9. The Boyfriend Buffet #2
“How do I know which ones can kill me ?” he asked in the slowest, lowest whisper imaginable.
I certainly wasn’t about to take him to an allergy specialist for testing, and the truth—trial and error—would only frighten him, so I said, “I’ll let you know.
” Then I proceeded to only use oil and vinegar on his salad.
I also stole the raw onions out of his bowl when he wasn’t looking, just to be on the safe side.
Before we sat, I served us both bowls of chicken noodle soup and set them on my tray.
He immediately spat out his first spoonful of carrots and celery bits. “Too hot!” he cried before blotting his tongue with his napkin. When that didn’t fix the sting, he fished an ice cube out of his water glass and plopped it on his pleasingly pink, outstretched tongue.
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you,” I said through a giggle fit.
“Awh ohu lafeng ah meh?” As he tried to speak, the rapidly melting ice cube slipped off his tongue and plopped onto the table with a petite splat. It made me laugh even harder. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked again.
“No, you just have creative solutions to problems. That’s all. It’s… amusing,” I said. But it was definitely more than that.
Men who looked like Aidan in real life often didn’t have goofy sides like this. Men who looked like Aidan didn’t need personalities at all. All they needed were body glitter and a harness for other men to fall at their feet.
Aidan’s zest for life made him an unwitting comedian, which only heightened his natural—well, not natural, exactly—beauty.
After our salads and soups, we grabbed main courses—roast chicken and rice and spring rolls and dumplings. We went back for second helpings of roast beef from the carving station and swiped kebabs of grilled vegetables. Aidan only poked his delicate mouth with the pointy stick once.
Over our third round of spoils, we discussed Aidan’s made-up backstory again. “How about you were an overseas model? That’s pretty close to the truth, right? You modeled clothes in the shop window for forever.”
“That’s true, but couldn’t people look up the jobs I did on phones like the one you bought me?” he asked, cutting up his chicken into miniscule pieces so as not to choke.
“We could say you worked in a lot of obscure foreign markets, and you don’t have a portfolio because you were in such high demand that you didn’t need one,” I said. The fantasy life we weaved was vivid. I could see it all in my mind’s eye.
I figured it’d be nice to flaunt a model boyfriend at the Aster Christmas dinner.
Even if Aidan went back to mannequin mode for good after New Year’s Eve, it was a story I could milk for ages.
I’m so heartbroken. He had to head back overseas.
Maybe he was the love of my life. It was going to certainly buy me some time before the inevitable, “When are you going to get back out there?” conversations ramped up again.
“What kind of modeling did I do?” Aidan asked.
“Commercials? Catalogues? Not important,” I said. “If someone presses for details, say you left that life behind for a reason. That always gets people to shut up.”
“What made me come here if I was in such high demand there?” he asked.
“Umm. You needed to get away from the idealized demands of the beauty industry as set forth under capitalism,” I said. Nobody in the Aster family ever dared poke holes in a buzzword salad like that.
“I had to get away from the ideas demanding industry beauty over… what did you say?” he asked, eyes focused on his plate.
“We’ll work on it.” I waved an encouraging hand.
“Do I have family?” he asked hopefully.
“Oh, uh, no. That makes it too complicated. You’re an only child and your parents died tragically,” I said, sipping the last dregs of my Coke Zero from the bottom of a red pebbled cup.
“I don’t like how much death comes up in conversation,” Aidan said.
Like all humans, he was both fascinated and fearful of it—intrigued when he mentioned it himself but skittish when others did.
To avoid any more on the topic, he mirrored my sips.
He burped without covering his mouth when he came up for air.
I found it terribly endearing. “I really love Coke,” Aidan declared.
A slender bald man in a ratty hoodie passing our table with an entire plate of croutons overheard this and stopped. “You selling any?”
“Coke? There’s plenty in that fountain machine over there.” Aidan pointed on the diagonal.
“Screw you, man,” the guy said with a huff, wandering back to his lone table in the corner.
“What’s his problem?” Aidan asked.
“He thought you were talking about a drug. Coke is both Coca-Cola”—I shook my empty glass—“and cocaine.”
“Why can’t each name be assigned to one thing?”
“Wait until you find out about homophones.”
Aidan groaned as his eyes wandered over to where the grumpy man shotgunned his entire plate of croutons. “He looks miserable. Should we get him some cocaine if that will make him happy?”
I snorted a laugh, and yes, I was aware of the irony surrounding my accidental snort. “Cocaine is illegal and bad for him, so no. We should not.”
“Everything is so complicated. Can’t I just be a Christmas-tree farmer in a small town that hosts an annual fundraiser?” Aidan folded his arms and puffed out his lips. Either he was full and sleepy or sugar-deprived and pouty. “I thought I’d have a better hang of this human thing by now.”
“I’ve been doing this for twenty-eight years, and I still don’t have a handle on it.
We’re all—even that guy—trying our best. Also, I think you’ll have a better handle on it once you stop watching so much brain-rotting Christmas Movie Channel and start sleeping at night,” I said pointedly.
“Here, I think I know what will cheer you up.”
I ran to the sundae bar where I grabbed scoops of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry in a huge dish.
I doused all three in rainbow sprinkles, chocolate sauce, and more cherries than was likely allowed despite it being all-you-can-eat.
“Dessert is served,” I said once I was tableside.
Aidan’s sculpted face returned to a state of unadulterated bliss.
Eyes wide. Tongue hanging out from between his spreading lips.
That expression needed to be preserved in paint, because when was the last time I felt that unfiltered? That joyful?
As hard as I tried, nothing came to mind.
But the moments that came after—splitting the ice cream with Aidan while laughing at his eventual brain freeze and chocolate-coated face—came real close. Super, sweetly close.