those years between us

[19] SUGARCOAT

  I DIDN'T WAKE up until nearly noon the next day, and despite the lack of alcohol I'd inhaled, my body still felt like complete crap. The lack of sleep, probably, even though technically speaking I'd at least gotten six or seven hours.

  My parents raised one brow as I pulled myself out of my bedroom. "Wow, look at Yam-yuet all grown up now."

  "It's just a sometimes thing," I grumbled. "God, I am exhausted."

  "Maybe because you come home so late," my mother huffed. "Earlier next time, you know? You come home with Orion?"

  "Yeah, but he was drunk out of his mind."

  "That's not good," my father said, frowning. "Hope A'Ip and his wife give him some honey water. Or he's not going to be feeling very well today."

  I hoped he didn't feel well enough today. Because knowing him he'd come to talk to me eventually—unless he'd completely forgotten what happened last night, which seemed difficult and rather unlikely. He'd remember at least some fragments. And I wanted to push back that inevitable as soon as possible.

  I was not ready to talk to him. I knew it was inevitable and we would have to speak about it eventually, but I'm hoping that by that time I was able to formulate a proper answer. Instead of standing there like an idiot while looking at him. At least, that was the plan. Most of my plans tended to fail when it came to Orion, but that didn't mean I ever stopped trying.

  Orion Ip was just an anomaly in my life. One bit that didn't fit into anything else. Something I couldn't explain, couldn't understand at all. I didn't get it. I didn't understand how I felt, and sometimes I tried to sit there and dissect why I loved him at all. Somehow, despite the lack of reasoning, which was usually enough to convince me away from a course of action, it didn't work for him. Maybe it just wasn't how love worked.

  I didn't do much. I had a quick brunch and retired to my room, watching videos on Youtube and trying to forget about yesterday night. I texted Cami but she didn't reply—probably still asleep. Wouldn't be asleep if she wasn't going to wake until one or two in the afternoon, if I must be honest. She did it sometimes on the weekend when she slept late. I couldn't. Noon was my absolute limit, or I'd just feel like I was wasting too much time.

  I didn't have much else to do. Sitting down on my bed, I dug up an old book from my bookshelf and started flipping through, trying to jot my memory about its contents. I'd stopped reading physical books a long time ago—basically impossible, especially since I'd lived in a dorm for so many years in my life. There was hardly enough space, and I didn't feel like bringing around a couple books every time I flew to and from England.

  And then: a text on my phone. The slightest buzz from the device I'd put beside me. I laid my book down and glanced down.

  Orion: hey, are you home right now?

  I stared at it, my mind suddenly blank. What had I planned to do again? If he did come looking for me? I suddenly couldn't remember. There was this urge to just type yes, see what he wanted, but then rationality entered me again. Right. No. No. No. I didn't know what to say to him right now.

  I waited a minute.

  Two minutes.

  I glanced out of my window for a while, trying to make the minutes past faster so it wouldn't look like I instantly responded, but not late enough for it to seem improbable and impolite either.

  Finally, after six minutes, I picked up my phone.

  I'm outside rn.

  I lied. But what else was I supposed to say? Yes, so he'd immediately come over and talk to me and have a conversation I didn't want to be hearing right now? I didn't want my illusion to break just yet. I just wanted this perfect little dream space, this perfect little bubble to continue on just for a while.