34. Olivia

34

OLIVIA

Something weird is happening.

I’m sitting at a rooftop cafe in Ho Chi Minh City, a steaming bowl of pho in front of me and the vibrant city splayed out below me. There’s not a hint of Christmas anywhere, but instead, a million motorbikes zoom down busy roads and among street markets. Vendors on every corner sell banh mi and shrimp rice paper dumplings, the savory scents carrying through the hot, humid morning air. The mingling sounds of taxi horns and children’s laughter from the park feels pleasantly bustling.

It’s beautiful, and chaotic, and perfect.

My layover in Ho Chi Minh City was one of the stops I was over the moon to land this month, and yet…

I’m ready to go home .

I dig my chopsticks into the huge bowl and gather some rice noodles, processing this foreign feeling. Not only that I want to go back, but also that there’s a home to go back to. I’ve been gone for a few days now, and while I’m loving taking in all the sights and sounds and smells, I feel ready to be grounded.

Ready to be in one place. For a few days, at least.

I miss Aaron’s comfy bed. Miss his amazing shower, which is all the more amazing now that it holds a certain spine-tingling memory. Miss his car, which drove us to that annoyingly—okay, adorably —festive little town. I even miss his dartboard-defaced Christmas tree.

And, dammit. I might just miss him, too.

I’ve been thinking about my magical Christmas date with Aaron (there’s a string of words I never thought I’d put together) almost constantly during this trip to Asia.

On a whim, I snap a picture of the view and text it to him. We’ve been texting throughout my trip.

Good morning from Vietnam! Having a rooftop breakfast. Beats Essy’s view of a strip mall parking lot, doesn’t it?

Looks beautiful. But I’m 100% sure that’s only the second best view on that rooftop.

A giggle—yes, a damn giggle—escapes me.

Another text comes through, and my giggle catches in my throat.

It’s a picture of Aaron, shirtless and clad only in gray sweatpants and his black baseball hat, sitting backwards on his head. He’s sitting on a huge bed in a hotel room, right next to a half-eaten sub sandwich sitting on its checkered paper wrapping. In the back of the photo, Jake and Dallas are on the couch, stuffing their faces with their own sandwiches.

My current view. We won our game tonight, so we’re celebrating with Philly cheesesteaks. You know what they say, when in Philly…

I woke up early and caught most of it. Congrats! Nice goal in the second. But serious rookie move getting peppers on your sandwich

I am going to ignore your shockingly poor taste in cheesesteak toppings because I have much more pressing matters to discuss. Namely, did you jump to your feet and cheer for me again when I scored?

A question that would have once made me incandescent with indignance now makes me snort with laughter. For so long, I thought that Aaron acted the way he did because he was arrogant and pleased with himself. And while I do still believe that he is (at least a little) arrogant and pleased with himself, he’s a different person than I once thought.

A person that I like. A lot.

I was cheering for Perez, of course.

Perez, who I happen to know was out with a strained ligament for the game.

I’m hilarious, I know.

Of course you were.

Also, it’s tomorrow morning for you right now, which means that you are in the future. What’s it like?!

I open my phone camera and turn it to selfie mode, snapping a picture of myself backlit by the sparkling morning sun.

The future is bright.

The future is breathtaking.

This makes me blush like crazy, and I’m in half a mind to fan myself with the menu.

Stop flirting with me, Marino.

No.

Seriously can’t wait to be home.

Guess I can live with that.

We fly home from Philly tomorrow morning. When do you fly back?

Tonight, Vietnam time. I’ll arrive in Atlanta with plenty of time to make it to your game.

I can hardly believe that tomorrow is December 23rd, and the last Cyclones game before the Christmas break. Following that, Aaron and I will have the night together at his place before he flies to Jersey the next morning for the holidays.

And when he comes back? Well, it’ll almost be time for me to move out.

I ended up accepting the first apartment Aaron and I looked at last week, and I’m due to move in on the first. I loved the one that Kris showed us, but the numbers simply didn’t add up. Plus, when I looked up the listing again, it was gone. The place must’ve been leased to someone else, which was disappointing, but ultimately allowed me to make my peace and move on.

I’m sure the one I took will be just fine. I’ve been looking forward to having my own space for ages, yet after a few weeks at Aaron’s, there’s a part of me that doesn’t feel like it wants the space anymore.

I’m shaken out of my thoughts by a new message.

You gonna turn up wearing my jersey, Griswold?

A thrill runs through me at the thought of turning up to a Cyclones game wearing a number 22 jersey. But I’m pretty sure Jake would blow a fuse.

I’m about to text this to Aaron, but then, a store just below me catches my eye.

A custom clothing store.

No. I’ll be wearing something even better.