Chapter 20
Unopened Words
Kiki
Istared down at the envelope in my hands. I hadn’t yet dared open it.
My mind wrestled with two possible outcomes: if Jon’s words fell short of my expectations, I’d hate him even more, sinking into the same old pattern of suffering. But if he actually managed to impress me, I might start to hate him a little less.
I wasn’t ready to hate him less just yet.
“Katherine?” My mother appeared in the doorway to my room, her eyes on the envelope. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Mom,” I replied, discreetly shoving the envelope into my drawer. “It’s just an essay someone wrote for their Yale application—it’s incredible.” When it came to Jon, lying to my mother was second nature.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She walked over and sat on the bed next to me. “Your essay was amazing. Yale would be out of their minds not to see your potential.” She sighed. “Sure, being on the waitlist isn’t ideal, but if you keep your grades up and make an extra effort, you’ll get your admission letter in the next few weeks. I know you will.”
“Hopefully.” I swallowed. She thought I had submitted an essay about the struggles I faced as an Asian-American. But I had switched it out for another essay that felt more genuine: the pressure of being the child of doctor parents. It was brutally, scarily honest, but it was real. Then the waitlist letter came, and I regretted sending it.
“You will,” she repeated, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. I hadn’t gotten accepted right away like her and Dad. I had already failed her. And knowing that my chances of being stuck on the waitlist indefinitely were higher than actually getting in, I was terrified to fail her entirely.
“You want to help me with dinner?” Mom asked, kissing my cheek and getting up.
“I’m going out to eat with Hannah tonight.”
“Hannah? It’s been a while since you mentioned her.”
“Yeah, senior year is super busy for all of us.”
Mom nodded approvingly and headed into the hall. I allowed myself to fall back onto the bed, realizing that she was right. It had been a long time since I’d spent time with my best friend. Ever since she got together with Brandon, and Emily crushed the group, I hadn’t reached out as much.
I glanced at the drawer. Open it?
Leave it.
Right now I wanted to focus on my dinner with Paul.
I texted him to park a ways down the street and let me know when he got there. Then I got carried away in a long, luxurious shower, using my favorite rose-scented shampoo that left my hair fresh extra long. I straightened my hair, applied cherry-red lipstick and put on a black skirt paired with a red blouse. Kind of fancy: prepared for wherever he was taking me.
But as I walked down the street and saw Paul, I second-guessed my choice. He was wearing a denim jacket over a gray T-shirt, jeans and white sneakers.
“Hi,” I said, embarrassed that our dinner wasn’t a date after all.
“You look great, Kiki.” He glanced at his own attire. “If I’d known what you were gonna pull off, I would’ve dressed better.”
“This old thing?” I waved my hand dismissively. “You look just as great.”
Paul smiled and made his way around the car to open the passenger door for me. Maybe this was a date after all.
Normally when I got a ride with Paul, I sat in the back: either Emily or Jon took the passenger seat. But here I was, sitting up front with him. The air in the car carried a soft, clean scent, like a refreshing breeze. Paul was a smooth driver, unlike Jon, who took corners without slowing down. Paul knew exactly what he was doing, and I felt safe. I adjusted my skirt, realizing it had ridden up slightly.
“So um, how was practice?” Paul asked.
“Kinda boring,” I admitted. “Cheerleading isn’t what it used to be anymore.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean.”
“Really?” People always told me it was a phase, or that I should compete. But I had no time for competitions, not with my packed study schedule and volunteering, which I was already a day behind on. But I had some free time tomorrow. No need to panic yet.
“Yeah,” Paul said. “I felt the same way about football last year. That’s why I dropped out.”
“Then why did you rejoin the team?”
He let out a tired laugh. “Ah... After taking a break, I realized that being without it wasn’t good either.” His gaze darted to his knuckles. I gasped when I noticed the scarred texture of his skin, and instinctively reached out.
“So where do you want to go for dinner?” Paul said.
I pulled my hand back and brushed my hair behind my ears instead. He’d punched Jon for moaning Emily’s name. While I—
I sucked in a breath. I didn’t want to revisit those memories. That chapter of my life was finished.
“Olive Garden is close by,” I said. It was casual, but not too casual in case this was actually a date. My eyes found Paul’s knuckles again. Those scars... They couldn’t have come from the fight with Jon alone.
At Olive Garden, Paul kept up the gentlemanly moves, pulling out my chair for me and filling my glass with water first. When he asked me about my favorite item on the menu, I told him that the Caesar salad with chicken was insanely good.
“Really? You haven’t even looked yet.” He glanced at the closed menu in front of me.
“I always get the same thing. Why should I get something else when I know exactly what I want?”
He nodded in approval. “Well, I don’t.” He flipped through the menu, looking somewhat lost.
“I can order for you,” I suggested, taking a sip of water to occupy my hands.
“You think you know me well enough to know what I want to eat?” Paul placed the menu down and grinned at me, dimpling his cheeks. My heart rate increased a few beats per minute.
“I’ve known you for years, remember?” I reminded him—and myself too. It actually felt like I had met Paul just a few weeks ago. All of a sudden we were connecting on a deeper level than in six years of friendship.
“True.”
He reached into his jeans for his phone and smiled at the screen for a moment before typing out a message. I sank into my seat and took another sip of water. Maybe this wasn’t a date, then.
“Who is it?” I asked, not because I genuinely wanted to know, but to point out that I was still here.
“Oh...” Paul put his phone face down on the table. “Just Emily. She was freaking out about eating cheese tonight.”
“I see.” I shouldn’t have asked in the first place.
“Sorry about that,” he said, laughing nervously.
“It’s all right. I mean, she’ll never be my favorite person, but I won’t judge you for talking to her.”
Paul gaped at me. Wow, that sounded harsh. I took another sip from my glass but it was empty.
“I meant sorry for being on the phone,” he said. “You think I shouldn’t be talking to her anymore?”
I sighed and put down my glass. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Explain it to me then.” He frowned and propped his chin on his elbows.
I took a deep breath, feeling my palms go sweaty. “I didn’t tell you, but Jon talked to me a few days ago.” Paul didn’t flinch. “I was so angry I could barely look at him. I mean, after all the crap he pulled, I’m not interested in repairing our relationship and being ‘friends.’”
I paused to gauge his reaction but he didn’t say a word, only continued looking at me. “Emily lied to you, played with your feelings, started dating Jon of all people, and yet... you guys are best buds?”
His jaw twitched. I leaned over the table and put my hand on his arm. “I just can’t understand why you’re putting yourself through this.” I wasn’t trying to manipulate him. I was just genuinely worried about him. It was unhealthy, him and Emily.
Paul looked down at the table. “I want her in my life, Kiki. If being friends is the only way to get it, then that’s what I have to do.”
I waited for him to say more, but he just stared at my hand on his arm. I pulled away. “But why?”
Just then, a waiter came up to our table. “Welcome to Olive Garden,” she said. “I’m your waiter for today. What can I bring you?”
The interruption erased our conversation from Paul’s expression. “The lady would like a Caesar salad.” He gave me a polite smile. “So, what is it I want?”
I straightened. “Easy, fettucine Alfredo...” I scanned the toppings to choose from. “Plus mushrooms and broccoli so you don’t feel guilty because you’re working on getting your summer body.”
“Perfect.” And this time, he smiled with his eyes.
The rest of our date—dinner, I mean, we chatted about school, our parents, whatever had nothing to do with our exes. “Hannah and Brandon are hella good together, but I miss my bro,” Paul complained before taking the final bite of his pasta.
“They’re in the honeymoon stage,” I said. “It’ll pass as soon as they have their first fight.”
“Ouch. You want them to fight?” Paul raised his brow.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” I squealed, throwing my napkin at him.
“I get it.” He smiled, chewing. “But I hope it’ll last a while.”
I nodded. “Would be nice to have a success in our generation of attachment fears.”
Paul swallowed, and I quickly looked away. He wasn’t like that at all... I mean, he was ready to do anything for Emily. If one of us was ready to be in a committed relationship, it was him.
“To be real,” Paul said, “I always thought you and Aiden would make a great couple.”
“No way!” I snorted. “He’s good-looking, yeah. But as a boyfriend—ehh. He’s way too goofy and too nice to other girls.”
“Oh, is someone a jealous person?” He winked teasingly.
“If someone gives me a reason to.” I took another bite of my almost-finished salad, laughing.
“Same here.”
We looked at each other in a moment of comfortable silence. For the first time in years, I felt like I really saw him. Not Jon’s best friend, Jamie’s boyfriend or the football captain of Boonville High. No, Paul himself. A boy who was kind, who loved with all he had, and who didn’t let his issues determine his entire personality.
He smiled, not taking his eyes away from mine. “You got a little dressing there.”
I reached for a napkin but his thumb was already on my face, carefully wiping a spot close to my lips. I froze as his gaze fell onto my mouth.
“Anything else I can bring you?” the waiter asked, and I jumped so hard, my knee knocked against the table. Paul flinched back into his chair. “I think we’re good, right?”
“Totally.” I nodded hysterically. The waiter strode off again. Paul’s eyes drifted everywhere in the room except for me.
“So, um...” he said. “This weekend, do you have any plans?”
I bit my lip. “Getting ahead of my studies.”
“I was thinking, I still have time to get my grades up. Maybe I can make it to college after all with you as my study partner.” He said it proudly but it stung my heart.
“Yeah, you definitely could.”
I picked at the rest of my salad, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t want to be just his study partner anymore.