Twenty-eight
Bri
It was so good to see Liem. Meeting his family filled in blanks and helped me understand him better; the way he can be reserved like his dad, quippy like his sister, inquisitive like his mom, and, sadly, the way he shrinks himself when he’s around them.
It was good to be with Liem again—to be near him and relive the depth of the connection we have.
I had almost forgotten how intense it is.
Our phone calls always restore me, but when I’m able to reach out and touch him, I’m reminded of the way my soul rekindles when he’s around.
That deep, fiery spark I’ve only felt with him.
And the sex. Oh my.
Clothes on, Liem is the timid, temperate friend I know so well, but the minute I get him naked, he . . . fucks. He takes over, acting like he knows my body better than I do, then proves he may be right.
There’s sex, then there’s whatever the fuck Liem does to me.
I rode to work with Keisha this morning so I can take her to her baby appointment later this afternoon.
It’s starting to get real. Less than three months until my niece is here, and even less time before my birthday.
I’ve been an emotional wreck all morning.
Between the high of being happy for my friend, disappointment in my lack of progress, and a dash of ovulation pain, I’m a mess.
While I have the car, I visit my dream apartment, one in a good neighborhood, not too far from Keisha, and on a convenient bus line to DTLA and the arts district.
But yet again, I fall short of qualifying because my last two months of bank statements were a few hundred dollars shy of what I needed.
If I can pick up more gigs or a part-time job, I could get the apartment before Keisha gives birth, if it’s still available.
My freedom is at the tip of my tongue, and I am desperate for a taste.
After the bad news, I need something to boost my mood.
A trip for a coffee turns into me slipping inside a museum.
An art studio in La Brea with rotating exhibits, mostly utilized for its connected event space.
The winding pathway through ceiling-suspended partition walls keeps me entertained more than the paintings.
I sip my mocha and take in an abstract of a woman sitting nude in a chair.
Her body is painted in near-realistic detail down to the dimples and stretch marks, but the chair and background elements are fractured geometrically in an unnatural color scheme.
The title is simply Womanhood. She’s beautiful, yet trapped in an anxious space she doesn’t match. Society telling her she doesn’t fit.
The struggle felt different in Brooklyn with Liem.
I pushed myself too far trying to keep up with physical tasks, which I should have known would happen.
The rest felt so . . . doable. We had our little space where everything was okay no matter what was happening outside.
For a day in Seattle, it felt that way too.
Because Liem, while being my safe space, bore the financial weight.
Would I be happier if I took Junie’s suggestion and moved to Seattle, struggling there while having Liem as my emotional support in the process?
Yes. But I can’t give up my life to live in his, because I don’t want to resent the person with whom I feel the most loved.
I can’t let him become part of the anxious noise I use to punish myself.
I stroll away from the triggering painting and shift my focus to happier thoughts. Then the sign appears before me.
Help Needed — Catering
The handwritten text on basic printer paper might as well have grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the next room.
A group of people wearing all black, setting up for some sort of banquet. White floral centerpieces on circular cloth-draped tables. I pick the person standing at the side of the room, watching with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I saw a sign saying you were hiring. Do you know who I should speak to about that?”
“That would be me.” The stern man with a short beard and black glasses holds out his hand for me to shake. “What was your name?”
“Ambrielle. Bri for short.”
“Do you have waiting experience?”
“I do. And I happen to have a résumé with—”
“Are you available to work tonight from seven to eleven?”
Straight to the point, I see. “Yes.”
“You’re hired.”
I stand in shock for a moment. Liem said only a small percentage of open jobs are listed online, but I never thought I’d walk in and get hired on the spot. I can’t deny an opportunity the universe thrusts into my hands. “Thank you.”
“Come with me. We’ll get you your uniform and paperwork.”
“Great!” What—and I mean this appreciatively—the fuck just happened?
~
The night flies by. A simple evening of carrying a very popular tray of caviar on crème fra?che.
I didn’t have to make small talk with guests or lift heavy objects, only switch trays and clean a bit at the end.
The pay is good enough to cover the gig jobs I could have done during that time.
If I pick up enough events, this will be enough to swing an apartment until I can land a salaried position.
It’s midnight when I get home, but I’m still buzzing from the day’s excitement.
Liem hasn’t video called me since before my visit.
He’s probably busy trying to recalibrate after everything we did last weekend.
I am too. I haven’t been fucked like that in .
. . ever. I imagine it affected him even more.
I send him a text, just to see.
Me: Are you still awake?
He texts me right back.
Liem: Yes
Poor baby. I tuck myself away in my room and video call him. He answers on the second ring, his gorgeous face appearing with a hesitant smile. Overworked or overthinking? “Hi.”
“Hi, babe,” I say back. His couch is behind him. He must be sitting at his coffee table working again. He’s always working. “Still clocked in?”
“Yeah. Work’s been a mess. There’s been rumors of layoffs, so everyone is picking up extra work to keep from seeming expendable.
” Even as he talks, he’s looking at his computer rather than the phone screen, one hand on his keyboard, the other on his mouse.
I don’t know where he has me propped up, but I don’t mind.
This would be my view if I were there with him.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask.
“Me? Yeah. Sai’s portfolio is too big to lose, and he won’t let them let me go.”
I hate that he works so much, but I love how much his boss cares about him. Though Liem rarely speaks ill of anyone, I get the sense he genuinely likes Sai. He likes working for him, at least.
“Tell me about your day,” he says. Our favorite.
“I visited that apartment this morning. The cute one near Keisha’s rental property.”
“The green one with the pool and the vines,” he describes from memory. “Was it as good as the pictures?”
“It was, and I want it so bad, but I came up short of qualifying.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, remorse deepening his voice even though he’s still not looking at the phone.
“Are you sure I’m not distracting you?”
“I need a distraction. Tell me more.”
“Okay, good, because I have some big news.”
Finally, he looks at me. “What’s up?”
“I got a job at an art gallery.”
“What? Congratulations!” He looks as excited as I am to tell him.
“It’s the on-site catering, but it’s still working for the gallery. It’s kind of a rotating schedule between their café hours and events, so I can pick up shifts when I want and switch with someone else if I’m having a pain day.”
“That’s perfect.”
“I saw the help needed sign, walked in, and they hired me on the spot.”
“Deadass?”
“Yes! It’s still only a part-time deal, but it’s a popular spot. The schedule already has openings for four events next weekend when my dog walks are the least busy.”
“I’m so happy for you. I wish I could hug you right now.”
I do too. “If all goes well and it stays busy enough, I’ll get enough to qualify for long-shot greenie. Even though it’s the smallest unit, it’s big enough for me and a Bean.”
“Only you and a cat?”
“And you when you visit. But we’ll have to share a bed.”
“Oh no. Anything but that.” There’s excitement beneath his sarcasm, shown by the redness in his cheeks.
“I had fun last weekend.”
The redness becomes more visible. “I did too.”
His full attention is on me now. The same attentive concern he had when he was staring down at me, seeing how hard he could go without hurting me our first time. My pussy clenches at the memory.
“Can I be extremely real with you?” I ask. A warning, really.
“Definitely.”
“I don’t think anyone has made me come as hard as you did. And you made me come many, many times.”
His entire face is rosy now, as if he wasn’t the one turning me out. “You’re easy to read, and I like making you . . . happy.”
To be fair, he warned me he was good. Hell, Natalie warned me too. And I didn’t believe either of them. Shame on me.
“How are you feeling about it? Are you still okay?” I ask, openly inviting his truth.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says. “It’s you. I trust you more than anyone. And I know you love—”
He cuts himself short, but not until after saying the quiet part out loud. It’s what I feared, pushing him into feelings he shouldn’t have for me. The bad habits I promised I wouldn’t let him repeat.
“I do love you, Liem.” My heart flutters when the word comes out. I say it so often, on purpose, though I’ve never said it to him. “You’re one of my best friends. You know that.”
“I do. And that’s what I meant, I swear.”
I study his face through my screen for a moment, then choose to believe him. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he says. His fingers swirl the drawstrings of his hood absentmindedly. He’s nervous. “I, um, love you too, by the way. In case that wasn’t clear.”
That word dances over my skin. “It was. But thank you for saying it.”
The coy version of himself is back. “You should get some sleep.”
“I should.” We look at each other, neither of us saying anything, our smirks matching while we play chicken. I give in first. “I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
We end the call, and I linger in the quiet, teetering between excitement and guilt. I have to be careful with Liem. For his own good as well as mine.