Chapter 1 My Dilemma
My Dilemma
Crew
January
I’m about one lecture away from dropping this class. Even though I can’t.
The beginning of my final winter quarter of undergrad should mean absolute freedom to take as few classes as possible, but there’s one problem: I need more extracurriculars.
Luckily, so did my best friend, Vincent Li—also known as Vinny, but the guy hates that nickname. That’s why I call him that.
“Remind me why I signed up for this class,” I mutter to Vinny, who is quietly typing on his laptop as our professor continues to drone on and on about the beginnings of the film industry in Hollywood. I’ve heard it one too many times growing up, so I’m just tuning her out.
“Because we agreed to suffer through one lecture together,” he whispers, “before graduation.”
Fair point. Vinny is a psychobiology major, and because our programs are so different, we’ve never had a single class together. The first time we met, he saved me from being ambushed at a football game against our rival university, the University of Southern California.
It was a core memory that cemented our friendship, especially because he simply didn’t care. About my past, my old reputation—any of it. To him, I was simply the guy who couldn’t hold up at a college football game. My first one, too.
A memory he doesn’t let go of.
My eyes move to the clock on the wall, and the second hand slowly keeps moving from one number to the other.
How long is this class supposed to be, again?
We only started five minutes ago, and I’m already ready to head out and go to the aquarium, but my supervisor isn’t expecting me until five o’clock.
The hour hand is at two.
“And what, Mr. Shentu, does a film capture?” Professor Ross asks, breaking through my thoughts.
I snap my head to attention, not realizing that we’re at the participation portion of this class, already. Everyone, aside from Vincent, has their eyes on me, and I’m immediately transported back to my first year at college.
The stares, the interrogation. It doesn’t affect me as much as it had before, but I still feel my heartbeat quicken, and that alone is hard enough to handle.
Think, Crew. I tell myself. You’re not at a premiere—it’s just class. So say some bullshit that can pass off as an intelligent response.
“Uh,” I begin, looking through my textbook. “Film captures the details that we seem to miss with the naked eye?”
Professor Ross eyes me before nodding. “Good answer. Does anyone else have something to add to Mr. Shentu’s response?”
I let out a breath of relief, thankful that’s over.
“Don’t get too cocky,” Vinny whispers. “That’s only the beginning.”
And my best friend couldn’t have said it better himself. Man, I already find myself wishing to go back to Australia. Those fall months—or spring, in their case—were so calm and stress-free. Free of film-speak, nothing but me and the sea mammals I’d been studying.
Just as I hoped for, the class ends an hour later instead of three, and the entire class shuffles out of the room.
We step outside the building, where the cold January breeze immediately hits me. Normally, Los Angeles weather is the same year-round, except for January. The temperature drops, but not nearly enough for snow to fall.
In other words, my ideal temperature.
Ali Rios waits for us outside the building, perched on one of the tables, scrolling through her phone. Vinny approaches her, covering her eyes with both hands. When she removes them and turns around, she smacks her lips to his, and I turn away.
Partly because public displays of affection make the outside world feel a little cramped to me, and also to save myself from the small, figurative needle piercing my heart whenever I see them happy and in love.
Seeing as how they are almost always together, my heart might as well be receiving daily acupuncture treatments.
The day I first met Ali was before Vinny introduced her to me as his girlfriend. We shared a biology class, yet never interacted. I thought she was beautiful then, and I still think so today. The only difference is that I keep it to myself.
My best friend was the same regarding his love life until Ali entered it.
“Hi, Crew!” She exclaims, with a bright smile accompanying those beautiful hazel eyes and a wave. “How was class?”
I shrug, but Vinny speaks up. “Good, but this guy won’t stop complaining.” He jabs a thumb in my direction, to which I roll my eyes at him in response.
“Oh, come on, Crew,” Ali teases. “It can’t be that bad.”
I shoot her a glare. “It’s my definition of hell.”
“But you get to talk about movies the entire time instead of starring in them. Isn’t that somewhat easier?”
Easier? If the word “easier” were a synonym for “triggering,” then sure. Nothing is easier than fishing through my brain and reflecting on how the first eighteen years of my life were hell, thanks to the people I was raised by.
Ali senses my response and, thankfully, drops the subject by asking Vincent, “Did you reserve the lanes?”
He shakes his head. “The palace requires a group of three or more to reserve a whole lane.”
She groans. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, and it’s not like we can…” He stops before turning to me with a grin that I only recognize when he’s about to beg for something. Sadly, I’ve been on the receiving end of that grin more times than should legally be allowed.
“No.” I shut it down before he can even ask me, already knowing what’s about to tumble out of his mouth.
“Come on, Crew,” he groans.
“I’m not doing it, Vinny.” The nickname elicits a groan from my friend. Again, he hates the nickname because it reminds him of the mafia, and he doesn’t fuck with them.
“Please?” Ali begs, pouting her lips.
Don’t stare at her lips, I repeat to myself in my head about five times. Best friend’s girlfriend, remember? You’re not about to ruin the only genuine friendship you’ve ever had.
I close my eyes and count backward from three before opening them. “I’m still set on my answer.”
“Is it because you don’t want to be a third wheel?” Vinny suggests. “Because Ali can invite her friend, and then it could be like a group date.”
Like a group of four people is even better. I’d rather be a third wheel, but even that’s cutting it close. Four, however? That’s much worse. Because in Mandarin, the number four is a little too similar sounding to the Mandarin pronunciation of death.
My superstitious ass would rather be a third wheel.
Ali, however, lights up at the prospect. “Yeah! Carly would be down to join us. She loves bowling!”
“Even more of a reason to not attend,” I mutter to myself. My vendetta against the movie industry is mostly due to the people part of it. The directors, producers, actors—everything.
Just like clockwork, my phone buzzes in my pocket. This is something I can expect every day—every minute to be honest—and each time, I put my phone on silent, making a mental note to block this number when I get the chance.
A mental note that I probably will end up forgetting about.
“Well, you could use a break from freaking out about your film analysis class,” Ali brings up. “There’s nothing wrong with bowling.”
Instead of pointing out all the things wrong with bowling, especially with a group of four people, I press my lips together and stay shut.
“Just think about it,” Vinny suggests. “If you don’t like the outing, we won’t ask you about it anymore.”
And my interest is now piqued. “For the rest of your lives?”
Both of them nod their heads.
“Fine,” I tell them. “But it better only be bowling.” And not a ploy to set me up with Ali’s friend.
Vinny holds three fingers up. “Scout’s honor, dude.”