Chapter 4 ~ Minho
Please stop looking at me like that
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Is it normal to love autumn for more than it being the spooky season next month and the fact that it starts the month before that of my glorious birthday?
Unlike others, I liked it when the weather got a little chilly, the shifting in colours of the leaves as they fall.
It’s romantic in the way I picture life in Edenwood Cove being a hallmark movie, and there have been movies filmed here.
You have the Pilgrim Lily Inn, owned by the Di Pietro family, which tourists can’t help but rave about when they come to visit during the holidays, thanks to that Princess and her Innkeeper movie, which also had the famous Padekwa cafe and mini bakery, with the best coffee in town, featured in the sequel movie.
The cafe is across the street from here and is owned by the warm and bubbly Imogen Kane, a single mother of the adorable Kaity Kane.
Then there is the bookstore that I work at. Bennett and Ink, owned by the Bennett sisters, but mostly the eldest, who I have come to consider more like family these past two years than just another friend.
Maxine Bennett has done a lot for me. She got me out of my shell a little when she first came back into town. She didn’t have to take me under her wing the way she did, especially with all the drama she was going through, but she did, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.
Now she’s happily in love with two of Edenwood’s finest, Bennett and Ink is thriving more than ever thanks to all the remodeling and the dance studio downstairs is always welcoming new students while upstairs, in the apartment, Max’s hot arm candies, Ryan and Matteo are either complaining about soccer games, having loud as fuck sex or lovingly bickering about which books have the spiciest scenes to roleplay later with Max.
I would throw up if I could, but Max loves them, so you won’t see me complain.
At least, not in front of her. Now, complaining about my boss's love life with her sister, who has been my best friend since forever, that is different and something we love to do together since our last relationships went up in flames around the same time.
I move over to the front and sit cross-legged on the stool behind the front counter with my laptop balancing on one knee while simultaneously trying to edit a TikTok for the bookstores page on my phone and finish my analysis essay on Hector Berlioz’s Fantastical Symphony before midnight.
The essay isn't going well; promoting Bennett and Ink isn't the issue. Sales have been up since I took over all social media platforms, and I take great pride in knowing I can help the Bennetts.
But yeah, I am failing miserably at writing this essay, and it's no thanks to Nyla, who has been sitting on the counter for the past twenty minutes and is now eating one of Imogen’s chocolate-covered croissants directly over my keyboard.
“Must you shed that thing on my shit?” I ask, my voice flatter than the thin pieces of paper beneath her.
She blinks at me slowly, then looks at her pastry before smiling as if she did nothing wrong. “It’s just pastry flakes, Minho, not dandruff; you can use your hoodie to wipe it off your computer.”
“This is literally an act of war.”
“Oh, don't be so dramatic.” Nyla waves me off when I open my mouth to speak, and I shut it before I can retort, then she laughs in triumph. “Now, are you going to tell me what makes you and your energy so unfuckable?”
“Is that even a word?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She glares. “Dodge my question, you should not.”
This time, I laugh because why is she trying to make a Yoda impression by mixing up her words and making her voice sound weird?
“I got terrible news,” I told her.
And it’s the truth.
I transferred back to Eden U so I can keep working here at Bennett and Ink.
I can’t imagine doing one without the other, and if I had to choose which one to keep, well, the bookstore would always win.
I will always cherish the time at Briarston and the friends I made during my two years there, but I miss being home, seeing the falls every time I go on my morning runs and getting my usual coffee order from Imogen’s cafe.
I miss being here full-time, so I transferred and didn’t tell anyone that I’ve been back for an entire month and a few weeks. It pays to have grandparents who are more than happy to let you crash with them until you work out whether to live on campus or look for your very own apartment.
The only reason I might come across as sour about it is that it means the chances of bumping into my stepbrother are high, which sucks after a year of not having to see his face since our parents got married.
“Well, out with it, what’s the bad news?”
I don’t say anything, but it doesn’t stop Nyla from smiling like a damn cat. Twenty-two years old, and she is somehow capable of weaponising eye contact because I fold faster than paper.
“I’ve been back at Eden U full-time since September, and I haven’t told anyone but my sister and now you,” I ramble as fast as I humanly can because if I don’t, I think my best friend might choke me out for all the answers.
She looks so much like her sister when she does that eye contact thing without blinking; it startles me how they do it so effortlessly to get what they want.
And yeah, physically they look alike with the same dark brown curls.
Similar expressive mouth, same terrifying ability to read people like the books here within thirty seconds of meeting them.
Unlike Maxine, though, Nyla has no interest in playing fair about my decision to leave Edenwood Cove and has shared all the “juicy” gossip I’ve been missing. More so, she shares the ones about my step-brother with me, and I ignored them like I was fleeing the plague.
“You know,” she starts casually while stealing my iced coffee and taking a sip, “I wholeheartedly believe you would probably be a lot happier about being back if you admitted Bellamy makes you insanely competitive and agitated.”
I nearly choke on air before grabbing my coffee back and taking a swig, all while glaring at Nyla when she makes an innocent face as if the words that just left her lips aren’t the biggest offence of the century.
I set my coffee down and drag a hand over my face with a sigh, then glance in her direction again. “Why are you and everyone in this town so committed to ruining my life?”
It isn’t an exaggeration, no, not when Bellamy Maddox is mentioned everywhere I go now that it's hockey season and our parents are happily married.
I can’t even piss in peace without my sister barging into the bathroom at our grandparents' to talk all things Bellamy this—Bellamy that—and how he is so hot and how he’d make beautiful babies with whoever he knocks up.
Insert vomiting emoji times three thousand.
My sister calling our stepbrother "hot" is something I will never be able to get out of my ears. I don’t even know why she does it, but it has to be on purpose because she has her own place in the city and terrorising me just sounds like something she would love to do.
“Oh, so you admit he drives you insane.”
“I admitted no such thing.”
Nyla cackles, then takes another slow sip of my coffee and part of me can’t remember when she took it back from me.
“Babe, you literally glare every time he enters the room as if he had shameless sex with every woman you find remotely attractive.”
“It’s a good thing I am gay then,” I grumble.
“Yeah, only took you,” she pauses, looking down at her imaginary watch. “Oh look, it says here you took all of high school and your first year at Briarston to realise you like dick and not pussy.”
I bite down on my tongue to stifle my laugh. “That makes no sense and should get you arrested because a watch wouldn’t tell you all that.”
“It’s a magical watch,” she counters.
“Yeah, up my ass.”
My best friend laughs so loudly that it draws the attention of two customers browsing in the romance section, who look in our direction with curious stares.
I ignore them and Nyla as I open my laptop to get back on track with what I was doing before she accused me of being overly competitive with him, whose name will not be spoken.
Well, I attempt to get back to work, yet my gaze drifts to the half-hidden navy blue notebook under the register.
My poetry and song notebook.
I only brought it here because having it on me at all times is better than leaving it somewhere my sister can find it in one of my many hiding places at our Halmeoni and Harabeoji’s house. After all, my sister is a nosey fucker, and it is humiliating enough without Nyla knowing the book exists.
Now that I think about it.
Nobody knows it exists.
Not even Maxine. And she knows everything about me better than most people, even her sister, who has known me since before we could talk or walk, thanks to our moms being long-time friends.
I keep my notebook a secret, mostly because sharing the poetry and songs I write feels dangerously vulnerable, as all honest things do. What I write is an admission of things I keep close to my chest, the secrets I harbour, and the little desires I hate to want.
I’ve spent most of my life trying very hard not to want too much or anything at all from anyone, especially since my own mother abandoned us. It is just safer this way if I don’t expect anything from anyone and take up as little space as possible.
“What’s with the frown?” Nyla asks.
I blink and look up at her. “What?”
“Your face looks all sad.”
A little laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. “I was just thinking that’s all.”
She raises a brow as if she doesn’t believe me. “Uh-huh, I am just saying, you do a sad boy face so well, it’s actually impressive how silently you do it.”
Before I can respond, the front door swings open long enough to let a chilly autumn breeze sweep over us and with it follows the devil himself.
Bellamy Maddox.
Just fantastic. Not.