Racing to You ✓

27 | turntables

The worst days of finals were over, but unfortunately for me, I didn't have a chance to recover at all before getting devastated all over again. 

I wearily stared at the email on my phone, subconsciously skimming over it for the umpteenth time. 

Makua snapped his fingers in front of me. "Hello? Keiki, you there?" 

I blinked away the dread that had overtaken me, and forced a smile. "Sorry?" 

"Do you want to get hot chocolate?" Māmā asked, but then peered closer at me. "Hey. What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," I replied automatically. 

Makua rolled his eyes teasingly. "When a girl says that, we know that means something's wrong." 

I sighed. "I didn't get a part I really wanted. It was just a coming-of-age kind of film, and I'm sure there'll be loads more of opportunities like this one, but I really liked the lead girl's character."

"You're graduating soon, and you'll be able to commit to more auditions," Makua consoled. "You're competing against full-time child actors as of now." 

Māmā tried to shrug nonchalantly, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. "Maybe they were just looking for something different." 

"Probably," Makua quickly piped up. "Have a rest, keiki. So you have energy to go even further."

My parents had worked hard to establish themselves where they were in life right now, and I would always be thankful for the stepping stones they provided me -- especially since I actually wanted to pursue the same field -- so I truly wanted to utilise them so they didn't go to waste. 

I managed a smile. "I might go for a drive." 

"Drive safely, don't be back too late," Māmā said. 

It was already closing time at the diner, but for some reason, I still followed the instinctive pull towards it. About ten minutes later, I ended up standing at the front door -- to my luck, the main lights were still switched on. There was a server mopping the floors, cleaning up from the day. 

I plastered the biggest smile I could manage before stepping inside. "Hi!" 

Deandre paused mopping the floor and wiped his brow. "Hey."

My brain scrambled for something to say. "I'm sorry I'm late. Later than usual, anyway."

He arched an eyebrow. "You don't have to apologise. I can still make your milkshake for you, if you want." 

My throat dried. "Yes please." 

I sat in my usual booth and stared out of the window, until he appeared in my peripheral vision with the drink. 

He had a slight frown on his face when he noticed I poked around with my straw. "You alright?" 

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I squeaked in a way too high-pitched tone. 

His brows knitted together even more deeply. "You're quiet. You're never this quiet." 

The doubt in his eyes was the final straw of the build-up from the day, and I let go of my resolve.

"Ah shit, I'm sorry," he rushed to get out before gathering some napkins for me. 

"D-don't be," I hiccuped, furiously wiping away the embarrassing tears. "I don't know why I'm so dramatic." 

The smallest of smiles appeared on his lips. "Maybe because you're a theatre kid?"

I barked a short laugh. "How ironic, because I didn't get a part I worked really hard for--" 

I broke off, because he had reached towards my face with a napkin. He paused mid-air, dark eyes flickering to mine. "Sorry -- um, may I?" 

I held my breath but nodded, and in the gentlest of ways, he dabbed my cheek dry. It nearly made me forget why I was crying in the first place. My eyes fluttered close, feeling the light pressure of his fingers through the napkin. "I managed to hold it in the entire day at school. Then from my parents. It's always toughest with them, because they've worked so hard to get where they are, and I just want to make the most out of what I can with the privileged cards I'm already dealt with. It's not just them pressuring me of course, it's also me, but..." 

He paused, then slowly pulled away to look at me. "I'm sorry, I'm not really good with words, but I can listen." 

In spite of the situation, I smiled sincerely at him. "Thank you. That's all I need right now, honestly. I usually have a dramatic cry then get over it soon. I don't know how to explain it, but you're just a steady presence." 

He snorted. "That's ironic, given how unstable I actually am." 

My smile widened. "I realised I ground myself better when you're around. Maybe because theatre is such a bubble of a world, that you remind me of how big the rest of the world really is. How many people that may be upset by different sorts of rejection, in this very moment."

His stare held mine. "It doesn't necessarily mean me specifically, though. You just needed someone with a different perspective. Like Theo, or Sasha." 

"Maybe," I conceded. "But you're also a good listener. Not that Theo and Sasha don't listen to me -- it's just that Theo would read too much into it and scare me with some existential crisis thing, and Sasha would probably try to find a solution. Now that I'm voicing all these things aloud, I'm realising how ridiculous I'm being. I don't want shallow sympathy, don't want deep empathy, don't want to hear words of support, don't want practical reasonings."

"Perhaps you just needed someone to listen," he offered. "That's nothing special either. It could come from anyone. Not me."

"And I've met plenty of people," I argued. "But do I go looking for them? No. I go looking for you." 

I snapped my mouth shut, suddenly embarrassed by my sudden confession. Heat warmed his cheeks as well as he averted his gaze. 

I leapt to my feet abruptly and shuffled out of the booth, brushing past him. It was enough awkwardness for one day. "Alright, thanks for listening tonight. I better get home before my parents harass my phone--" 

He grabbed my hand before I could rush towards the door. I froze, all thoughts in my head screeching to a halt. "Lei, hold on." 

With my heart pounding in my ears, I slowly turned to face him. He didn't give me time to process how he stepped closer to me before kissing my forehead lightly. 

I let out a soft gasp. He shuffled back with a small smile, dimples making a brief appearance, as I continued to gape at him. "A thank you kiss. I learnt from the best." 

I bit my lip, unable to fight my grin. "Well, glad to be of service." 

His eyes flickered down to my lips and darkened. On impulse, I blurted, "You can kiss me, you know." 

That seemed to break the internal dilemma he was fighting. He swallowed. "I don't really know how to." 

"Like this, silly," I chuckled, placing my hands at the back of his neck to balance myself as I tip-toed to meet his lips. They pillowed against mine as I kissed him tenderly, noticing how his arms wrapped around my back to steady me. Slowly, he angled his head for better access and started pressing his lips back to mine. 

We parted for breath, both of us flushed from emotion. When he opened his eyes, they were sparkling, completely open and unguarded. I had the urge to reassure him, "For your information, that was the first time I've ever kissed that meaningfully. So this can count as both of our first real kisses." 

He dipped his head with a smile, then tightened my jacket around my shoulders and escorted me home.