Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Cat
Sunlight lances into my eyes, waking me up with more violence than I appreciate. I yawn but don’t peel back my eyelids. If I can find a patch of darkness, maybe I can fall asleep again. Wiggling onto my other side, I inadvertently shuck whatever blankets that were on top of me onto the floor. Cold rushes in, pushing goose bumps up along my arms and legs.
Great. Way to go, me. Now I have to open my eyes.
Squinting into the morning light, I try to make sense of my surroundings. An open closet door. A pair of unlaced combat boots. An unfamiliar duffel bag in the corner with my Switch on top of it, plugged into the wall.
Holy Palutena. I spent the night in Andi Zhang’s hotel room. In Andi Zhang’s bed. After kissing her.
I’m not even sure why I kissed her. I certainly hadn’t been planning on it. But her face had been so close to mine, her hair on the verge of grazing my forehead, her usually cut obsidian eyes liquid and soft, that I just surged on tiptoe and … let it happen. In the seconds that followed, the world tilted under my feet precariously, as if with Andi’s arms around me, I was spinning too fast for gravity to keep up with.
Of course, then she’d leaped away from me. Said whatever had happened was “not good.” After that, it was all I could do to maintain my composure while pretending to still be engrossed in the minor dramas unfolding in Fantasy DILF –land.
I must’ve dozed off while we were passing the Switch back and forth.
In my rush to stand, I trip and fall on top of the mound of blankets on the floor. It sighs under my weight, muffling the sound of my clumsiness enough not to wake Andi, who (to my relief) is curled up on the chaise longue. She’s sleeping on her side, with her hands tucked under her head and a fleece blanket pulled up to her chest. I stare at her collarbones, the smooth, bare skin between the straps of her tank top, and run my eyes up to her face. Her cheekbones are as high as ever, but they seem softer, somehow, in sleep. I wonder if her ex-fianc é e Iris ever traced a thumb along them the way my fingers want to right now.
Stop ogling , my brain screams at me. I snap my gaze up toward the ceiling, away from Andi and her sculpted shoulders.
Right. What to do? Wake her up and apologize for hogging her bed all night long? Or quit while I’m ahead and take the disengage action (something I only learned about last week at D&D) with the goal of pretending all this—the meal we shared, the things we talked about, the in-game choices we made together with our heads inches apart, the kiss that I swear I can still feel on my lips and that she said was “not good”—never happened?
I don’t know why I’m dithering. I know what Sadie would do. I know what choice a mature, well-adjusted adult with solid communication skills would make. I even know how a quintessential video game hero would react if put in this ludicrous situation.
But life’s not a video game, and I’m no hero.
Unplugging my Switch from the wall and plucking my Sheik wig off the corner of the TV, I GTFO without leaving a note.
On the way home, I compose a text to Sally, apologizing again for what happened at B8 and asking her about her weekend. I send it as soon as we touch down and hang around the back of the plane, waiting for everyone else to deboard. Even though I’m pretty sure no one from Heartrender was on my flight, the last thing I need is to run into Andi, or Philo, or Gabe.
I call an Uber and hide in the family bathroom until it’s one minute away. Once I’m safely ensconced in the back of the white Toyota Corolla, I dial Lou. To my relief, he picks up immediately and agrees to ditch Guy for an emergency meeting.
We meet up at home. After Lou makes us both pour-overs, he sits me down at the kitchen table with a box of tissues and a bag of Takis. The second we get settled, Stray leaps up onto Lou’s lap, then pokes her head up to appraise me with those judgy yellow eyes of hers. I bare my teeth at her when Lou isn’t looking.
“All right, Pebble,” Lou says. “I’m ready. Give it to me.”
I knead my throat, as if that’ll help dispel the swelling sensation gathering there. “You know my boss, Andi?”
“The one you definitely don’t hate?” Lou supplies.
“I disliked her, in the beginning,” I correct. “Since then, she’s … grown on me.” I press a hand to my mouth. More than grown on me.
“What are we talking about here?” Lou asks. “Has she grown on you like a mold or more like a barnacle? Is this relationship parasitic or symbiotic?”
“Louis Alexander Culper.”
“Okay, okay,” Throwing both hands up, he drops the grin. “Sorry. Continue.”
“Something weird happened in Vegas yesterday. Andi and I, we …” I trail off. Now that I’m trying to verbalize what happened, I’m discovering I don’t know how to explain it without also revealing the farce that is Sally’s and my “relationship.”
“Wow,” Lou interjects. “Cat got your tongue?”
I snap out of my stupor to level a glare at him. “You’ve been dying to say that for months, haven’t you?”
“Just weeks.” Pulling my hand toward his, Lou pats it once, twice, thrice. “Look, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? Whatever you and this Andi did, you don’t need to worry about anyone—least of all Sally—finding out from me.”
“It’s not like that …” I amputate the rest of the sentence— between Sally and me —before it can escape and raise Lou’s suspicions . For better or worse, I’m still determined to both keep my promise to Sally and make Thanksgiving work. “Andi and I talked. And played games together. Not, like, kinky games. Regular games. Switch games. I mean, we played a game called Fantasy DILF , but it’s actually super wholesome and twee.”
“Oh.” Completely unperturbed by the name Fantasy DILF , Lou reaches around Stray to help himself to a dollop of sugar. “I was imagining so much worse. It sounds like you guys didn’t even do anything salacious.”
Finding a chip in the side of my mug, I dig my thumbnail into it and hedge, “Define salacious.”
“Wait.” Lou pauses. “You’re not saying you did do something salacious?”
I push too hard and my mug goes flying across the table, sloshing black coffee everywhere. The color of the spilled liquid reminds me of Andi and the day we spent at Revivify, all the espressos she pounded. I spring to my feet to fetch the roll of paper towels by the sink.
“Oh my god, you did .” Pointing his index finger at me, Lou drops his jaw open like he’s trying his best to re-create the woman yelling at a cat meme. “Spill. Now.”
Cursing under my breath, I chuck a dish towel on top of the mess, as if that’ll buy me more than a second of time. “We … kissed.”
“Oh. My. God.” Lou flutters his hands vigorously enough to send Stray bounding. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god.”
“Calm down, Lou,” I hiss.
“You kissed Andi Zhou. You kissed your archnemesis while dating their ex who also happens to be my coworker!”
“Keep your voice down!” I wish I had a grenade to lob at him. Instead, I settle for a muffin from the box on the counter. It bounces off his nose harmlessly and onto the floor, where Stray approaches it, spine arched and hair raised.
“Why?” Lou booms. “’S’not like Andi Zhao can hear me!”
“It’s Zhang, not Zhao,” I retort. “And yes, I kissed her, and maybe she kissed me back, but it’s okay because, because—”
“What, Pebs?!” Lou asks, his eyes shining like this secondhand drama is the best thing he’s heard in years.
“Because Sally and I aren’t actually dating!” I burst out.
This, finally, shocks Lou speechless … for all of one second. “W-what do you mean, you aren’t actually dating?”
Sighing—because now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag, I’m wishing I had just been honest from the beginning—I recap the situation for Lou. By the time I wrap up the whole sordid tale a few minutes later, his entire demeanor has darkened.
“You’re saying that for the last however many weeks you—no, both of you—have been lying to me?” he asks. His tone is low. Hard edged. Hurt.
Hanging my head, I fiddle with the scrap of paper towel in my hands. “I’m sorry, Lou. It’s just … we reasoned that the fewer people who knew, the better. And honestly”—I gulp—“you’re a terrible liar.”
“Oh, now you’re being honest.” Lou scowls.
I deserve that, deserve Lou’s anger, so I keep mum and continue sopping up the mess on the kitchen table.
“Okay.” Leaning back in his chair, Lou blows out his cheeks. “My personal feelings aside, what’re you gonna do? End this ‘thing’ you have with Sally? Wait a few weeks and ask Andi out on a date?”
I stop wiping, stunned into a paralytic state. I stay like that for a minute or an hour, who can tell, until I hear Stray retching. Scooping both her and the muffin up in separate hands, I scoff, “No way. First of all, Andi’s my boss—”
“Isn’t romance in the workplace a whole subgenre in media?”
“And second of all,” I barrel on, “I can’t end things with Sally. Thanksgiving’s just around the corner and my parents have planned out this whole menu involving seitan and seaweed and multiple Costco runs.”
“So?” Lou says, crossing his meaty arms.
“So, so, so …” I stammer. In my confusion, I accidentally deposit the cat in the trash and place the muffin back down in front of a bowl of Fancy Feast. A yowl, deadly enough to slice through eardrums, alerts me of my mistake, and I run back to the smart trash can to fish Stray out. She swipes at me with her paw before wriggling out of my grasp and scampering down the hallway.
If that cat was judging me before, she’s plotting my untimely demise now.
“Sit, Pebs,” Lou says, gesturing to the space across from him. “Stop futzing around with the coffee and the muffin and the cat and talk to me.”
I obey. Back in my seat, I ram my hands under my thighs so they can’t flutter around and make everything worse.
“First: do you like Andi?”
The question is so unlikely and its answer so obvious yet improbable that for a heartbeat, all I can do is stare. Then my shoulders slump and—because I’m afraid of what it’ll mean if I say yes—I hear my mouth prevaricate, “I’m … not sure yet.”
Blinking as if he expected more from me, Lou asks, “Okay, well, do you think Andi likes you?”
I start to shake my head, then stop. “I don’t know.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
I think back on the way Andi leaned in toward me, her dark eyes growing even darker the instant before our mouths met. I think about how her hand went to my hip and squeezed, hard, like she wanted more than just hot breath and warm lips, like she wanted me .
She kissed me back. I’m certain of it. But then she said, “Not good,” so maybe the fact that we kissed means nothing. Maybe it’s exactly like she said: something came over the both of us and she’s already forgotten about those five short seconds we shared yesterday. Worse, maybe she’s disgusted that we kissed at all.
Balling up my damp fists, I say, “I really have no idea.”
Lou sighs. “Well, I guess it sort of doesn’t matter. Regardless of how she feels about you, she probably also feels like she can’t do anything about it. Which means, Cat, if you like Andi, you’re gonna have to be the one to take initiative here.”
“Take initiative?” I squeak, because suddenly I remember how on Friday—in five days—I have to report to Andi’s apartment with Sally and play D&D as if nothing happened between us. “I don’t know. Can’t I just wait for Thanksgiving to come and go?”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know! Yes? No? Maybe?!” I pinch the bridge of my nose, hear Andi say not good all over again. “It just feels so high risk! Why would I give up a stress-free Thanksgiving on the off chance Andi Zhang might like me when she almost definitely doesn’t because I’m broken and abnormal and—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Cat. You’re not broken and abnormal.”
“I must be,” I insist. “What other explanation is there for why no one’s ever fallen in love with me and given me the chance to fall in love with them? I must be the problem.” I pull my knees up to my chest.
Steepling his fingers, Lou studies me. “You’re not the problem, Cat. You’re a lot of things—weird, hilarious, maybe sometimes a bit of a people pleaser—but you’re not a problem. And anyone who makes you feel that way doesn’t deserve you.”
My vision goes blurry. I push the heels of my hands against my cheekbones, willing my tears to go back inside the ducts from whence they came.
“Think on it,” Lou says. “No need to do or decide anything tonight, or even this week. Take your time. But …”
I sniffle. “But what?”
Lou smiles. “You’re the hero in this story, Cat. You’re in control. Right?”
I nod, probably unconvincingly.
“Now: who do you want to romance?”