Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LAKE

113 bobas left until we both die …

Just when I’m starting to worry that Tam has forgotten all about me, I get a text message.

What are you going to be next? A corn dog? A can of soda? Does dressing up like the food actually make people want to buy it?

I smile and nest my phone in my lap, turning to cast a look at Joules. He’s driving again, listening to his cowboy music and tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. He likes songs from before our grandparents were even born. I don’t understand it. His number one song on his Spotify Wrapped was “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky” by Johnny Cashfrom 1949.

“Do you listen to this music just to be contrary?” I ask him, and he lifts the corner of his lip at me.

“Driver gets to pick the music. It’s a universal truth. Ask anyone.”

“But you always drive,” I retort, gesturing at him. “I have my license, too, you know. Also, I’m twenty-two years old coming up on my twenty-third birthday. Joules, I’m an adult, and I’m perfectly capable of driving a car.”

“Yeah, but then where would you find the time to stalk Tam on social media? I swear, you’re becoming a Tambourine fangirl right before my eyes. It’s disturbing.”

My mouth gapes open, and Joules’ shoulders stiffen in preparation for a smack. I don’t hit him though. No. For as hard as I want to smack him, I’ll do it later, when he isn’t driving.

“Like you’re not a premium member of Persephone’s Court,” I retort, referencing Kaycee’s fan club. Tam went the obvious route, with the Tambourines. Sort of like ENHYPEN with their fan club, ENGENE. Kaycee chose something a little more fun, like (G)I-DLE did with their fan group, Neverland. “She’s been wearing your hoodie all week, Joules. And you say nothing happened between you? I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely lying to you, just not about that. Oh, shit, an In-N-Out.” Joules yanks the wheel toward the exit, and I cringe, but as usual, we get there safely. I’m telling you, my brother would slit his own throat before he’d ever cause me any harm.

That comment about lying though … I file that away. I’ll grill him about it later.

We eschew the drive-thru. As usual, In-N-Out has a ten-mile-long line. We go inside instead, stretch our legs, use the bathroom. Over a basket of fries and a cheeseburger, I text Tam back.

Selling popcorn—hopefully not dressed like popcorn. But then, you never know.

Tam responds with a skull emoji which is a good sign.

I put my phone down and focus on my food for a while before I decide to text him again.

That song, about your dad, it’s beautiful. I’m sorry that I said your music was heartless. I cried when I read the lyrics over.

I hesitate briefly before hitting send, but Joules steals my phone and sends it for me. Then he snaps a photo of me with several fries sticking out of my mouth and sends that, too.

“You mother—” I don’t finish that curse because there are way too many little kids present, but I do launch myself out of my chair and try to wrestle my phone back from my brother. With a laugh, he tosses it back to me, and I barely catch it before it hits the floor.

What sort of weirdo stuffs ten fries into their mouth all at once? My sister.

That’s what the text says. And the photo of me is … well, it’s not flattering. I try to unsend them both, exhaling in relief when they’re gone from my screen.

But then I get another text from Tam.

I eat fries like that, too. Stuff on, my friend. Also, you have ketchup on your shirt.

I look down to see that I do, indeed, have about three large dollops of red on my white tee.

“Crap.”

“Do you have a hole in your chin or something?” Joules snorts as he slumps back into his own seat. I spot a drop of yellow mustard on his black hoodie, and grin. I snatch his phone before he can stop me—I have my fingerprints saved into his biometrics, so it’s easy to unlock—and I send a picture of that to Miss Kaycee Quinn.

“Do you want to die before the curse kills you?” Joules growls at me as he snags his phone back. Unlike me, he doesn’t try to unsend the picture. He just types out a bunch of nonsense and sends that instead. When he gets a response from Kaycee, I try to peep at his phone, but he won’t let me see it.

“I’ll just unlock your phone and go through all your personal shit while you’re asleep,” I retort, and he scowls at me, trying to steal my fries. I get them back, but not before losing at least a dozen of them to his greedy fingers.

“Fine. Go ahead. I already went through yours last night. You’re boring nowadays, you know that? Tam this and Tam that.”

“Yeah, well you watch hentai on your phone,” I retort, and then Joules is stealing my basket of fries again and shoving the remainder into his mouth before he stands up. He smiles with his mouth closed, chewing my fries and glaring at me. He swallows and then smirks, like the villain that he is.

“Let’s go. We have four hours left to drive, and we’re both working long shifts tomorrow.”

“I hate you,” I reply, but that’s not true, and we both know it.

Joules snatches up the spare basket of fries and hamburger that we bought for Joe. It’s like an offering that we leave at the edge of the table. When we climb into the car with it, we both share the food equally, and we don’t tease each other anymore. We don’t listen to music.

All we do is remember, because remembering is all that we have left.

112 bobas left until we both die …

My newest manager is younger than me by at least three years, passing over the hat that I’m supposed to wear with a very visible grimace.

“Sorry,” she tells me as I stare down at the hideous monstrosity in my hand.

Today’s outfit consists of a red and white striped button-down, red pants, and black shoes. I get to wear a square hat—also red and white—with a big yellow puff coming out of the top that’s supposed to be popcorn. I am wearing a popcorn box on my head. Only, it doesn’t look like popcorn, more like a poodle with a bad haircut.

“How much am I getting paid?” I ask, but not because I’m unaware. I was trying to be funny.

“Minimum wage,” the girl replies, completely deadpan.

“Right.” No sense of humor in this girl. I nod and put the hat on.

At least it’s substantially warmer tonight than it was when I was hawking hot dogs. Also, I sample the goods right away this time and find that the popcorn is surprisingly tasty. That’s a huge relief.

Oh, and I’m not wearing lingerie underneath. Double bonus.

I stand outside on the front walk, holding a large box in front of me with a strap that goes around my shoulders and back. I feel like a cigarette girl in the 1920s, hawking smokes to the local bar crowd. That sounds more glamorous than this though, selling popcorn to Tambourines, some of whom are weeping at the thought of seeing Tam in concert.

If they only knew that I spent a whole hour with him at a boba shop, that he bought me boba, that I have his real number. I smile at every single customer, refilling my box when it empties, giving away popcorn for free when it gets cold.

A guy with a mask shuffles up to me before the show.

I recognize that it’s Tam right away. He’s basically Clark Kent right now, thinking that a pair of glasses and a new hair-do makes him unrecognizable as Superman.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” I warn him, and he startles, reaching up with two fingers to tug his mask over his lips. His eyes dart around in search of a crazed horde, but we’re safe for now. Nobody in their right mind would expect Tam Eyre to be on the sidewalk in front of the venue just an hour before the show.

“Yeah, well. You said popcorn, and I was hungry.” He reaches out for my hand, and I let him take it. His fingers are rougher than I imagined they’d be, calloused and well-used. From playing an instrument maybe? From dancing? A lot of his dance moves require getting on the ground, using his hands to move his body across the stage. Who knows?

I look up, his hand still pressed over mine, and I smile.

“Well, sir, for the generous donation of twenty bucks, you may pick one of four flavors.” I draw my hand back and stuff the cash into my apron pocket. “Caramel, kettle corn, butter, or cheese. Twenty-dollars buys you exactly one bucket.” I lift my chin proudly, gesturing at my wares.

Tam, his face mask pulled down to chin-diaper status, gapes at me.

“One bucket for twenty bucks? I thought I was tipping you well.” He digs more money out of his pocket and tries to give it to me, but I’m laughing so hard now that I can’t even take it.

“What did you expect, Tom? It’s concert popcorn.”

Tam gives me a hard look.

“Did you see Jacob’s reaction when I called him Jake? I’m about to have a similar reaction to the name Tom.”

“Should I call you something else?” I ask earnestly, batting my lashes at him. “Maybe … Tam Eyre?”

He cringes, and looks around again, but everyone and their grandmother (in some cases, literally, there are a lot of older ladies in the crowd) is talking about Tam Eyre. Nobody looks or cares. Just a woman in a popcorn hat and a man in a baseball cap and a face mask laughing together.

“Fine. Tom it is.” Tam bends down to peer at the popcorn selection, and then he selects the kettle corn. Nice. That would’ve been my choice, too. He munches on it as he stands there, studying me. “This is … a nice outfit.”

I narrow my eyes at him, and he smirks at me.

“Yeah, my boss told me that I should be a cigarette girl, but like, for popcorn.” I do a little twirl, and my popcorn box goes with me. “I told her that cigarette girls looked cute, so that wasn’t going to be a possibility.”

“I think you look cute,” Tam tells me, and I feel a strange warmth spread through me that I don’t want to acknowledge. I should acknowledge it. I need to acknowledge it, but I don’t want to be like everyone else. Every woman in this crowd of fifty-thousand probably finds Tam attractive and would sleep with him if she were single and given the chance. I … I should behave differently around him, shouldn’t I? “For a poodle.”

“Aww.” I pat my chest and roll my eyes. “Thank you very much, Sir Tom. Do you fully appreciate that I didn’t get to choose my outfit today? I’m getting paid minimum wage to be humiliated.”

Tam smiles at me, holding out his popcorn as an offering. I shake my head. I’ve had about three buckets worth already, and I’m stuffed. He draws it back toward his chest and scoops up another handful, leaning his head back and tossing about twenty popcorn puffs into his mouth. I lift a brow. Guess he was telling the truth about the French fry thing.

“You weren’t getting paid to wear ketchup on your shirt, were you?” he asks me, and I reach out and slap his arm on instinct. Daniel darts forward out of the crowd, and Tam lifts his hand up to stop him, like a medieval prince. I worry for a minute that he’s going to run away again, but Tam just grins at me. “Well, were you?” he inquires as Daniel melts back into the shadows. The man is scary good at his job. And those gray eyes? I shiver. Maria would probably be into him. Hell, maybe he can be her Match and we can kill two birds with one stone?

Also … not a great phrase to use in reference to the curse. That’s what it does, it takes two beautiful birds with wings spread wide, ready to fly, and it kills them both with a single wallop. I exhale, and Tam notices the shift in my mood the way he did at the boba shop.

I don’t let him bring it up. I won’t talk about Joe right now.

“Joules sent that shit. I didn’t … I would never …” I laugh and then reach out, stealing some of Tam’s popcorn anyway. He stares down at my hand, as if mesmerized by my casual behavior, and then looks back up at me.

“I figured, when he wrote my sister at the end of the message.”

“Well, aren’t you a smart one?” I retort, stealing more of his popcorn. Fine, I lied. I could eat. When Tam looks down at my hand again, I try to play it off as a joke. “You’re probably on a diet, right? I bet you’re not even allowed to eat this.”

“How much money do you want to put down on that? Because you’d be right about it.” He hands the bucket over to me, and I take it in surprise. “I’ve gotta go. Stay safe out here, okay?”

I nod as Tam tugs his face mask up, turning and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. When he’s ‘in disguise’ he walks with an exaggerated hunch, like he’s seen too many movies and thinks this is how people who are in disguise are supposed to walk.

It only makes him more obvious; I see people turning to stare at him. Not because he’s Tam Eyre, but because he looks like a weirdo.

I chuckle and finish off the popcorn, tossing the bucket, and returning to my regularly scheduled program.

One thought percolates as I finish the rest of my shift: that was not a meet-cute. Tam did not come outside to buy popcorn and then happen to run into me. He came out to see me and happened to buy popcorn.

That’s enough to keep my mood lifted until I get off work, and then leave to grab Joules.

Guess where we’re meeting our cousin, Maria?

Damn right.

A bubble tea shop.

Maria spits lavender milk tea all over herself when she hears about my interaction with Tam.

“Crap, crap, crap,” she grumbles, swiping haphazardly at it with a napkin. She gives up pretty quick, and Joules rolls his eyes at her. Apparently, the Frost family is damned on two fronts: cursed alongside our Matches, and very messy eaters. “This is good, right? This sounds good. I need to call your mom.” She starts to reach for her phone and both Joules and I slam our palms down on top of hers. I end up sandwiched in the middle, cursing because Joules is way too strong for his own good.

I yank my hand back and rub it while I glare at him.

“Don’t you dare call my mom,” he warns her, because we both know that if Maria calls Mom, they’ll end up talking for an hour—at least. Maria and my mother are best friends. They share family gossip with one another at least twice a day. “I’ll call her later tonight to give her an update. Buying one bucket of popcorn does not a curse break.”

“This is …” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Tam Eyre we’re talking about.” I sip on my oolong milk tea with pudding, and smile at the shop’s ridiculous catchphrase on the side of my cup. It just says Flavor and Fashion with a vaguely humanish silhouette with anime eyes. “He came out to talk to me, Joules, not to buy popcorn. That’s a big deal.”

“He’s a fuckhead. I’m only letting him date you because of the curse. Otherwise, I’d never give my blessing.”

“Well, luckily it’s not 1822, and I don’t need your blessing.” I suck on my straw, and chew on the end a little, just to annoy Joules. He hates that.

“You might not need it, but you clearly want it.” He scoffs at me, so I steal his tea when I finish mine. He doesn’t put up a fight; he lets me have it. Sometimes, he orders a flavor he doesn’t even like in anticipation of me taking it from me. He really is the perfect big brother. “After you break the curse, break him next. I mean, break up with him.”

I ignore Joules. Not once in the history of the Frost family has anyone ever broken up with their Match. Not once has a Match ever cheated or left them either. I don’t know if that makes them soulmates, or if it just makes them cursed. Doesn’t matter. Either I’m dead or I’m … going to marry Tam Eyre?

“Are you blushing?” Joules asks, arms crossed, leaning in and getting in my face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Maria slams her drink down on the table, and tea spurts up out of the straw. She cringes, but she doesn’t stop in her quest to defend me from Joules.

“It’s normal for a person to fall in love with their Match; everyone in our family does. Even Aunt Lisa.” Maria sniffs, and Joules shakes his head with a low, angry laugh. He closes his eyes as the memory hits. It’s not a good one. Aunt Lisa was in love with her ex-husband. I’m not saying she isn’t in love with her Match—her current husband—but it broke her heart to do what she did. She was never the same after. She definitely isn’t the same now. Who would be, after losing a child?

“I am not in love with Tam,” I tell them both, and it’s true. I’m not. He’s a handsome guy, but that’s pretty much all I know. His being handsome isn’t going to make me fall in love. He can dance, sing, act, whatever, and I still won’t fall in love with him. I need something real, and I’m afraid that’s going to be my downfall here. I’m too cynical.

“You’re too cynical,” Maria says, as if she’s just read my mind. “Try to relax into it. Tam is your soulmate, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”

“Matches are not necessarily soulmates,” Joules growls, eyes still closed, perched in his chair like a statue.

“I’m getting to know him.” I shrug my shoulders, sipping on Joules’ matcha milk tea with tapioca pearls. “What else can I do? He’s so … wary. If I look at him wrong, he might never speak to me again. I’m just going to keep doing what I’m—”

I freeze when my phone dings with a notification, whipping it out of my pocket to read it.

It’s Tam.

Joules snatches it out of my hand before I can read it.

“Please tell me that your next job involves wearing a giant French fry costume. I’d pay money for that.” Joules scoffs again and lowers the phone, giving me a nasty look. “He’s not talking to you like a woman; he’s talking to you like a friend.”

“So?” I snap back, holding out my hand for my phone. Joules ignores me and types in a message that I know is going to be bad. I’d try to take my phone, but it’s not worth risking the spilling of the boba.

The Frost emergency fund is running low, and I refuse to let anyone in my family mortgage their house because of me. I can’t afford to order more than one bubble tea a day. Mostly, I’ve been paying for them with my earnings from my own jobs. I should probably cut the boba out, but I might die. I need my sunshine in a cup to get me through this.

“Friend-zoned?” Maria whispers, shaking her head. She starts muttering in Spanish, but I ignore her. I don’t believe in stupid things like friend-zones. Just another dumb word for I like this person, but if they don’t want to fuck me then I’m being punished, wah. If Tam sees me as a friend, that’s a good thing.

My phone buzzes again, and Joules smirks. He taps out another response for me.

“Do you want to woo Tam on your own then? Give me the phone, Joules.”

“If I were you, I’d have already slept with him,” Joules retorts, and Maria giggles. I punch my brother in the arm, but he ignores me.

“Like you’ve slept with Kaycee Quinn?” I shoot back, and he smirks like the asshole that he is.

“She’s been wearing my hoodie all week, remember? She’s not even my Match, and I’m doing a better job than you.” Joules tosses my phone onto the table and then reaches out to pinch my cheek. “Do better, Lake.”

“Screw you.” I pick up my phone, and I nearly choke on a boba.

There’s Tam’s first message … and then there’s this monstrosity, courtesy of Joules.

Tam: Please tell me that your next job involves wearing a giant French fry costume. I’d pay money for that.

From my phone: Would you pay more if I wore lingerie underneath it again? *skull emoji* JK. That was dumb. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to wear that stuff without actual clothes over the top. I’m losing my mind over all these crappy jobs. Only possible explanation.

I slam my phone on the table a little too hard and give Joules a look.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” My phone pings again, and Joules raises a brow, lifting up a hand so that Maria can give him a high five. “You both suck.”

I keep reading.

Tam: Hah. Don’t beat yourself up over that. We’ve all accidentally worn lace garters and thigh-highs under our hot dog costumes. *hot dog emoji*

I blink in shock. Holy crap. Is … is he flirting? I hope he’s not. He’s dating Kaycee, and that would be … I could never love a man who cheats on his girlfriend.

“They’re not actually dating,” Joules explains, as if he, too, can read my mind. It’s another universal Frost family trait. We’re all stupid-expressive with our faces, and we all know each other way too well to miss a single cue.

“What are you even talking about?” I ask as I scroll down to the next message.

From my phone: I’m cleaning toilets at my next job. Tell your fans not to clog them up. I’m wearing that damn lingerie under my swamp-green jumpsuit. One of my guy friends from back home is coming to visit, and he might actually want to see it. LOL.

I almost kill Joules. Seriously. I am this close.

“The curse’ll get you eventually,” I growl at him as he laughs. “Now please explain what you mean by not actually dating. They post couple photos basically every day, dance the tango together every night, and go on viral video dates. They’re dating, Joules.”

“They’ve only kissed on set, never in private. They haven’t slept together.” Joules shrugs one shoulder. “If that’s not telling, I don’t know what is.”

“How do you even know that?” I demand, resisting the urge to read the next few messages. Do I even want to see what else Joules sent to Tam?

“Drunk Kaycee is talkative. She muttered all sorts of shit in the taxi on the way back to the hotel the other night.” Joules slants a sly glance my way, blue eyes sparkling. “I’ve seen the way she acts around Tam; he’s not her type. And vice versa. There isn’t an ounce of romantic or sexual tension between them.”

“Oh, Lynn would slap you if she heard you say that,” Maria whispers, referencing our very enthusiastic Tambourine fangirl cousin who’s joining us next week. Thank God for that. I’ve been doing my best to touch up my own roots, but it’s not easy. I need Lynn’s expertise to keep my sea green hair looking fancy. “She says she’s worried for you because she thinks Tam and Kaycee are soulmates. You have to admit: they are fire onstage. And they look like they genuinely like each other when they go on their dates.”

“Their very public, livestreamed dates,” Joules emphasizes, slapping one hand into the other for emphasis. “I’m telling you: they are not attached at the hip. Tam already likes you better. Take solace in that.”

“He—” I don’t finish my sentence. It’s too good to be true. I can’t let myself believe that. I have to tackle this as if Tam and Kaycee are in love with one another. “Contract dating or no, he better not make a move on me before he breaks up with her.”

“Or she breaks up with him,” Joules adds mysteriously.

I ignore him to read the other texts.

Tam: If you don’t love me, we both die. What happened to that? Also, good luck with your friend from college. He sounds cool. *crossed fingers emoji*

“Joules,” I grind out, quickly tapping out another reply. I can’t let Joules see this message. He doesn’t know that I’ve spilled the beans about the curse to Tam. He can’t know. That’ll piss him off something fierce.

That was my stupid brother again. Last two messages. Pay them no mind. He’s crazy.

There’s a long pause there where I start to panic, but then Tam messages me back.

Tam: I figured as much. Tell him to give you your phone back. He believes in the curse that much, huh?

Me: He’s just trying to help me. He’s worried.

I wait with bated breath, the boba shop and Maria and even Joules disappearing until it’s just me and my phone. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Tam: Don’t be. I’ll show you: there’s no such thing as a curse. One year from now, we’ll both still be here, and your family can relax.

I know that Tam doesn’t believe me. He’s basically saying wait it out and this is obviously bullshit, so clearly you won’t die. But that’s okay. Just like my friends humor me, all I need from Tam is this, a chance, an opportunity, an opening.

I delete all of the texts that mention the curse before responding.

Me: But also, I really am cleaning toilets at your next concert. I won’t wear lingerie (maybe not ever again in my whole life) so please ask the crowd not to clog anything. Please also ask the men to aim correctly in the urinals. Thank you, Sir Tom. P.S. the popcorn was delicious

Joules leans over to peer at my last message, and then cocks a brow.

“Seriously? No wonder he only sees you as a friend.”

But then the final message of the night comes in, and I smirk knowingly, shaking my phone in my brother’s face.

“Do you doubt me now, huh?” I ask as Joules steals it back from me and reads it.

Tam: oh, you just wait. I really will tell them that over the mic. You’re welcome for the popcorn. P.S. never say never! Have fun with your college friend.

“He’s jealous—even if he doesn’t know it,” Joules announces, and Maria and I both laugh. “Seriously. I’m a guy, and I know how guys think. He’s jealous. Just wait.”

“Whatever you say, Joules.” I kiss my brother on the cheek, stand up, and head for the door whistling “I Want to See You (Dad)” under my breath.