Dating Makes Perfect - Pintip Dunn Page 0,61
are spice mixtures made from chilies, garlic, shallots, lime juice, and either shrimp or fish paste. Mama’s horrified that my sisters are eating the Thai equivalent of rice and condiments, I can tell. But the last time she pointed this out, the conversation ended with Bunny picking up a container of dried chilies and pouring it straight into her mouth.
“So,” Mama chirps instead. “Any marriageable prospects?”
Ari starts choking on her rice, and Bunny whacks her on the back. I don’t know why my sister’s surprised. I mean, we’ve already covered their classes, sleep patterns, and clothes. (Mama’s convinced the twins aren’t dressed warmly enough, even though they’re wearing leggings and a tee, just like me, and there’s only a four-degree temperature difference between Chicago and St. Louis.) We were bound to get to Mama’s favorite subject sooner or later.
Ari recovers, and the twins exchange one of their famous looks. My heart gives a swift, sharp pang. Even on the best days, it’s hard enough to be a spare to their pair. But the distance is only reinforced when we’re three hundred miles apart.
“Yes, Mama,” Bunny says dryly. “I met a guy last night at a frat party. First name, Brian. Never got around to a last name. Not sure about marriageable, but he is a very good kisser.” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Bunny!” Mama gasps. “Show a little respect. You may be in college now, and Papa may blurt out whatever pops into his mind. But that doesn’t mean you have to.”
“You are narrowing the blood vessels in your mother’s heart,” Papa says firmly. Typical Papa. He can’t just refer to a heart attack like a regular person.
“Mama, she’s kidding.” Ari shoves her twin in the shoulder, and Bunny pushes her back. My foot kicks forlornly underneath the table, but there’s no ankle for me to connect with.
“We attended no such party last night,” Ari continues. “In fact, we stayed home and studied. Isn’t that right, Winnie? Didn’t I spend an hour quizzing you on biology?” She finds my gaze through the screen and winks.
We did talk for an hour last night—but our conversation consisted of my sisters shrieking about Mat kissing me. “Finally,” Bunny pronounced, while Ari concluded, “Very impressive, little sister.”
“Did you wink?” Mama demands.
Ari rearranges her smirk into a neutral expression. “Huh?”
“You winked just now,” Mama says. “At Winnie. What does that mean? Are you not telling us the truth?”
“Um. Pretty sure I had dust in my eye.” Ari winks again.
“There!” Mama cries. “I saw it again.” She turns to Papa, who is painstakingly separating the bones from his fish. “Papa. The girls are winking at each other.”
“Better than sharing needles, I suppose,” he says.
Mama huffs out a breath. Her shoulders turn inward, as though the world—or, at least, her world—is banding against her.
“Come now, Mama,” Bunny cajoles. “You know how glitchy these video feeds are. I can assure you, there was no wink, no conspiracy, no plotting whatsoever.” She grins wickedly. “Unless you count me plotting how I’m going to see Brian again. I probably should’ve gotten his number, but we were busy doing…other things.”
Mama starts hyperventilating, and Papa abandons his fish to guide her head between her knees.
I take the opportunity to text my sisters under the table.
Me: Seriously, Bunny? Whatcha doing? If they keel over and die, I’m gonna have to dispose of their bodies. Maybe wait for this kind of talk until you’re home and can help me?
Bunny: Just setting the stage. If I’m outrageous enough, by the time Ari confesses, it won’t seem so shocking
Me: Confess what? Ari?!
No response appears for an unending minute. Finally:
Ari: I met someone
Me: WHAT? You couldn’t have mentioned this last night?
Ari: Last night was about you
Bunny: *snorts* Right. The truth is, she’s having a hard time telling the family
Me: Hey, I resent being grouped with the rents
Ari: Sorry, Winnie. Of course I’ll tell you. It’s just that this person is not exactly expected
I frown. Expected? What does that mean? It’s not like Mat is expected, either. Or is he?
“Are you texting under the table?” Mama asks.
I look up guiltily, tucking away my questions for Ari. “No?”
“This is Family Breakfast!” she exclaims. “That means you must give your family your full and undivided attention. Texting your friends is not a quality use of this time.”
Somehow, I don’t think explaining that I’m texting my sisters will make her feel any better. “Because breathing with your head between your knees is a quality use?”
“It was a bonding experience between your mother