The smile on Mom’s face relaxes into a genuine one. “Thank you so much! We take great pride in using only the freshest ingredients.”
“It definitely shows. Everything I’ve tried here has been delicious.”
“Well, you’ll have to thank them for me. Better yet, you should all dine in once this is over. I’d love to meet them.”
“I will definitely tell them to do that, ma’am.”
Mom makes a disgruntled sound. “What’s this ma’am business? Call me Mrs. Chan.”
“Of course, Mrs. Chan.”
She turns to me. “Why haven’t you packed that up? I don’t want his food to get cold.”
She disappears into the kitchen as I tuck the sealed container beneath his soup. When I glance up, she hands me a small white foam box.
“Tell him these egg rolls are on the house.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Only Evan can charm someone as wary as Mom in less than a minute.
“I will.”
As I turn to walk the food over to him, I hear Mom muttering in the background.
“Such a nice boy…so polite…”
As I hand Evan his food, he tips his head toward the kitchen.
“Is that your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“She seems nice.”
I cock my eyebrow, and he chuckles.
“She can’t be that bad.”
“Let’s just say I don’t get free egg rolls from her, and we’re related.”
“No way! I got them for free?” He looks past me into the kitchen. “Thank you for the egg rolls, Mrs. Chan!”
Her head pops up so fast I’m convinced she was hiding just out of sight.
“You’re welcome! Don’t forget to tell your parents to come by next time!”
“I totally will!” he calls out.
Right then, Evan’s stomach grumbles so loudly we both hear it. Rather than being embarrassed, he just laughs.
“Guess that means I should get going.”
“Yeah. You should eat that while it’s still hot,” I agree. “Especially the egg rolls. They don’t taste good soggy.”
He nods, but doesn’t turn to leave. In fact, he lingers, watching me expectantly…almost as if he wants…
“Um…don’t you need me to pay for the food?”
“Right! Of course!”
Of course he was waiting to pay, Michelle. What did you think he wanted?
I mumble a farewell after handing him the paper and watch him head toward the door. Shortly after he leaves, we close up the restaurant and jump in the car to head home. In the darkness, Mom twists in her seat and proceeds to pepper me with questions about Evan. When I tell her about his parents, she lets out a sympathetic sound.
“That poor boy! No wonder he’s so skinny! Next time he comes, make sure you tell me so I can send him home with a little extra food.”
“Okay, Mom. I will.”
“He seems like maybe he needs someone to talk to too. You should get to know him better. Maybe you two can be friends.”
I choke back a laugh. Of the many things Evan does not lack, it’s friends. He’s usually surrounded by them.
Then again, if she is encouraging me to talk to him, who am I to complain?
—
There must be something special about Mom’s egg rolls, because true to his word, Evan starts stopping by the restaurant nearly every night. Each time, he comes by around half an hour before closing.
On the third day, Mom suggests that he wait to order his food until he’s here so that it’s as fresh as possible.
“You’re welcome to pull up a chair and wait,” she tells him. “We only keep them put up so people know there’s no dine-in.”
“Are you sure that’s okay? I don’t want to get in the way,” he answers.
“Nonsense! As you can see, it’s just the three of us here. Most people don’t order food this late at night anyway. Michelle will keep you company while you wait.”
I’ll do what now?
Mom shoots me a meaningful look as she passes by me on the way to the kitchen. Well, it would be meaningful, anyway, if I knew what she was trying to tell me.
“Be nice,” she whispers.
Yeah, that still tells me nothing.
Once Evan and I are alone, I clear my throat. “Uh…how are your parents?”
Good start. Solid start.
“I think they’re okay,” he answers, dragging a hand through his thick hair. “They’ve actually started staying in a hotel near the hospital because they’re worried about exposing me to the virus.”
“Oh.”
Okay, maybe not such a good topic of conversation.
“How’s the training for swim team going?”
He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “We aren’t training. You know, because of the whole social distancing thing?”
Strike two.
I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.”
“At what?”
“Talking to people.”
Especially when said person happens to be as perfect as you.
“It’s not really that hard,” he says with a chuckle. “You just take turns asking questions and answering them.”
“That’s easy for you to say. It comes naturally to you.”
I don’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it does, but Evan remains unbothered. Instead, he leans back in the chair and folds his arms over his chest.
“You just have to practice. Here, ask me a question.”
“I just did,” I deadpan. “Two, in fact.”
He rolls his eyes. “An easier question. Something you would like to know about me.”
Besides how you manage to look hot and cute at the exact same time?
“Have you always wanted to swim competitively?” I ask out loud instead.
Evan ponders this for a moment, the squint of his eyes reminding me of the way he would also pucker his lips while concentrating in chem lab.
Focus, Michelle.
“No. I actually started by accident. My parents wanted to keep me busy during the summer, so they put me in swim classes at the local pool.” He shifts in his seat. “My teacher at the time was a former competitive swimmer, and I guess he saw something in me. He talked them into enrolling me in private lessons with him. The rest is history.”
“Were your parents disappointed when you didn’t pass the Olympic trials?”
He shrugs slightly. “Maybe a little,
