32

Zee:brEAK A LEG TOMORROW

Me:

Zee:Metaphorically speaking to be clear

Me:Remember, I'm supposed to be with you the whole day studying and sleeping over at yours tomorrow night, OK. Don't go wandering in a mall and post it live on Stories or whatever. ROSIE IS FOLLOWING YOU on socials.

Zee:Urgh YES naggy bench

Zee:Oh, btw, don't be mad, but I told Taslim how you were getting to Singapore. He said you were still ignoring his texts and he wants to clear the air.

Me:!!!

Zee:Sorry beb trust Z OK

I groan and palm my face. I trust Zee with my life, but she wasn't the problem—the combination of Royce and Vern was.

~

I try to relax while I wait for Vern to arrive at the bus depot bright and early Saturday morning, hoping for a fun, peaceful six-hour ride into Singapore. Despite it being 8 a.m., the large, double-storied air-conditioned complex teemed with travelers, many of them making long-distance journeys all over West Malaysia.

I head to the right terminal and find Vern already there, smiling and waving, a backpack slung over his shoulders. "Hey, partner," he calls out. We bump fists. "Right on time, too."

"Hey, partner," I say.

Our bus noses into the bay, and he grabs my luggage. "We better get these stowed away before the queue forms. I'll see you in the bus?"

I nod. Royce turns up then, flushing, rolling a flashy jade-green carry-on. He gives me a stiff nod. I realize he is accompanied by someone—his bodyguard, who also ambles up with a muted gray rolling suitcase.

"I'll bring the luggage to the back of the bus," the bodyguard tells Royce, who nods. Then Royce and I are alone—or as alone as we can be surrounded by twenty other passengers waiting to board the bus.

He gently guides me by the elbow a little way from the others.

"I really wanted to clear the air before the competition, or it would mess with my head," he says softly. "You matter so much to me, Agnes, and I hate that we're in this situation." His expression clouds with pain. "Ever since the gala, things have changed between us….I thought telling you I liked you, a-and you saying it back, would bring us closer together, but it hasn't. It's driven us further apart. Maybe it was just too much pressure on us, maybe my feelings weren't reciprocated, and you felt somehow obligated…" He closes his eyes and speaks before I can say anything to disabuse him of that notion. "If my confession has ruined our friendship, then it's not worth it. I'd rather have you in my life, one way or another, than nothing at all."

My heart twists. He saw the impossible truth of the matter and wanted to rescind his confession. "It's fine," I say with nonchalance. "Let's forget we ever went there."

Something flickers and dies in his expression. He nods. "I'm sorry for my behavior at the qualifiers and after. I was hurt and lashed out."

"I'm sorry, too. I wasn't a saint either."

He laughs wryly. "Friends?"

"Friends," I say. He hasn't released my elbow still, and it's both wonderful and too much at this moment.

A tapping from the window above us. Vern. He waved at me and indicated he'd saved me a seat.

"I should—" I gesture at Vern.

"Yeah, sure," he says. "I'll sit with Jit. My bodyguard." He catches my expression and says, "Yes, I know. Another one."

I grimace-chuckle and the energy between us warms, just a little.

We queue up with the rest of the passengers. When it's my turn to go up, he lets my elbow go without another word. The finality of that gesture feels like a farewell.