and nod, but I feel slightly panicked. Tomorrow is the last time I’ll see him. Ever. That’s been the biggest benefit to our interactions since this started, but it doesn’t feel that way now. Something’s changed.

Even so, it’s a reminder of why I’ve been seeing him in the first place. I can tell him things that I can’t tell other people. Because he doesn’t matter.

Except he does.

But I really won’t be seeing him after tomorrow. That’s what we both want. Well, I used to. I don’t know what I want anymore.

“You asked about yesterday.” I can’t bring myself to look him in the face, so I focus on his T-shirt as I say, “My therapist told me something.” My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my throat. This moment is loud, weighted.

He takes my hands in his and holds on. “What did she say?”

“She said I’m—” Something occurs to me, and I gaze up at him curiously. “Do you think I’m anything like your brother?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “I … don’t know? I haven’t thought about it before. Why?”

“We’re not similar at all?”

“You’re a lot prettier than he is,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.