Chapter 14 #2
“To post more pictures with Kai,” I cut in.
“Just the two of us. Looking in love. Blah blah blah.” A hint of annoyance prickles my voice.
Every time I read an article about how in love Kai and I are, I want to throw up.
There was a video someone posted recently, including some footage of me and Kai in London, about how relaxed I look because Kai protects me and allows me to be in my feminine energy.
I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean, or why straight relationships are so reliant on gender roles.
That version of me doesn’t exist, and I hate it. I’m not some lovesick puppy.
“What an outrageous accusation!” Asher gasps from the kitchen. “British food isn’t plain.”
“It sure is,” Sonia says. She slams her hand on the counter, sending a puff of flour flying around.
“I gotta go,” I tell Marissa before she launches into a PR sermon.
The kitchen looks like a bag of flour just exploded all over the counter and Asher’s face, but he looks undeterred, stamping out gingerbread men shapes while Sonia pets Muse.
Sonia sighs. “Have you ever heard of this thing called flavor?”
Muse leaps from her lap and darts into the living room.
“See? Even Muse is offended,” Asher says with a pout. “You know what? I’m going to give all your gingerbread cookies sad faces.”
He squeezes the piping bag, filled with sugar cookie icing, and sculpts an angry expression on one of the gingerbread people instead of the usual smile.
“Good. Why would he smile anyway?” Sonia props her chin on her hands. “He’s about to be cooked. Like humans are cooked by late-stage capitalism.”
In the living room, Kai snickers under his breath. I navigate the Lego minefield and plop down on the rug next to him. “Your sister scares me,” he says. “I’m so proud of her.”
I catch a glimpse of his phone. It’s open on an apartment-listing page. “Are you looking at places?”
“Kind of? I lived on campus last year before moving back in with my grandpa. I’m trying to look for a place that’s not too far from campus or him.”
“I get it,” I say. “Marissa says I should move to a bigger place, but I want to stay close to home, too. I haven’t looked at anything yet. I just hope I can stay close.”
We snap Lego pieces into place, satisfying clicks filling the room as Muse naps on the rug, undisturbed by the bickering between Sonia and Asher.
“Maybe we should look for a place together,” Kai says absentmindedly.
“Maybe.” My stomach flips. I don’t know if he’s being serious, or if I’m being serious. The truth is I wouldn’t mind living with him.
Platonic partners. His words from the other night float through my mind.
After he mentioned it, I got curious and looked it up.
There’s something called queerplatonic or quasiplatonic relationships, a committed relationship between two or sometimes more people that are not romantic or sexual in nature.
Some QPR partners do things like moving in together, adopting pets, or even co-parenting.
They define the rules of their own relationship.
The more I read about it, the more it sounds like that could be me and Kai. But is that even something he’d want?
Before I can say anything else, Asher and Sonia return to the living room with a tray of finished cookies. The ones Sonia’s decorated have a range of depressed or annoyed faces.
After they cool, I grab one that has a numb expression. “What’s this one supposed to be?”
“This cookie is beginning to realize they’re stuck in a corporate job for the rest of their life and they can’t even afford a house,” Sonia says. “Please eat them and end their misery.”
“Where do you learn these things?” Asher asks, the horror on his face mirroring that of the cookies.
“Reality?” Kai scoffs. “That’s life for most people.”
Sonia shrugs. “I feel like school is already preparing us to accept a mo-to-none life.”
“Monotone, Soni.” I point out. “Good word though!” I reach down for her to high-five me.
Sonia takes a bite off a smiling cookie adorned with the words nepo baby written in icing across their chest. Her eyes light up as she devours it with gusto, quickly reaching for another one.
“Do you still think I can’t bake?” Asher jabs a finger at her.
“You get a pass.” Sonia grabs three more cookies before jumping on the couch with a content smile and queuing up a video.
“I thought we were going to watch my show,” Asher says when Sonia plays a house-renovation clip. “You told me you hadn’t seen Friday.”
“You want me to watch plot-based media?” Sonia grimaces at a dumbfounded Asher, then turns her attention toward the TV. “That house needs work. Their budget won’t be enough.”
“What happened to late-stage capitalism, Soni?” Kai teases her, eyeing the screen where a fixer-upper in some random city is being showcased.
We munch on the cookies, each crunchy bite making my mouth water. Asher’s added the right balance of sugar and ginger, and it delivers the perfect kick of spice that tingles on my tongue.
“I’m tired of socializing,” Sonia announces as she finishes the last of her cookies, hopping off the couch. “I’m gonna go play upstairs. And you”—she points a finger at Asher—“make more cookies and I’ll watch your show.”
“Aren’t you still grounded?” I cock an eyebrow. “Mamá said you didn’t do your homework.”
“Normalize not taking work home. And I know you agree with me because you’re the best sister ever!” She scurries upstairs before I can stop her. “Bring me more cookies, please!”
I let out a sigh. I could make her do it, but like I’m one to talk. I used to do my homework right before class unless it was a group project.
After she leaves, Kai, Asher, and I finish setting up a smaller tree in the living room, which somehow starts an argument between them about whether or not we should use tinsel. Neither seems willing to let it go, and I begin to entertain the idea of choking them with it.
“All right. It’s present time,” I declare, lugging a stocking into the living room with three boxes inside.
We decided to do Secret Santa, but we set a fifty-dollar limit so Asher wouldn’t buy the entire state of California.
It’s already weird that there are multiple bodyguards parked outside my house every time he comes over, since he’s not allowed to travel without security.
“Okay, I’ll go first.” I hand my present over to Kai.
“Is this what I think it is?” He tears into the wrapping, revealing a Gojo figure. “Damn, Sasha! Where did you find this?”
“Who … or what is that?” Asher asks. He furrows his brow, inspecting the toy. Kai collects figures of his favorite characters, but only if the figure is remarkably ugly or off-brand. This Gojo’s eyes are different sizes, and he looks like he just witnessed something traumatic.
“Gojo,” I say.
“Who?”
“You know, from the manga?” I say. Asher frowns. “Or the anime?”
“Those cartoons?” Asher looks confused.
“What do you mean cartoons?” Kai’s voice goes up a pitch.
“Are we about to introduce you to anime?” I shake Asher’s shoulders with an enthusiasm he doesn’t share. “Okay, let me start with the basics—”
“I’ll flee,” Asher says, pulling away and grabbing a sleeve of tinsel to defend himself.
“Take this before I regret it.” He pulls a box out of the stocking and hands it to me.
The smell of butter, sugar, and azahar water wafts through the air as I uncap the lid.
Inside there’s a doughnut-shaped dessert I recognize immediately.
A Spanish roscón. Asher stares at it judgmentally.
“It’s not perfect, but I think I got the flavor right.
You told me it was your favorite holiday sweet from Spain, right?
I had my guy send me the recipe. Hope it’s sweet enough.
There are also tiny personalized figurines hidden inside. ”
“You made this?”
Asher rakes his fingers through his undercut, clucking his tongue. “I was going to fly one out, but it would have gone stale, so I baked it at Kai’s place. Or tried to. His oven is prehistoric—”
I pull him into a one-armed hug. Roscones take hours to make. The fact that he bothered to get the recipe makes my chest tighten.
“It’s not a big deal. I can show you how to make it, if you want.” He pouts and looks away. “I’m sure Sonia would like it, too.” He turns to Kai and extends an arm toward the stocking. “But first, my present. Come on. I’ve been waiting for ages.”
“Jeez. Here you go,” Kai says, handing it over.
He fidgets with the string of his hoodie, watching Asher as he tears through the wrapping.
Inside there’s a sketchbook. When Asher flips it open, Kai’s drawings spill across the pages.
He’s drawn the three of us as turtles, Asher’s favorite animal, and chronicled our London escapades.
There’s the time we went to the London Eye, three little turtles looking out of a giant Ferris wheel.
Us bouldering, singing karaoke, experimenting with horror prosthetics on set.
Asher chews on his lip, leafing through the pages with a vacant expression.
“It’s silly, I know,” Kai says, tensing. “But we said handmade or under fifty dollars, so—”
Asher looks down and scrambles to his feet. “Excuse me,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “I need to, um, use the loo.”
He rushes upstairs without another word. Kai turns to me with a panicked look. “You think he didn’t like it?” I shrug, confused as well. “Shit.” Kai gets up. “I’m gonna go talk to him.”
“Hey.” Sonia appears on top of the stairs, brows knitted in confusion. “Why is your friend crying in the bathroom?”