Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

So something REALLY weird happened

Dudebro10:Yeah?

Sourdawg:You know that girl sitting next to me

Dudebro10:Yeah

Sourdawg:So I found out today that she’s dating this guy who’s been straight-up bullying her and calling her crazy

Dudebro10:Huh.

Huh is right. What else can I say to that? My entire face—hell, my entire body—feels like it’s on fire. I swear my scalp has shrunk until it’s squeezing my skull. There’s so much I want to tell Liam. But there’s nothing I can say. Nothing aside from “Huh.”

That’s weird, right? Like, why would you date someone who’s been such an asshole to you?

Dudebro10:Yeah, it’s super fucked up

Super fucked up’s right. I squeeze my eyes shut until the urge to bawl passes.

Sorry, I know I’m kind of hung up on it, but it’s just kind of really frustrating to watch

Dudebro10:Yeah, totally. I get what you mean

Trust me, Liam, I empathize so much more than you think.

I mean, you’ve come across all those stereotypes too, right? You know, the ones that are about how girls just want to be mistreated? And I’ve always believed they’re BS, but IDK anymore

Dudebro10:OK, well, first of all, this one girl isn’t representative of every girl in the world, so…

Sourdawg:Yeah, you’re right

Dudebro10:And second of all, maybe there’s something going on that you don’t know about?

Sourdawg:Huh.

Sourdawg:You mean like…maybe the guy isn’t such a douche toward her in private? I guess. Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe this whole time, him calling her crazy was an inside joke or something…

No. No! That wasn’t what I meant, Liam! Of course Jonas is as much of a douche to me in private as he is in public. And of course calling me crazy isn’t some cute inside joke! Damn it, Liam.

Dudebro10: I meant, like, maybe she has other reasons for wanting to date him

Sourdawg:Hmm. Well, the guy is apparently one of the richest people in the country, so maybe that’s why

Wait, nooo! Oh my god, now he thinks I’m some gold digger.

No, I didn’t mean that. I mean, like…

What did I mean to say? Well, what I really want to say is: Maybe there are other reasons she has to date him, like maybe he’s blackmailing her. But of course I can’t say that. So after an excruciating eternity, I simply type: “Nvm. Yeah, I have no idea why she might want to date him” and leave it at that.

---

Life as Jonas’s girlfriend is so much worse in a myriad of ways I didn’t foresee. I thought, foolishly, that at least a silver lining in this whole farce would be that Jonas would stop bullying me and I would cease to be the school pariah. Jonas did stop bullying me, but it’s not as easy to erase weeks of my Crazy Kiki reputation.

When people found out that we’re supposedly dating, the reactions ranged from vitriol from his diehard fans to confusion from the newfound, tentative friends I made in the last couple of weeks. The latter makes me want to sob. On Tuesday afternoon, the girls once again invite me for coffee.

“Are you and Jonas really an item?” Zoelle asks.

I focus on stirring my iced latte so I can avoid looking at her and the other girls. There’s no good explanation I can give them, especially Peishan, who happily accepted the offer of a double date with Liam. After a while, I say, “It just happened.”

“Are you going with him to the Spring Dance?” Peishan asks.

I shrug. Technically, that was our deal. I’m still holding out hope that Jonas will dump me by then, but who knows?

Looks are exchanged around the table. These girls don’t like Jonas, and god, I would give my left arm to be able to say that I despise him too. But now that I’m his girlfriend, they don’t know how to relate to me. They probably think something is seriously wrong with me, that I’m one of those jerks who’s into Jonas because he’s an Arifin.

That’s the last time they ask me out for coffee.

Online, there are a bunch posts discussing how unworthy I am of Jonas. On Wednesday, I see the words DIE, LOSER carved with ferocity into my desk. Tears blur my vision, and I wonder if I should report this, but the thought of having to speak with Principal Lin exhausts me, so I just slam my folder onto my desk, obscuring the hateful message.

Liam glances over with a start. “Hey. You okay?”

No. Not even a little bit. I force a small smile, but I feel it wobble on my lips. Liam’s face creases with concern, and he scoots his chair over so it’s right next to mine. His arm brushes mine, light as a feather, and goose bumps erupt across my skin. “What’s going on?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. Why is he still so nice to me? I know he’s no longer interested in me, but he’s still so caring, and I hate it. I don’t know how to deal with it.

I can’t bear to answer, so I just shift my folder to one side and nod at my desk. Liam’s expression darkens as he reads the words that have been cut into the wooden surface.

“What the fuck. That’s messed up. Let’s report this.”

“No.” The answer comes out too harshly, too abruptly, but I can’t be bothered to soften my tone. “Principal Lin is not exactly my biggest fan. And this is just a prank. I just have to ignore it, and they’ll get tired and move on.”

“If it is a prank, it’s a really…aggressive one,” Liam says. “Are you sure you don’t want to report it? I’ll come with you.”

“Stop being so nice to me. I’m Jonas’s girlfriend, remember?” I spit out with venom. I wish I could grab the words, take them back, cram them into my mouth, and pretend they were never said. The way Liam’s face changes, hurt slashing across it, breaks me. Why did I say that? I just couldn’t bear it. Liam’s gentle concern, the way he’s been so wary around me ever since Monday, the way our conversations have become so stilted. And he thanked Dudebro10 for stopping him from making a fool of himself. I wanted to scream at the screen: You are not the one who made a fool of yourself. It was me. All me. All this mess that has spun so far out of my control has been my fault, my cowardice. And now I’m paying for it. As I should be. Maybe having to be Jonas’s girlfriend is a fitting punishment. Karma and all that.

Liam’s face shuts down, and he nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I should get used to you dating Jonas.” And with that, he scoots his chair away from me and pores over his notebook, effectively shutting me out. I deserve this. I wanted this—it’s so much more bearable than having Liam be so kind to me. But even as I think that, I know that I have never been more miserable in my life.

---

Jonas’s new yacht is just about as revoltingly huge as I expected. A towering monstrosity that is a fuck-you to the environment, it bobs on the water, its sides gleaming, and Jonas stands on the prow and waves at me. He’s wearing an actual captain’s hat, and I marvel at the surprising capacity I have in me to hate one single human. I stand on the pier as Jonas walks down the yacht and across the plank with both arms spread out.

“Huh?” he says. “Right? Didn’t I say my new yacht slaps?”

I can barely hide the distaste in my expression. I’m spared having to reply when someone calls out to us. Not just any someone. I would recognize that voice in my dreams. I turn around and, sure enough, Liam is here. With Peishan. Who he’s holding hands with.

Kill. Me. Now.

Bile burns its way up my throat as the two of them walk down the pier toward us, smiling and waving. And holding hands; I’ve mentioned that already, right? I mean, what gives? Where are our strict Chinese Indo parents when we need them? Why isn’t a random auntie popping out of the bushes to tell us that holding hands leads to teen pregnancies?

And to make matters worse, Liam and Peishan look straight-up fire. He’s in casual wear, his off-white linen shirt showing off his biceps, and she’s in a peach-colored sundress that grazes the tops of her knees, and they look like they belong in an Instagram ad. I curse myself for choosing to go with denim shorts. What was I thinking? I’m ridiculously underdressed. Liam’s eyes flick toward me before he abruptly looks away. My skin is already burning, and it has nothing to do with the blinding sunlight.

Jonas holds up a champagne bottle with dramatic flair, and I resist the urge to remind him that, (1) We are underage, and (2) It’s barely ten in the morning. I mean, I really, really want to remind him of that, but I don’t know where Liam falls when it comes to drinking, and I don’t want to seem uncoo—

What the hell is wrong with me? Who gives a shit what anyone thinks? I shouldn’t care. What’s happened to me? The old me, the one from Mingyang, wouldn’t even have hesitated before telling Jonas to put down the stupid bottle of champagne.

The realization of how much I’ve changed and how there is so little about myself that I like now hits like a sack of cement swung into my chest. I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat and force a smile at Liam and Peishan.

“Looking good, guys!” Jonas calls out. “Please, climb on board the Catalina. Sexy name for a sexy ship.”

Liam and Peishan laugh at this, though I’m not quite sure if Liam’s laugh is a cringey one or if he’s just grimacing because of the blinding sunlight reflecting off the water and the incredibly shiny yacht.

“How’s it going?” Peishan asks me.

I shrug. “Good.” I don’t dislike Peishan, I really don’t, but she’s just a reminder of this shitty thing I’ve done. She’s done nothing wrong aside from being an A-plus human. “I’m good.” I force a smile and try not to notice how, as Liam walks past me, he completely avoids my gaze. That’s okay, Liam. You’re not the only one who has a hard time looking at me. I can no longer look at myself too long in the mirror either. Ever since transferring to Xingfa, I’m liking myself less and less each day.

We walk across the plank onto the yacht, and as we’re climbing on board, Jonas hoots and swings the champagne bottle against the side of the yacht. Instead of shattering, the bottle hits the polished surface with a surprisingly loud thunk and leaves a mark on the shiny white polish before bouncing out of Jonas’s grip and falling into the ocean.

My hand flies up to my mouth, but not before a shocked laugh coughs out. It is nearly physically impossible to keep the smile from taking over my face. I’m biting my lower lip so hard that I swear my teeth are about to meet. I turn away so Jonas won’t see my smile, and I catch Liam looking at me, one eyebrow up and his mouth looking suspiciously close to stretching into a smile as well.

Jonas moans. “Oh no. My parents are gonna kill me.”

Right. I should be feeling bad for my supposed boyfriend. I reach out and pat him gingerly on the arm. “There, there. It’ll be okay.” That’s what a girlfriend who isn’t secretly repulsed by her boyfriend is supposed to do, right?

Jonas gives me a baleful glare. “It’s going to cost thousands to repair this.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought twice before smashing a champagne bottle into it,” I snap.

Jonas is about to retort when Liam claps him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” Liam says. “I’m sure we can google some way of, like, rubbing it out or something.”

Grumbling, Jonas nods, and the two of them lead the way inside the yacht. I hesitate, wishing I were anywhere else but here.

“Come on,” Peishan says, linking her arm through mine. “He’ll get over it soon, I’m sure.” She gives me a kind, supportive smile, which sears even more guilt into my gut.

Inside the yacht, we’re greeted by a blast of cold AC and a surprisingly spacious room decked out with beautiful leather furniture and a fully stocked bar. There’s even a bartender, shaking a mixer with gusto. Next to the bar is a table laden with canapés. Jonas seems to have recovered from his battle with the champagne bottle and is waving his arms and saying, “Nice, huh? Help yourselves. Only the best for my friends and my girlfriend. Isro here is making margaritas.”

“I’ll have mine virgin,” Liam says.

“Me too,” I say quickly.

Jonas frowns. “Seriously? You guys are lame. Peishan?”

She shrugs. “I’ll have one cocktail, but that’s it.”

Jonas grins and raises his eyebrows at her. Gross—is he hitting on her right in front of me and Liam? Not that I’m jealous or anything, god forbid, but it’s just such a maximum slime thing to do. Liam doesn’t seem to notice, though. He’s looking through the array of canapés with interest.

The yacht starts moving as the drinks are served. I look out of the windows and marvel at the land behind us getting smaller and smaller, wishing that I could jump into the water and swim back to shore. I sip my virgin margarita, which is really very good, and try to tune out Jonas, who’s telling everyone about the huge swordfish he caught last week with his dad. Liam eats the food appreciatively and chats with Peishan, and the silence between me and Jonas is almost physically painful. The yacht slices across the waves with speedy ease, and before long, we’re surrounded by nothing but blue sea.

Jonas tells us it’s time to start fishing, so we all clamber out of the room, blinking in the bright sunlight. We move to the side of the yacht, where a row of fishing rods has been prepared for us. The baits are even attached already, so we don’t have to get our hands dirty. Jonas picks up one of the rods.

“Okay, so this is how you fish properly—watch closely, guys. Look!”

Ugh, I swear this kid can’t get enough attention. I’m so glad I put on my oversized sunglasses so I don’t feel the need to hide my disdain toward him. I take another gulp of my drink and bend down to pick up a rod but sway with the movement of the boat and nearly fall over. A strong hand shoots out and grabs my arm just in time to keep me from face-planting, and I look up to see Liam frowning down at me with concern.

“You okay?” he says as he pulls me up.

“Yeah, just need to get my sea legs, I guess.” I put my drink down and focus on the fishing rod so I can avoid looking at Liam. Whenever I look at him, I see everything he’s typed to Dudebro10 flashing before me. All the stuff he was vulnerable enough to share with Dudebro10. And I can’t risk Liam seeing the truth in my eyes. “Cool rod.” Oh god, did that come out as an innuendo? Argh!

Liam gives me one of his lopsided grins, and my stomach flip-flops. He picks up another rod and tests its weight. “Watch and learn, kid.” With that, he swings the rod, but instead of unreeling, the bait only swings around and around, splashing all of us with spatters of raw fish guts.

“What the hell?” Jonas cries. “Dude, watch it!”

Peishan just looks wordlessly down at her pretty sundress, now speckled with dark red spots. She tries halfheartedly to brush off the spots but only manages to smear them across her dress. Liam grimaces, and he looks so lost and sorry that I can’t help snorting.

“It’s fine,” Peishan says as Liam hands her a wet wipe. “I expected to get dirty while fishing.”

“Nice,” Jonas says. “You’re not squeamish like most girls, huh?”

What is up with this douche and his endless “not like other girls” comments? I bite back my retort and focus on my fishing rod. Let’s see, how do I…

“C’mere, let me show you.” And before I know it, Jonas is behind me, both his arms around me, his hands grasping the rod over my hands. Oh my god. My entire body goes rigid. “Chillax,” he says, guiding my hands to the right before swinging the rod out.

The line unravels with a smooth whir, and with a satisfying plop, the bait breaks the surface of the water. “See?” Jonas says, and I can almost hear the smirk in his voice. He steps back before I can shove him away, and I release my breath, wanting to peel off my skin so I can forget the feeling of his body pressed up against mine.

I’m still standing there, white-knuckling the rod, when Liam steps up beside me. “Hey, uh, I hate to keep asking you this, but…you okay?”

I give him a terse nod. “Just a bit seasick, but I’ll be fine.”

Liam nods, his expression unconvinced. “Cool. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I got my girl.” Jonas pops out of nowhere, carrying two fresh glasses of margaritas, which he pushes at me and Liam. “Two virgins.” I bet he thinks he’s real witty.

I slip the rod into a holder and take the fresh drink from Jonas. I wonder if I’m going to manage to see the end of this cursed day without shoving Jonas overboard. Fortunately, he goes to help Peishan with her rod. I notice that he does the exact same thing with her, putting his arms around her like they’re in a bad ad for sexy golfing or something. Sexy golfing? Where did that thought come from? Liam watches with a bemused expression, though he doesn’t say anything. Peishan doesn’t seem to give a crap one way or another and swings her fishing rod casually.

Just then, Liam’s rod twitches in its holder, and I jump so fast that I slosh half my drink on my legs. “You got a catch!” I shout.

Liam quickly grabs hold of the rod and yanks up.

“No!” Jonas cries. “Don’t do that, you’ll break it.” He snatches the rod from Liam and begins to reel the fish in with expert ease. I hate to admit it, but Jonas seems to know what he’s doing. Before long, we can see white froth on the surface of the sea as the fish is pulled farther up. Then a silvery fin breaks the water, and suddenly the fish is out and it’s thrashing and light catches its scales in a mesmerizing dance. We all can’t help but cheer as Jonas pulls it into the boat and drops it into a bucket. It’s a medium-sized fish with dark silver stripes going down its length.

“Cakalang!” Liam says. “Wow.” He looks up, beaming. “Can I cook it?”

“Really?” Jonas’s eyebrows knit together. “I have a chef here.”

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to clean and cook my own food from start to finish.”

Jonas raises his hands. “That’s really sick, but whatever, dude.”

“Do you wanna come with me?” Liam says to Peishan, but she shakes her head.

“If I see that poor fish being gutted and cleaned, I’m not going to want to eat it.”

I remember Sourdawg telling Dudebro10 that he believes we should all try to butcher and clean and cook our own meals at least once in our lifetime so we’re more aware of what it takes to put food, especially meat, on the table. He reasoned that we only mostly see animals in the form of neatly packaged meat in the supermarkets, and that if we were responsible for rearing or catching the animals ourselves, we would be a lot more respectful about our consumption. And now, Jonas and Peishan have just proven his point. They’re okay with eating the fish as long as it’s presented nicely to them and they don’t have to deal with the reality of killing and cleaning it. To be honest, I’m feeling a bit queasy at the thought myself, but I raise my hand. “I’ll come with you.” And before Jonas can say anything, I get up and follow Liam off the deck and into the yacht’s galley.

Liam glances behind his shoulder at me as we make our way indoors, and I could swear he’s about to say something—I can practically feel him trying to form the words—but the bartender spots us and says, “Can I offer you another drink?”

Liam shakes his head. “We’re looking for the kitchen?”

“Ah. You can pass me the fish you’ve caught and I’ll have the chef—”

“No, we want to do it ourselves.”

My chest expands at the word “we,” which is probably really pathetic, but hey, chests are gonna expand when they want.

“Of course.” The bartender leaves the bar and leads us to a side door. Opening it, he steps aside and ushers us in.

The kitchen is small and nowhere near as impressive as the rest of the yacht. Instead of polished wood and warm yellow lights, it’s all about being functional: bright halogen, steel countertops, ceramic floors. There’s a man inside, presumably the chef, who jumps to attention when we enter.

“They want to cook the fish themselves,” the bartender calls out from behind us.

“Sure, just give it here for me to clean,” the chef says, but Liam shakes his head.

“Is it okay if we clean it ourselves?”

The chef hesitates. “Are you sure? It’ll be a dirty job.”

Liam shrugs. “Yeah, if that’s okay? I don’t want to create more work for you.”

“Not a problem!” The chef quickly opens cupboards, taking out various tools before setting them on the countertop. “Do you need me to stay and help with anything?”

This time, I’m the one who speaks up, and I do it before I even realize what I’m saying. “No.”

They all look at me, making me squirm. That was way too eager, wasn’t it?

“Thank you,” Liam says to the chef, who nods and leaves us alone in the tiny kitchen. Liam turns back to me. “Ready?”

“Please. I was born ready.” Wow, that was so clichéd. Where is this cheesiness coming from?

“Right. Let’s put these on…” Liam tosses an apron at me before deftly putting one on himself. I’m still struggling to tie mine behind my back by the time he’s done. “Here, let me help you with that.”

I almost say no—it’s my habit to turn down any offers of help—but I clearly need someone to tie the apron behind me. My fingers have turned into sausages, probably from nerves. Wordlessly, I nod and turn my back to him. Liam tugs at the apron strings. There is slight pressure from the front as he tightens the strings, and suddenly, my heartbeat and my breath sound super loud in the enclosed space. His knuckles brush against the small of my back for just a split second, but it’s enough to set off a line of flame coursing up my back. I’m sure my neck and ears have turned red now. I swallow, the gulp deafening in the silence. I bite my lip. Is he aware that he touched me, and what kind of effect his touch had on me? Is he blushing as well? He’s so close to me that I feel his breath, his warm exhale, caressing my neck. Just when I’m about to lose it and whip back around to grab his face in both hands and give him the world’s hottest kiss, he says, “Done.”

It takes a second before I gather myself enough to turn around and face him, and even then, I keep my eyes on the floor, because I don’t trust that I won’t pounce on him if I look at his hotness right now. “Thanks,” I mumble. Is it just me or is Liam lingering just a touch longer than normal? There’s only about an inch separating us, his nearness an ache I need to resolve. Then he clears his throat and takes a step away from me, and that single step is enough to break the spell.

“Okay, let’s do this.” He rubs his palms together. I chance a glance at him and am both relieved and disappointed that he’s not looking at me. He crouches next to the bucket, takes a deep inhale, and reaches in for the fish. “Argh, argh. Oh god, this feels so weird.” He lifts, and we both squawk when the fish thrashes in his hands, panic reviving it from its temporary snooze. Droplets of water splash here and there from the silver blur in Liam’s hands. “Help!”

I rush forward and reach out as well, but all my instincts are telling me to stay away from the flailing thing, and I have to consciously make myself grab the fish. My fingers brush against it, and I squawk and fall backward. My shoes slip on the floor, and before I know it, the room is swinging and I fall. My brain hasn’t even had time to register the pain—it’s still dazed from the fall—when there’s a loud splat and a wet, flip-flopping, writhing mass smacks right next to my head. The fish’s tail slaps my forehead as it wriggles frantically, and I half scream, half laugh.

“Oh god! Oh god, oh god—” Liam lunges for the fish, catches it, loses his grip, and the fish lands a foot away from me before he catches it once more and throws it back in the bucket. He crouches next to me, out of breath. “Are you okay?”

I can only blink in confusion.

“Come here, let me help you up.” He holds out his hand and I accept it, noting even in my daze how big it is and how gentle his grip is. I let him pull me up, but just then, the yacht dips to one side and I end up falling straight into his arms. “Oof!”

“Sorry!” Already I’m pushing away, but his arms only tighten around me. I glance up, surprised, a question almost out of my mouth when I realize how close our faces are to each other’s. So close that I can see a tiny freckle just under his left eye. So close that I can feel his heart beating against my chest. Or maybe it’s my own heart, thumping against my rib cage hard enough to crack it.

Liam’s expression is unreadable, his gaze soft as it takes me in, a world of sweetness swirling behind it. “Kiki,” he murmurs, his eyes dipping to my lips.

The door bursts open and the chef rushes in. “Is everything oka—” His mouth hangs open as he takes in the small space, Liam and I caught in an embrace, and, now I’m realizing, the kitchen covered in spatters of sea water. “Oh no,” the chef moans. “My kitchen! This is so unhygienic. Please, let me clean up.” He scuttles around, moving pots and pans with a lot more noise than necessary, clearly as a hint for us to get the hell out of here.

Liam and I break apart guiltily. I can’t even look anyone in the eye. “Sorry.”

“So sorry. We’ll get out of your way.” Liam hesitates with the bucket. “Uh, the fish—”

“I’ll take care of it.” With that, the chef practically pushes us out the door.

We’re barely out of the kitchen when the door slams shut. Welp. We glance at each other, and there’s so much in our gazes that I immediately break the eye contact.

“Kiki.” His voice is so heavy with emotion that it pulls me back to him. I look up into his eyes. “I just wanted to—”

“Yo, you guys done with the fish-icide yet?”

For the second time, Liam and I break apart in a guilty rush. Jonas is here, with Peishan behind him. He’s carrying a bucket with something thrashing inside. When he sees me looking, he grins and lifts the bucket. “Caught a baby shark.”

I can’t even muster up the energy to smile. It’s too much, all of it. The moment with Liam, the disastrous attempt at killing and cleaning our own catch. I duck to one side, muttering, “I need some air,” and hurry outside.

I vaguely hear Jonas say, “Wow, that gruesome, huh? Told you to let the chef do it.”

Once I step outside, the sunlight pierces my eyes and I grimace, shielding my face with my hands. I lower my sunglasses from my hair and sigh, heading for the lounge chairs on the deck. I’m pretty sure I’m the most miserable person there ever was on a fancy yacht. I slump onto a lounge chair and rest my gaze on the endless horizon. I love being surrounded by nothing but the waves. The vastness of the ocean is a reminder of how minuscule I am and how my problems don’t actually matter in the big scheme of the world. Well, usually it’s a comforting thought, but right now, it doesn’t do me any good. All I want is…

Liam.

I want Liam.

The thought surfaces with such clarity, such force, that it shocks a gasp out of me. I can’t lie to myself any longer, can’t pretend that there’s nothing between us. That moment inside the kitchen should have been the least romantic moment ever. I mean, we were literally covered in fish water. But just thinking about it gives me goose bumps, because it’s Liam, and he could make any situation incredibly hot. I just need to find a way to break things off with Jonas without pissing him off, then I’ll somehow find a way to come clean to Liam.

Easier said than done.