25
ZOSHA
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It feels good being driven around in King’s truck.
We pull up to an outdoor theater where we can stay right in the vehicle.
The whole reason I planned this was to finally tell King how I feel about him.
Caleb called me chicken shit, saying I’d never tell him and that even if I did, King would deny me.
It’s scary, but it’s the only way I can think of to get close to King, away from Erica. I want to prove Caleb wrong.
Someone comes around to each car serving popcorn. King has a little cash and gives the person extra. He gets a hot dog, so do I, along with a small bucket of popcorn that we share.
We watch the movie. It’s about a guy getting his family out of a very dangerous situation. I’m so nervous the whole time. I’ve never been on a date with King before.
Sure, I told him it wasn’t a date, but for me it feels like one. He’s watching the screen, eating popcorn, barely paying attention to me. He hasn’t looked over at me once. The way he’s acting makes it seem like for him this is completely platonic or even boring.
Is he enjoying himself?
I don’t want to bore him to death.
Turning to him slightly, I ask nervously, “Are you enjoying the movie?”
King looks over at me. “It’s… it’s okay. It’s not really my type of movie.”
“I chose one that didn’t have cursing,” I let him know, hoping he’ll understand how much I tried. I actually picked this movie specifically for that reason, but he doesn’t know it. It’s important he sees how much I think about him and consider his feelings and his faith.
“Thank you,” he says with a tight smile as he turns back to the screen.
When he finishes the popcorn, he dusts off his hands outside the driver’s side window and winds it back up. He’s so handsome. I keep looking at him more than at the movie.
Even with the light from the big screen washing over the outside of the outdoor theater, his beautiful white hair, not slicked back, just messy in an organized way, stands out.
His jawline is cut perfectly. His sideburns are beautiful because they have a little dark tip the closer they get to his jaw.
His eyebrows have this dark element that makes him look exotic with the white hair. It’s so strange but also unique to him that his eyebrows aren’t the same color as his hair. I wonder if his…
I mean… would I ever see…
I’m about to ask him if there’s anybody he likes, but he cuts me off, almost scaring me half to death because I didn’t expect him to speak.
“Do you ever go to the movies with Erica?”
Blinking, trying to catch myself, I say, “Yeah, we have. Not often though.”
The whole time he’s staring at the screen. His eyes stay glued to it even as he asks the next question.
“Does Erica seem lonely to you?”
Laughter bubbles up out of me, which causes him to slowly look at me. “Erica could never be lonely. Everyone loves her.”
“So she’s never told you that?” he asks.
“No, I mean… not really, outside of how she felt with her ex-boyfriend,” I answer, because it’s the truth.
Aside from Erica feeling alone sometimes when she’s nursing her heartbreak or reminiscing about friends from back home or the relationship she had with Tyler, she seems to live up her life, always surrounding herself with people, including King.
So as far as I know, she’s not lonely. Not like the way I feel.
“What’s her ex like?” he asks, now looking over at me.
I’ve never met the man, so I don’t have a lot to give, but I think for a moment.
“I mean, I’ve never met him. But I know he’s in a band.”
King freezes. “In a band?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
“What band?” King asks, consternation in his voice.
“I don’t remember,” I answer.
King looks out the windshield for a minute, then at the dash of his truck, like he’s thinking. “What’s his name?” he asks, looking back at me.
“Tyler. Actually, it’s in my history. She sent me a link to his profile.”
King waits, leaning over to his right from his seat as I lean closer so he can see my phone. Having him this close, where I can feel his breath almost on the side of my face, makes me shiver.
When I show King Tyler, who’s actually pretty attractive, King nods.
“Seems like her type, right?” I ask him, smiling.
King leans away from me like he’s watching the movie again. I guess that satisfied his curiosity. Without looking at me, he asks, “Does Erica still talk to him?”
That’s a good question, because I’m wondering that too. Outside of what she told me about them catching back up, I’m actually wondering if she talks to him a lot more than she lets on.
But what’s really bothering me right now is that King is asking all these questions that seem centered around Erica. Outside of asking if I go to the movies with her, he hasn’t asked one thing about me or how I’m doing.
Sure… he has asked how I was doing outside of this, but the two of us are hanging out right now, watching a movie together, and all he’s asking about is Erica .
He and Erica haven’t even been talking. The little bit I got out of Erica, which wasn’t much, was that this came from King, that he put that line in the sand. So why is he interviewing me about her?
My answer comes honestly, with a little hope of what I want to happen. “Yes, as far as I know she still talks to him and they might get back together… but I don’t know because he’s in New York.”
“They shouldn’t get back together. He’s bad for Erica,” King answers, still looking out the windshield.
Agreeing, I look out at the windshield too, at the big screen and the movie we’re not actually watching. “Yeah. He really hurt her.”
The tension tightens as King’s jaw does. “Men like that are the worst heathens. It’s good that Erica moved here,” he says.
Wanting to change the topic, I turn to him, grinning. “So Erica told me you play the drums really well.”
“I’m okay. Yeah,” he answers noncommittally. “I’m just glad I could give back something to the kingdom,” he says, looking at me before looking back at the screen.
“You give back a lot,” I tell him. “God is proud of you, King. Everyone is.”
He lets out a soft exhale from his nose, only glancing at me before smiling uncomfortably and looking at the screen.
“How often does Erica talk to him?” King asks.
“Who? God?” I answer.
“ No . The ex-boyfriend,” he emphasizes, like he’s a little impatient.
Why the hell is he asking me all these questions? It’s really annoying.
I literally tried to change the subject and he just whiplashed us right back into it.
“I… I don’t know.”
King nods, continuing to look straight ahead. Watching him closely, I notice his eyes lower to the steering wheel as he licks his lips and folds them, like he wants to say something but he’s afraid to ask.
“Does… does she ever talk about me?” His voice sounds small and vulnerable.
My heart is breaking because all he wants to know about is Erica.
Lie.
Lie and don't feel bad about it, because if he’s asking these questions, then he needs to accept the answers.
On top of that, King is my friend and I’m trying to protect him. It almost seems like he has feelings for her more than just attraction, and that’s going to end very badly for both of them.
“She never talks about you except for when she says you’re boring and mocking your religion.”
I feel bad for lying, but I don’t want King thinking Erica likes him either, even though it’s obvious she does.
“Oh,” he answers meekly, not even looking at me. Back out the window his gaze goes.
“Did she ever mention anything else?” he asks quietly, almost hopeful, like he wants badly to know just one positive clue that Erica likes him.
“Like what?” I ask.
King shrugs. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, looking like a little boy in this moment as he avoids my eyes.
I’m confused. Then I say, “She’s not interested in you at all.”
King looks a little sad.
Oh my God, does he actually really like Erica?
At first it was just a theory, but now it really feels like he does.
“Do you have feelings for her?” I come out and ask, only to watch his face suddenly become much redder.
“No! Of course not,” he quickly states, his voice now loud and confident like it hasn’t been for the last few minutes.
“Do you have feelings for anyone?” I ask.
“Not really,” he answers.
“What about the girl at church?”
“What girl?”
“Erica says there’s a girl at church that you like.”
“There’s nothing going on with her,” he answers, his face looking weird, like he’s in a bad mood now.
“Don’t get me wrong, I admire her but… no, nothing’s going on. At all,” he says, looking at me.
Ordinarily I would think he’s saying that for my sake, but something tells me he’s saying it for Erica’s sake, just in case I go back and tell Erica this conversation.
Exhaling, King reclines in the driver’s seat, stretching out his arms behind his head and holding the back headrest of the seat, looking at the theater screen. The way he groans makes me feel horny.
“Do you like… have any relationships or like… date people?” I ask.
King, still with his arms folded behind his head, fingers laced against the cushioned driver’s seat, simply says, “No.” He’s lying there idly, looking through the windshield at the movie.
His head then turns to the right slightly to look at me, and I freeze.
Then he looks back in front of him and asks, “Are you dating that guy, the other baker?”
Electricity spikes through my body because why would he even ask that? “Absolutely not,” I almost yell out. Then I add, “He’s not godly.”
King doesn’t answer. I said that for his sake, hoping he would understand what I stand for and that I’m looking for a person like him, or rather him, without saying it outright.
It falls quiet again. It feels awkward because I don’t know what to say to him. He seems only interested in talking to me if it’s about Erica. Everything else feels forced or like he doesn’t want to talk.
Sitting back in my seat and reclining it softly, I relax as King opens up after a bit.
“What’s after this?” he asks.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“The camp, the youth camp. After you’ve done this, do you plan on opening up another restaurant?”
“It would be nice, but it’s kind of expensive,” I reply.
“I think there’s a few people in my church that run restaurants as their side gigs. You could probably talk to them.”
“That would be a good idea,” I tell him. Then I mention how hard it must have been for my father to come to this country and start with basically nothing.
King replies, “He couldn’t have started from nothing. He already had that talent and that passion, and as long as you have that, you can make it anywhere no matter how hard the hurdles are.”
This encourages me. It’s nice of him to say.
After that, the conversation falls off. King seems to either be watching the movie or lost in thought. His eyes are kind of glassy even though he’s still reclined, staring out at the screen. Very quiet.
There’s a ping. I look down at my phone, it’s a text from my mom asking if I can pick up certain ingredients before commuting back.
King’s eyes snap over. “Is that Erica?”
I try not to exhale in annoyance because the way he looked excited a second ago just kicks me further when I’m already down. “No,” I answer with a sigh.
I feel horrible. King doesn’t even know how he’s making me feel, but it’s not his fault. It’s not like I did what I set out to do, which was tell him how I feel. Now I don’t even know how to do that. It would come off as quite pathetic after he just finished interviewing me about Erica.
King then says, “You should check up on her.”
Annoyed, I reply, “I’m sure she’s fine.”
“We don’t know that. She’s with Jun,” he states.
“She’s a big girl,” I say.
“We’re her friends. We should be concerned about her no matter how big she is,” he replies.
I feel shame. Finally giving in, I call Erica.
Erica picks up. She sounds awful. I put her on speaker. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, but then she sounds like she’s throwing up.
King’s eyes meet mine in concern. “Erica? Where are you?”
Erica coughs out the rest of what I’m assuming is her throwing up. Her voice sounds scratchy and wavering. “I don’t know. At some car meet?”
“What are you doing at a car meet?” King asks.
Erica slurs her words. “Why are you on Zoe’s phone?”
Leaning in closer to my phone microphone, I speak clearly. “We’re at a movie.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Did I disturb you guys?” The slurred words tumble out of Erica’s mouth.
King pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s getting worried or anxious, I’m not sure which.
All I can do is laugh at her response because this means she’s really wasted. “We called you, silly.”
King drops his head and breathes out in exasperation.
“Where is this car meet?” he asks.
Erica’s quiet for a minute. “I don’t know,” she says tiredly.
“Share your location,” King orders.
“I… I gotta go…”
“Erica! Don’t—” King starts to say as a loud cackle of group laughter spills out from the other line.
“Erica. Erica!” King says a little louder at the phone.
Erica is laughing, then the phone clicks, ending the call.
King looks anxious. He sits up in his seat, the clicking noise of the seat sounding loud. He runs his fingers through his white hair as if he’s trying to control his breathing, looking out the windshield this time, not at the screen of the drive-in.
“King, she’s fine,” I say, giving him a soft reassuring smile.
His head immediately turns as he confronts me. “Didn’t you hear her? She sounds extremely drunk,” he states firmly.
“Erica does that. She’s okay.”
He just stares at me. Then his eyes narrow to slits, as if judging me. It almost makes me feel like I’m curling up inside. “You don’t like her, do you?”
His sudden question catches me so off guard. My mouth falls open in outrage. “How can you say that?”
“Because otherwise you wouldn’t hear your friend like that and not be the least bit concerned to go and get her.”
“I care about Erica and she’s with other people,” I say.
“Do you know them?” King asks in challenge.
When I fall quiet, he lowers his voice. “She would have gone for you.”
Guilt and shame surges inside me. I feel like crying. Without any further discussion, King glares at me as if disappointed, then puts the truck in drive, turns the wheel, and starts heading back to the Youth Camp.
???