Black Sheep

Chapter 6

It was past midnight but Ling wasn't tired. She was still buzzing from the dessert bar's launch and the confrontation with the Velez brothers. Or maybe it was a sugar high? While she waited for SJ and Dom to clean up and close the stall, they kept feeding her and Hera all sorts of desserts from their menu. She was starting to sympathize with Tita Emma's sugar issues, and Hera had tapped out and gone home an hour ago, telling her she knew a third wheel when she saw one.

She now sat in front of O-Beer the Counter, a craft beer stall on the second floor of Nomnom Commons, nursing a local ale. The vibe here was totally different–more chill, more adult than the busy first floor. She was looking over the open courtyard and the pretty reading nook when SJ joined her at her table, a container filled with rice and a couple of bottles of beer between his hands.

"You sure can hold a lot of stuff," she said.

"Big hands," he replied.

Her mind went to an absolutely filthy place. She gulped more beer to cool the heat rising from her neck, and only succeeded in making herself feel even more lightheaded than before.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes."

The big problem was that he was just...attractive. Too attractive. As a nascent bad boy in elementary school, he was cute but had a streak of danger, like one never knew if he could control his impulses. As a grown-up, the edges had been sanded down, but still there. He looked a little roughed up, and man, that was such a massive turn-on: the thought of a guy getting in and out of scrapes a little marked up. He looked like the type who would fight for her. And then cook for her right after.

She realized she'd sighed out loud, like the lovestruck triplets mooning over Gaston in Beauty and the Beast. "What do you have there?" she asked, hoping he hadn't noticed.

He opened the container and instantly her mouth watered. It was filled with steaming hot rice and fried little spheres of one of the best foods to ever exist: Bacolod's own chorizo manaloto.

"Oh my god, I love you," she blurted out.

"It's just a very late dinner, but sure. I love you too."

"No, I mean–"

"No taking back." He produced two pairs of cutlery and handed one to her. "Please, dig in. We always have a stash of these in the freezer. Dom bought some rice and we cooked a batch–we were both starving, and I figured you would be, too."

"A person can't live on dessert alone." She spooned some of the rice and crisp, savory chorizo into her mouth and moaned. "God, I missed that. No other chorizo comes close to this."

He grinned, delighted at her reaction. "I forgot how nice it is to watch you eat."

She covered her mouth while she chewed. "Oh no. Now I feel self-conscious."

"Don't be." He took her hand and lowered it. "See, I have this theory that my favorite people are good eaters. They'll try anything at least once–that means they're curious, with a streak of adventure. They let you know when something is good–they're appreciative, enthusiastic, and ready to share a bit about themselves to others."

Now that he was rhapsodizing about the way she ate, she felt a bit like a temptress. She took another bite and watched him watch her eat. "What else is in this theory of yours?"

"For you, in particular? The way you enjoy your food? The little sounds you make?" He licked his lips. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and laughed. "Sorry, forget I said that."

"No, SJ. What did you mean by that?"

It was his turn to look self-conscious as he got a strategic bite of dinner to avoid answering her question.