This Is My Brain in Love - I. W. Gregorio Page 0,100

sliver of longing that’s resisting the undertow, a part that can’t bear to let Will go even when it seems to make sense to cut bait.

So I open it.

Ever the honors student, he’s turned his homework in early and even sent Dropbox links to a few of his favorite videos. It’s a short message, but every word seems to sharpen my loneliness.

There’s some amazing stuff here. Priya’s really talented! Some of my favorites are linked below. We should definitely try to make a video. Call me when you want to discuss?

When I hit reply to thank him for sending, I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s probably not going to matter, that my contract is null and void because I fouled up my interview. And even if I’d aced it, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Because… three days. I have three days to change my father’s mind about renewing the lease before Limp Noodle and his brothers come in and turn the place into a juice bar, or whatever kind of trendy thing they think will make them money.

Or maybe I should just give up.

I close my eyes and try to imagine what it would be like to fail. Would it be a relief to close A-Plus’s doors for the last time? Wouldn’t it be amazing to move to an apartment that doesn’t perpetually reek of sesame oil and garlic? What if Will decides to go to college wherever we end up. Maybe that will be our happy ending? I’d have to say good-bye to Priya, but she’d go on with her life. She has other friends. Jin-Jin and Miss Zhou would need to find new jobs. It would suck for Alan for a bit, but he’s always been adaptable. He is good at letting things slide off his back. Better than I am.

And me, I only have two years left before I graduate, anyway. I can do anything for two years.

Right?

My wall AC unit kicks on and a blast of cold air sends me burrowing under my covers. I curl into a ball and let myself drift off. My family will wake me up if they need me.

True to form, Alan comes knocking on my door just before five.

“What’d you say to Dad?” he asks me, kind of awestricken. “He is pissed.”

“I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know,” I say, brushing past Alan to go downstairs. Like last night, I stay in the kitchen to avoid Will up front. The times he does come back to ask about an order, I duck into the storage rooms or under the prep station to get one of the pots we store underneath.

Tuesdays aren’t particularly busy nights at A-Plus usually, but tonight we’re hopping. Seeing our team cook, churning through order after order, it’s like watching someone bailing out a ship that’s sprung a leak. There’s just no end.

I help out with cleanup just enough to not look like a slacker and then plead stomach cramps and retreat to my room. I can’t face my family even as I’m antsy enough to finally talk to someone. But when I call Priya her voice mail picks up after just a few rings. Did she really swipe me off? A couple of seconds later a text comes through:

cant talk rn, call you in 30?

I surf around a bit on the net, typing in searches like, “how can I break my lease,” and “legal to require two-year lease,” but nothing’s all that helpful. I bring up Will’s contact on my phone, and my finger hovers over his name for a moment, but I don’t hit the green button.

After about fifteen minutes I remember the bits of equipment that Priya left behind after our last shoot. Maybe I could drop her stuff off and talk to her IRL. Kill two birds with one stone. I need to get out of the house.

Alan is in his room playing a video game, and my parents are finishing up downstairs. It’s not that long before Amah takes a bathroom break that allows me to slip out the back door.

It’s a quick ten-minute bike ride to Priya’s house. It’s past rush hour, so the roads are clear, and it’s just about dusk so things are cooling down to bearable levels. I’m hardly sweating when I pull up to their development.

I skid to a halt when I reach their driveway, because Will’s Nissan Leaf is in it.

“What the…” I can only think of two reasons for him