The Boy with the Bookstore, page 12
When I look back up at her, her mouth is open slightly.
“Seriously?”
I pull at the collar of my T-shirt. “Yeah, actually.”
She laughs. “Then why have you never ordered one?”
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire as the truth dances on the tip of my tongue. I’m gonna sound pretty fucking pathetic when I admit this. Too late now, though.
“Because it takes longer to make an ube latte than a regular black coffee. And when I stood in line the first time I came into your bakery, I noticed how you chatted with customers if their drink took a bit of time to make, and I, um . . . well, I thought you were really pretty and sweet, and I wanted a reason to talk to you for longer than it would take for you to pour a black coffee.”
Her mouth falls open. “Wait, you—you were interested in me? Ever since then?”
The look of utter shock on her face throws me. I mean, I went out of my way to play it cool. I definitely thought Joelle was insanely hot when I met her and started to get to know her, but I didn’t want it to be obvious. So I just tried to be as casual and friendly as possible.
But come on, she’s gorgeous. She has to know that every guy who ever comes in contact with her is unquestionably struck by her looks and how sweet she is.
“Um, yeah. I’ve liked you since I met you, Joelle,” I say with a chuckle, hoping it softens just how much of a weirdo I must come off like in this moment. “I had a pretty big crush on you.”
That makes me sound like I’m in high school. Jesus.
Just then she holds up a hand. “Wait. Do you even like ube lattes?”
“Not at first. It was a lot more sugar than I’m used to. But I kind of love them now.”
She bursts out laughing, which makes me laugh too. After a minute, she turns to check on the drip coffee.
“Here.” She hands me a paper cup filled with steamy black liquid. “And don’t worry. You don’t have to order ube lattes anymore if you don’t want to.”
She winks at me and I swear to god my heart flutters. Then she sighs and plants her hands on the edges of the countertop. “Well, I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you.”
She straightens up to her full height and looks me square in the eye. “I’ve had a huge crush on you since you moved in next door.”
“No way.”
My head falls back as I let out a groan that turns into a laugh. Her giggles echo off the surface of the concrete slab. And then we look at each other and shrug.
“What a twist, huh? Didn’t even see it coming.”
I smile at her remark, then blow on my coffee before taking a sip.
“So this whole time we had a thing for each other?” I say after I swallow.
“Yup.” She lets out a frustrated laugh. “God, we really went about things in a strange way, didn’t we? Spending a year and a half crushing on each other, not saying a word, and then making out in your office one random day.”
She looks off to the side and shakes her head like she can’t believe it either.
“Why did you say you wanted to cool things off between us the day that Ivan told us about the renovation? Have your feelings changed?”
The directness of her question catches me off guard. She has every right to ask, though. It’s a pretty mixed bag of signals I was sending.
I shake my head. “Not at all. I still really like you, Joelle.”
The uncertainty in her gaze fades.
“Honestly, I was so thrown off and upset about the renovation that for a split second, I thought it might be easier if we didn’t go further with each other. Everything felt like such a mess and I didn’t want to complicate things even more,” I say. “But pretty much as soon as I said that to you, I regretted it. I realized it was just a fleeting thought. It wasn’t how I really felt. But then you stormed out before I could take it back and didn’t answer my calls. I felt like the biggest asshole for hurting your feelings. And I figured after that massive screwup, you’d want nothing to do with me.”
She glances off to the side, like she’s thinking carefully about what I’ve said. For a few seconds, we’re both silent.
She turns back to me. “That really hurt my feelings how you went back and forth like that,” she says.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
A soft smile tugs at her lips. “But I still really like you too, Max.”
My face stretches into the biggest grin.
When she turns back to look at me, the light catches her face and I notice that dusting of flour on the tip of her button nose again.
I reach over and brush it off with my thumb. A lip bite is her response, which makes my blood pump hot.
“You had a little flour on your nose,” I rasp.
“Thanks,” she whispers back, then clears her throat. “Funny story. I actually was going to ask you out. The day before we made out in your office.”
“Wait, you were?” I ask.
She nods, her full cheeks turning pink. I notice her neck and chest flush too. A hard swallow moves through my throat. Something about discovering that so much of Joelle’s body turns red when she blushes is sexy as fuck.
“Yeah, um, all that talk about sucking and licking bone marrow kind of derailed things. But um, my plan was to ask you out for a drink that day.”
I think back to that morning, recalling how adorably flustered she was.
“For the record, I would have said yes. Obviously.”
We both go quiet for a few moments before exchanging a knowing smile.
And then my brain finally catches up.
She couldn’t have dropped a bigger hint. Ask her out now!
“Let’s go out,” I finally say.
Confusion mars her angelic face.
“What, now?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Um, because we both have to work a full day.”
I shrug. “So? Let’s close for the day. I think we both deserve a break after all the hours we’ve put in lately in this concrete box.”
That smile I love so much appears as she considers it.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
I swipe my coffee, and she unties her apron, tosses it onto the table, and then grabs her purse from behind the counter.
She starts to ask me what I’ve got planned this early in the morning but abruptly stops talking. When I turn to her, she’s staring wide-eyed at her phone.
“What is it?”
When she looks up at me and I see her eyes brimming with tears, something weird twists inside me. I haven’t experienced this in years. It takes a second, but I finally recognize it. It’s the fear of seeing someone I care about in pain.
I swallow back the dread as it burns up my throat and focus on helping Joelle.
“Joelle,” I say softly. “What’s wrong?”
Her faces twists in pain as she looks up at me. “My aunt. She—I just got a text from my dad . . . I missed so many calls . . .”
I reach out and touch her arm.
“My aunt fell. She’s hurt. I—I need to . . .” She steps out of my hold and stumbles toward the door, but I catch her wrist, gently turning her back to me.
“Let me drive you to her. You can’t drive like this. You’re too upset.”
She opens her mouth to object, but I shake my head.
“Joelle. Let me help you.”
My words don’t register right away. But when they do, a memory I buried deep from years ago resurfaces.
I’m walking into a stranger’s apartment and see my mother collapsed on the floor, a pool of her own vomit under her face.
Panic washes through me, then fear, then dread, then anger.
Mom. Let me help you. Please.
I blink and the memory fades, and I refocus on the moment. I look at Joelle once more, at the tears pooling in her deep umber eyes that are as big as saucers, at her quivering lip, at the worry that’s etched in her entire expression.
“Please let me drive you.”
She nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
Chapter 12
Joelle
We make it to the Adventist Health emergency room in record time thanks to Max’s driving. I didn’t think it was possible to cover that stretch of 92nd Avenue and Market Street in less than five minutes, but given the early time and the fact that Max drives like a Formula One racer, it was doable.
After he drops me off at the hospital entrance, he goes to park his car. I dart through the halls, my heart pounding. When I see Auntie Elba resting in a hospital bed, her left leg in a cast but otherwise looking well with Mom sitting next to her, I release the breath I’ve been holding ever since I got the message from Dad.
“Auntie.” I run over and hug her. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yes, anak. I’m fine.”
“Manang, I told you to be careful on that stepladder. You never listen,” Mom mutters, arms folded. Disappointment radiates from the frown she trains on Auntie.
Auntie shakes her hand. “Ay, adingko, I heard you already. You said it a million times. You don’t need to keep saying it.”
“I just don’t understand why you don’t listen to me. You don’t need to clean the cabinets at the crack of dawn.”
Auntie Elba shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Because the tops of those cabinets are filthy. Do you know how much grease is caked on them? It’s so bad for the wood.”
Mom scolds Auntie for daring to question how she takes care of her own kitchen. I sigh as the two of them bicker. Normally I’d laugh and roll my eyes. As much as they love each other, they argue about the most random things. They’ve always been like that, even before Auntie and Apong moved in with Mom and Dad.
“I was just trying to be helpful,” Auntie Elba mutters as Max walks in.
“Hi.” He stands in the doorway, his eyes darting between me, Mom, and Auntie, like he’s unsure of where to stand and what else to say.
“Oh, hi, Max!” Both Mom and Auntie beam at him, clearly surprised yet thrilled to see him.
“Come in, come in!” Auntie gestures.
He walks over to stand next to me. Even though we’re not touching, I can sense his unease. It radiates off him like static energy. He must hate hospitals. I don’t blame him. I don’t have an extreme aversion to them, but I’ve never been a fan. That weird sanitizer smell and the sterile, confusing layout they all seem to have where all the floors and hallways look the same, making it so easy to get lost.
“What a surprise seeing you here,” Mom says to Max.
My mind races through the morning’s developments as I try to explain why Max is here, but he speaks first.
“I offered to bring Joelle here when she found out about your injury. I didn’t want her to drive when she was worried about you.” He nods to Elba.
Both she and Mom go “aww.”
“You holding up okay, Elba?” he asks.
“Oh yes, yes. I’ll be just fine. Just have to rest for the next few weeks so this bruise on the bone in my ankle can heal.”
“Well, at least you’ll finally listen to me about leaving my kitchen alone,” Mom mutters.
“I was just trying to help,” Auntie huffs. “Joelle usually cleans the tops of the cabinets because she’s taller than me, but poor thing’s been working so hard lately at the bakery, she hasn’t been home much. I was just trying to pitch in more.”
Mom and Auntie’s bickering continues in Ilocano. Soon they’re speaking so quickly that it’s hard for me to understand what they’re saying. It’s just as well because I’m gutted by Auntie’s words.
Even though I know she didn’t mean for her comment about my absence at home to come off so harshly, that’s exactly how it hit. These past couple of weeks working in a cramped new space all the while feuding with Max has sucked up all my time and energy. I realize now that all I pretty much do when I’m home is sleep and shower. I try to go into the house and chat a bit with my family if they happen to be around after my work shift, but I haven’t even done that in a while. The only time I see them for any stretch of time is when they come to help out at the bakery—and lately, I haven’t been giving them much attention there either since I’ve been so distracted by arguing with Max.
I’m absent from my family in a whole new way . . . in a way I vowed I never would be. And now it’s hurting them.
Guilt takes hold of me. It lands so heavy that my shoulders hunch forward.
Max seems to notice because he asks me if I’m okay.
“Um, yeah. I’m just . . . thinking about some things.”
He nods like he knows exactly what I mean, even though I know he can’t possibly.
And then he looks between Mom and Auntie, his expression unsure. “I don’t understand what they’re saying, but I’m guessing they’re arguing judging by their tone? And how they’re frowning at each other.”
I sigh and turn to them. “Mom. Auntie.”
They stop and look up at me. “Auntie, I’m so sorry for forgetting about the cabinets. It’s my fault you got hurt.”
“It’s not your fault your auntie doesn’t know how to listen to me,” Mom says.
“I listen just fine,” Auntie says sharply before turning a tender gaze on me. “Anak, you are so busy with your business. I just wanted to give you a bit of a break. It’s not your fault.”
I nod, even though I know deep down that this never would have happened, she never would have hurt herself, if I had been more present at home.
I contemplate pressing the issue but decide not to. Now’s not the time or the place to talk about my failings as a daughter, niece, and granddaughter, especially now when Auntie’s recovery should be the focus.
I ask Auntie and Mom about going home once Auntie’s discharged, but Mom reassures me she can handle it on her own.
“You sure about that, Ramona?” Auntie says sarcastically.
I wince. She only ever uses Mom’s actual name when she’s annoyed with her, normally preferring to call her ading or adingko, the Filipino term of endearment for a younger sibling.
“I still think I should go home with you and help take care of Auntie,” I say.
“Oh, don’t be silly, anak,” Mom says. “You don’t need to do that. Once we finish up with the paperwork here, I’m just going to help Auntie get settled at home. Then I’m running errands with Apong.”
Auntie Elba shakes her head. “No need to fuss over me. I’ll be set up on the sofa just in time to watch my favorite morning soap operas.”
I’m slightly heartened that they’re agreeing and getting along in this moment, but the guilt still bites at me. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” they say in unison.
I glance over at Max, who’s looking at me. The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. “Still up for taking the day off?”
“You were going to take the day off?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, um, we were thinking . . . I mean, Max and I were chatting before I noticed all the missed messages on my phone about Auntie. He mentioned maybe closing the store and taking the day off. But I don’t have to do that if you need—”
“Actually,” Mom interrupts. “I think Max is right. Why don’t you take today and rest?”
“Oh yes, I think that’s a great idea. You’ve been working so hard, anakko. You deserve a break.” Auntie Elba smiles and nods along with Mom.
My head spins at just how quickly they went from fighting to agreeing with each other.
“You never take a day off normally,” Mom says. “You work every day usually. Why not play hooky just this once?”
I catch Max smiling at her phrasing.
“Yes. You had a family emergency, so you should take full advantage and not show up to work.”
“Auntie, it’s clearly not an emergency anymore.”
She winks. “No one has to know that. You kids go and have some fun.”
“I have to agree with your mom and aunt,” Max says. “I’ve worked next to you almost every day for over a year and a half. You deserve one day off. I think we both do.”
I don’t miss that glimmer of mischief that dances in his eyes.
I turn to Mom. “Are you sure you’re okay taking Auntie home by yourself?”
She frowns at me. “Of course. I’ve been taking care of my sister ever since we were kids.”
Auntie scoffs. “You’ve got that mixed up, ading. I’m older than you, so it’s me who’s been taking care of you.”
“Ha. I don’t know about that,” Mom mutters, which makes Max laugh.
Mom assures me that the hospital staff are discharging her soon and will help her out to the car.
“Dad’s home right now so he’ll help me bring her into the house and get settled.”
I mull over Mom’s words. “Okay.” I turn to Max. “Let’s play hooky.”
* * *
• • •
“Where are we going?” I ask Max as he drives through North Portland.
“It’s a surprise.”
I don’t miss the way the right corner of his mouth hooks up. Instead of peppering him with more questions, I settle deeper into the passenger seat of his hatchback and check my phone again to make sure no one has called or messaged me.
“I think your family’s fine, Joelle,” he says gently.
I shove my phone back in my purse. “I know. It’s just a habit.”
He pulls into a neighborhood with older Craftsman homes lining the blocks.
“I think it’s really cool how close you are with your family,” he says after a minute.
That tiny bit of worry festering inside me after saying good-bye to my mom and aunt in the hospital dissipates, leaving something warm behind.
“Thanks for saying that.”
He pulls into a narrow driveway of a small Craftsman house with light blue siding, then turns off the car.
