Rent a Boyfriend - Gloria Chao Page 0,51

it better.”

I faced him. “Do you ever wish we had parents like the ones in sitcoms? The ones who manage the perfect balance between discipline, trusting their child, and defending them? Ones who apologize?”

He let out a mix between a laugh and a grunt. “They don’t exist. It’ll be easier once you accept that.”

“Do you miss them?” My voice was as small as I felt.

“Every day.”

“Does it get easier?”

“Every day.”

The rest of the car ride was silent as I pressed my forehead to the window. The chill of the glass was refreshing, a contrast to the hot tears coursing down my cheeks.

That night, Nicolette’s ringing phone jolted me from sleep. As soon as I woke, the disownment was on my mind, having never left.

In the light of day (well, technically it was still night, but I had been asleep the past seven hours), I realized the disownment was just the tip of the Culture Gap Iceberg. That fight may have been small in the grand scheme of things, but it represented a whole lot more. There would always be another decision, bigger than the last, to fight about. And there was no compromising. I couldn’t become a semi-doctor or marry half of Eugene Huang or have part of a kid to please them.

There was no right or wrong here. No morality. Just two roads, leading in different directions but both ending in heartbreak. Life was, as I was finding out, Choose Your Own Adventure with most of the fun stripped away.

I didn’t move as Nicolette shut her phone off. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially her.

But she chose this moment to speak to me for the first time in who knows how long. “Hey, roomie.” I was going to feign sleep, maybe even fake snore, but then she said, “Stop pretending already. I know you’re up. You’re not doing that weird half-snore, half-gasp thing you do.”

I turned to glare at her and was met with a yelp.

“Holy shit, girl, what happened to you?”

I used my phone as a mirror. Tangled hair, puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks—my appearance reflected the mess I was inside. I threw a slipper at her, then immediately regretted it, not because it pathetically settled halfway between our beds, but because my slippers were so freaking dirty. As I broke out the sanitizer (yes, I keep some nearby at all times), I retorted, “At least I’m not a poster for the walk of shame.” Her smeared eyeliner and clumpy mascara were way worse than the bags under my eyes.

To my shock, Nicolette laughed—deep and jolly, not at all what I expected.

She sat up in bed. “Hello Kitty has claws!” Rude. Even if I did own maybe too much Hello Kitty apparel. “So? What happened? Gave it up for some guy only to have him dump you?”

I rolled over, facing the wall. “Not even close.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be worse than chlamydia.” Her voice wavered on the last word, and I wondered if her overconfident aura was just an act.

“Are you okay?” I asked, still staring at the wall. I didn’t want to embarrass her any further.

“Yes.” A pause. “I don’t know what you think of me, but it’s probably wrong, just so you know.”

“I don’t think anything about you, good or bad.”

“Flatter me more, please. I just mean . . .” Her breathing deepened and she tossed in her sheets. “I was kind of a nerd in high school . . . and . . . no one ever looked at me. Then I got here, and I was cool somehow. Guys wanted to talk to and hang out with me. So I did, with most of them because I thought, Hey, I’m young, may as well get to know everyone before committing. But then, before I knew it, I had a bit of a reputation. So I played the part. I don’t really know why.”

I rolled back, and we faced each other across the room from our recumbent positions in bed. If the Goddess of Confidence had insecurities, then, jeez . . . maybe I wasn’t as much of an outsider as I originally thought. “It makes sense. If you own it, then you’re less of a target. Except people will still find a way to make fun of you.”

She pulled her covers up to her chin. “You had a hard time in high school, too, huh?”

“Not just high school. Always. I wore neon leggings and sweatshirts with misspelled English for the first ten