But that isn’t why I want you.
It’s you.
I settle on something short and sweet.
Forest: Fuck, I’m an asshole.
Skye: Accurate.
Forest: You get home okay?
Skye: I’m fine.
Forest: Did you?
Skye: It’s next door.
Forest: It’s a fair question.
Skye: Want to know if I stumbled into someone else’s bed?
Forest: Did you?
Skye: Does it matter?
My stomach turns.
I can’t stand the idea of anyone touching her. Not Oliver. Not my brother. Not this guy she likes.
But that’s the wrong thing to say.
She doesn’t get that it’s about her. That I can’t stand the thought of anyone treating her casually. Tossing her aside. Using her.
Forest: Are you home?
Skye: I don’t want to talk.
Forest: Are you?
Skye: I’ll see you later.
She doesn’t have to talk to me.
She shouldn’t talk to me.
But I’m doing something.
I’m fixing this.
Skye opens the door with a stern look. She puts her finger over her mouth in a shhh gesture, steps onto the stairs, pulls the door almost all the way closed.
“Here.” I brandish my thermos like I’m offering her my heart.
“Here?” Her gaze goes to the mint green container.
“Matcha with almond milk.”
“And?”
“You drink it.”
She eyes the drink tenuously.
“It’s an offer, not a contract.”
“Okay.” Her fingers brush mine as she takes the thermos. She brings it to her lips. Takes a small sip. Let’s out a big sigh. “Fuck, you’re too good at this.”
“Yeah.” Goddammit, I need to hear her groaning like that again.
“It makes it harder to tell you to fuck off.”
“You can.”
She looks up at me of course, I can, duh. “I don’t really want to talk to you right now.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Do you not want me to respect your decision?”
“Well…” She takes another sip. Stifles a groan. “You’re usually more… fighting me.”
“I’m sorry.” I look her in the eyes. “If you don’t want to hear it, I’ll go. But I am.”
She presses her lips together. “Okay.”
“Can I buy you another?”
“I just started this one.”
“All right, can I buy you another in five minutes?”
A laugh breaks up her frown. She shakes her head what am I going to do with you? Takes another sip.
“You don’t have to talk to me. Or listen. Just take the matcha and go.”
“Maybe.”
“I was an asshole. An idiot. A—”
“Did you mean it?”
I stare into her eyes.
“Do you still want that?”
“Right here?”
“In general.”
I try to study her expression. To figure out what she wants me to say.
Skye doesn’t like me handling her with kid gloves. She wants the truth. Usually.
Does she want it now? Or does she want everything to stay the same?
Is she in love with this other guy?
“It’s not a trick question,” she says.
“I—”
“Is that Forest?” A booming voice interrupts. Mr. Kim pulls the door open. Offers me a hearty smile. “How are you, son?”
Skye clears her throat. “Dad, we’re kinda—”
“Talking on the porch. Come inside. You want something to drink?” he offers.
Skye melts into her teenage girl form. It’s the same thing that happens to me around my dad, though my teenage form is a lot more sulky.
She looks at her dad like oh my God, Dad, you’re embarrassing me. “We’re kinda—”
“You want to speak privately.” He winks. “Your mother and I understand you have a sex life.”
“Oh my God.” Skye blushes. “Dad! Can we not?”
“Are you kids coming inside?” He pulls the door open wider. Motions come in. It’s friendly. And demanding.
Mr. Kim is a nice guy. He’s also huge. Not fat. Big. The dude is as tall as me and he’s twice as built. He’s a bodybuilder. And one of those doctors that works on bones.
“We’re almost done actually.” Skye clears her throat.
“Nonsense. I’ll make tea.” Mr. Kim leads us into the kitchen. He motions to the empty table.
That same round table that’s been in here since I’ve known her. The same wooden chairs. The same shiny white floor.
Their house is always clean. Except for her room.
It’s so familiar. Even this, Mr. Kim inviting me inside, giving Skye the third degree, insisting on fixing tea.
Besides being a doctor, the man doesn’t fit many stereotypes about Asian guys. He’s a former swimmer who can deadlift more than I can. He keeps up with fashion trends. He drives a flashy car.
But the man loves his tea.
“What are you in the mood for today, sweetie?” He snaps into paternal mode. “Jasmine or Gyokuro?”
“Dad, I’m—”
“Jasmine it is.” He smiles, not at all bothered by her trying to push him out, and fills the kettle.
I take a seat.
Skye lets out one of those teenager sighs, but she does sit. “I have to edit more photos, so I don’t really have—”
The whistle of the tea kettle interrupts us.
Mr. Kim smiles. “You too, Forest?”
“Yes, thanks, sir,” I say.
“Please. It’s David.” He reminds me to call him by his first name, the way he always does. “Did you eat breakfast? I made Skye’s favorite.”
“Scrambled eggs with tomatoes and extra green onions?” I ask.
He nods. “He’s a good kid. Knows your favorite breakfast.”