18. Shoua
CHAPTER 18
shoua
I wanted more when Anthony and I kissed on the corner of our mouths last night. I wanted so desperately to kiss his lips when he said “Again” with his low, husky voice. A shiver ran down my spine just thinking about the way his voice sounded as one of the summer pop songs I listened to pulled me out of my thoughts of his warm lips.
To my surprise, I hadn’t seen Anthony all morning. He came by to drop off my lilac glass cup of iced coffee and left before I could even say good morning. He mentioned something about a long gym session early this morning and needing to shower. I expected him to come back over for breakfast, but he never did.
I texted, but he didn’t reply.
When I called, he answered with a lazy yawn. “Sorry, Shoua. I woke up early to go to the gym this morning and I need to nap.”
I hung up, flustered, and then went about my day. When I came home from a four-hour open house, I noticed his garage door was open. Unfortunately, the heat had been unbearable, so not many prospective buyers came by to view the home even with the lure of free ice-cold drinks and ice cream.
As I drove up the driveway of my half of our duplex, I could see Anthony excitedly putting paint primer on the new vanity he was working on. He loved to restore old and forgotten furnishings from thrift stores, yard sales, or the side of the road. It had been his passion ever since high school when his woodworking teacher introduced him to it. Although I understood his passion for it, I couldn’t understand why the hell this man was in his garage working in the middle of a triple-digit summer day.
The heat was clearly getting to him despite having a weak ceiling fan and a full-blasting fan tower on. His damp, dark, practically black locks were pushed back as his forehead beaded with perspiration.
“Hey!” I yelled. I knew he was wearing noise-canceling earbuds, but I hoped my scream was loud enough.
No answer as he continued to put paint primer on his furnishing.
“Hey!” I yelled louder, startling him.
“O-oh, hey!” he finally responded, coming to a complete halt.
He pulled one of his earbuds out of his ear as a smile plastered across his lips. I tried not to stare at them too long as another shiver ran down my spine. My thighs clenched tightly together just at the thought of how deep and raspy his voice had been last night.
“My turn .”
I cleared my throat as I focused on his eyes. They had a hard edge along with dark circles, which was unusual. Something was bothering him. Maybe that was why he woke up early to exercise at five this morning.
Even though he was more than an arm’s length away, I could still feel his blazing hot body radiate warmth toward me. Which was why I made sure not to stand too close to him; today was already too much temperature-wise. I didn’t need to sweat any more than I already was, especially with my makeup already a melting mess.
“Here,” I said, handing him my water bottle.
He gave me a curt nod, grabbing hold of it and brushing his scorching, gentle, calloused fingertips over my fingers. He took a long swig as he clearly sweated out a day’s worth of water consumption already.
“Why are you out here working on this? It’s hot,” I said.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another two hours,” he said casually, ignoring my comment.
I glared. “Anthony, you need to be careful. It’s late in the afternoon and the heat is unbearable today.”
He shrugged too nonchalantly. “I’ll be fine!”
“No, you’re not. You’re sweating so much. The last thing I want is to come back out and find you?—”
I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
Last summer on another triple-digit day, Anthony was doing the same thing by working on his craft in the middle of the day. If I hadn’t been curious and popped in to check in on him after I got home from an open house, he probably would’ve had a major heat stroke. I had gone into his garage that afternoon to find him slumped over a double drawer he was painting, sweating profusely.
I had to help him into the house and forced him to take a cold bath on the spot with as many ice cubes as we had in our freezers. I was so worried I stayed with him all day after his ice water bath and monitored how long he worked in the garage every weekend for the rest of the summer. I never wanted to experience that ever again.
“Why do you think I bought the fan tower this year?” Anthony asked. “It’s helping!”
“It’s blowing out hot air,” I deadpanned. “Go inside. You can finish this later.”
He pouted, looking more like his usual self. “No! We’re going out later, remember?”
“Then finish it tomorrow morning.”
“While I’m hungover? No way. I would rather do it now. Besides, this is easy!”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, you’re not doing this now. Just finish it whenever you’re able to. It’s triple digits today.”
“It’s always triple digits, Shoua! We live in Sunset Valley! Summers are never not triple digits here. I’ll be fine.” Anthony rolled his eyes at me.
I sighed. Frustration was flooding my veins as he drank the water I brought him. I wasn’t sure why he was behaving like this. He had been pretty good all summer about putting his projects off until it was cooler in the day. Why was he giving me an attitude right now over something as serious as his health?
He finished all the water I had in my water bottle and got back to work. I watched the bright sunlight reflecting off his sweat-soaked skin. I had always known Anthony to be dedicated. Although this was endearing, it also contributed to him being incredibly stubborn at times.
I stood there as he continued to put on the primer over the vanity. Typically, he’d have the utmost concentration, using practiced and controlled strokes. But today, he was distracted. The way he brushed the primer all over the table was messy and chaotic.
“Anthony,” I called out, but he was off in his own world. His music wasn’t playing anymore, but he still couldn’t hear me. “Anthony.”
His head immediately whipped in my direction, surprised I was still there. “Hm?”
I was about to ask him what was wrong when Jonathan pulled into the driveway in his Mercedes Benz coupe. “Good afternoon, you scamming lovebirds!” he announced as soon as he swung open the car door.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. If Jonathan was coming over, Anthony would’ve told me about it already.
“Jesus Christ, Shoua. Couldn’t you at least say hi before interrogating me?” he answered as he brought out a bag of takeout. “I come here in peace and with lunch.”
Anthony and I arched our brows at him. He didn’t usually come over unannounced unless something came up. He blew out a long, exasperated sigh. “I’m hiding from my mom. She’s been driving me up the wall since nine this morning and I’ve had enough. I had to come here.”
“Maybe it’s about time you move out,” I commented.
“True, I could and then she’d just call me nonstop and ask me to come home all the time. Like your mom,” he countered.
I scoffed. “My mom hasn’t called me in a while.”
“Yeah, I heard from Sai what happened.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was simply telling her the truth. Not my fault she couldn’t accept the fact her son doesn’t want to better himself by getting a goddamn job.”
Jonathan grunted, agreeing. We had discussed multiple times how to get Sai out of his room to start living life. He and Jonathan were not as close as they used to be. But Jonathan had always been closer to Sai than Lee or me since they were closer in age. They spent so much time together growing up going to the same schools, having the same classes, and even being in some of the same social circles.
“I bet this is about dating,” Anthony piped up with a teasing grin.
“Bingo,” Jonathan said tersely. “My mom is insistent on setting me up on a blind date with one of her friends’ daughters because of you two.” He glared at us.
“What the hell did we do?” Anthony asked, confused.
“Your Oscar-winning performances Thursday night convinced my mom that I need to start dating again. She’s convinced that since Julie and Andy are together and now you two are also together, I need be serious about my relationships as well. I’m only twenty-six! Does it look like I want to get married yet?” Jonathan grumbled. “I’ve been telling her that you two are faking it, but she refuses to believe me.”
“I thought your mom knew that this”—I pointed between Anthony and me—“was all fake.”
“I thought so too, but no. She thinks you two are in it for the long haul,” Jonathan said. “I think it must’ve been something Auntie Gao said because my mom thought that I was joking.”
I could see the way Anthony’s forehead creased with frustration and his lips pursed into a fine line, which was a seldom sight to see. He was clearly angry at his mom. Jonathan shot me a shocked look.
“You two can head inside and start eating first. I’m going to take a few minutes to finish out here. I’ll come in once I’m done,” Anthony said. His tone was gruff and rather harsh.
He didn’t wait for either Jonathan or me to respond to him as he started his music again. We could hear it blaring through his earbuds as a low hum, and he immediately returned to his vanity table.
My cousin raised a curious brow at him as we headed inside but made no comment about it. We left him to blow off some steam alone. But I doubted he was going to do much since he was already so distracted.
As soon as the door closed behind us, Jonathan whispered, “I’m not going to lie. You both are so good this whole fake relationship thing you might as well be a real couple.”
I gave him a light slap across the chest as I often did with my brothers when they said something dumb. Even though Jonathan was my cousin, I had always seen him much like a younger brother. He could be annoying and was always equipped with a snarky comeback. But he was a loving cousin and he never hesitated to treat me like his older sister.
“Will you shut up? Anthony’s clearly upset your mom thinks we’re real,” I hissed.
We sat down at Anthony’s kitchen table as Jonathan pulled out poké bowls. It was one of Anthony’s favorite foods, so I assumed Jonathan would be crashing the whole day here since he brought it.
“About what?” Jonathan replied with knitted brows. “He looked damn happy at the fair and on Thursday night with his arms around your waist. Even if none of it is real, it sure fucking looks like it.”
I looked at him like he was a crazed man, and he laughed.
“Why do you think my mom thinks all of this is real? Or that Tyson hasn’t said anything? You really think that he wouldn’t call bullshit when he sees a fraction of it?” Jonathan’s lips stretched out into a wide grin like that reminded me of Anthony’s and Andy’s. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward to whisper again. “Shoua, you two should consider taking this chance and progress it from what you two call fake and into something that’s real.”
I hadn’t even been able to part my lips to reply before Anthony came in. He looked more like his usual self now. Jonathan immediately piped down as I turned to Anthony. I gave him a small smile even though he was avoiding my gaze. After he washed his hands, he sat down across from me instead of taking the usual seat next to mine when we were with other people.
“You okay?” I asked.
He finally glanced up, met me with his light honey brown eyes, and nodded. He looked like the Anthony Hughes we knew, but he was acting like another man. “Yup, fine,” he responded.
“Actually, you look the opposite,” Jonathan replied immediately, peering closely at him. “You look like shit.”
Anthony smiled, shaking his head. “I’m stressed out about making Shoua and me look real tonight.”
“What’s there to stress about when some of the people closest to you couldn’t even tell if it’s fake?”
"What if we get drunk and say the truth?” Anthony countered, glancing at me.
He had a point. I wasn’t worried about that, but he had a point. Either of us could easily get drunk and reveal this was all a sham.
“Maybe we should stick to only having a drink or two,” I suggested as I dug into the food.
Anthony nodded tensely. His thoughts were still occupying most of his mind as they swam across his eyes. But it seemed like he heard me at least. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I think we should do that.”
“You two are no fun,” Jonathan scoffed.
“We can’t take any risks and you know that,” Anthony said.
“As far as I’m concerned, you two are doing perfectly fine.” Jonathan began wearing an annoying, shit-eating grin. “Keep up your great acting and you have nothing to worry about.”
“That’s easier said than done,” I retorted.
“If either of you slip, then I suggest you make out on the spot and do it convincingly.” Jonathan laughed and shrugged nonchalantly. He clearly didn’t care if we screwed ourselves over. “Pretend you’re drunk and that’ll do.”
“ No ,” Anthony and I said in unison.
“How boring!” Jonathan complained. “Who’s going to believe you two if all you do is lovingly gaze at one another like we’re in the Victorian era? That may have worked at the fair and at dinner, but that won’t work at the bars.”
“We look convincing enough for your mom to believe it. What more do you want?” Anthony shook his head and then glanced at me. His light eyes landed on my lips for a second and then he tore his gaze away. “Kisses with mouth and tongue?”
“As her cousin, no. But as someone who wants to see you both make this work, yes .”
The lines of Anthony’s face pulled taut as I sighed at Jonathan’s words. Our different reactions made me realize why Anthony was acting strangely now. It was because of our pecks last night. Although they were far from real kisses with lips pressed together with nips, moans, and lots of tongue, they were still profound.
We’re best friends and . . . friends usually don’t kiss. It was something we should’ve never done.