Rent a Boyfriend - Gloria Chao Page 0,57

the first store beside them. Silky Fabrics. A store they would never go into otherwise.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I hadn’t realized my heart could break all over again.

Outside MIT’s financial aid office, I let out a breath and watched the water molecules condense before my eyes. As the puff of fog drifted languidly, I wished I could float away with it and leave everything behind.

Seeing my parents had been a wake-up call to get my shit together. And not only were my emotions in pieces, but so were my finances. Because I was under eighteen and there was no “my Chinese parents disowned me” check box on the form, I would have to go to court to become emancipated. My parents would probably contest, it would be a long process, and it “just wasn’t a viable option,” according to the gray-haired financial-aid lady with coffee-stained teeth.

Xing had offered to help me, but I hoped to keep him out of it. He had enough parental-related burdens without adding mine. And for all I knew, he was still paying our parents back for college and med school.

Instead of secrets, my dumpling was now stuffed with fear and way too much responsibility. And it was already exploding, even without squeezing.

An unfamiliar voice called out my name. I peered up at a handsome male stranger who looked a few years older than me. My eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“I’m Eugene.”

Oh, Eugene. My preapproved Taiwanese knight. I shouldn’t have been surprised—Harvard and MIT students frequented each other’s campuses—but it just never occurred to me that I would one day put a face to the dreaded name.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, but despite my best efforts, my tone implied the opposite. “How’d you recognize me?”

“My mom showed me a picture. Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“Oh, you heard?” Maybe I was Ying-Na 2.0 already.

“Yeah. My mom’s a bit panicked that your mom will still try to set us up despite everything. Because of your . . . situation . . . she’s finally gotten off my back about our meeting. Good for us, right?”

I tried not to be offended since I never had any interest in him either. But it was hard not to be a little stung by his rejection, especially now that we’d met. “Guess I’m not good enough for you anymore,” I joked. “I won’t be the obedient Chinese wife she wants for you.”

He laughed, a little mocking and a lot haughty. “Yeah, I’m not going down that road. She’ll learn eventually.”

“How can you say that so confidently? Won’t she freak out and guilt you or cut you off until you do what they want?”

Eugene squinted at me like I was an alien. “I’m their only son. I’ll get my way eventually. I just have to wait them out.”

“Lucky,” I mumbled.

“It was nice to meet you, Mei. Maybe in another life we could’ve been friends, but I have different taste in women than my mother.”

I watched as he disappeared from view (and my life), thankful I wasn’t going to be Mrs. Huang in the future. Or Dr. Huang to his Dr. Huang.

Voicemail from Yilong

Mei! You better not go to Xing’s wedding. Nǎinai has spent the last four years crying over him, and if you go, you’ll break what’s left of her heart. Then it will be that much harder to fix this mess you’ve created. Stop diving into the fire pit headfirst!

CHAPTER 21

THE END

WEDDING DAY.

I showered first since that seemed like the normal thing to do before a date, especially for a sweat-prone individual. I snuck some of Nicolette’s fancy soap, which smelled like flirtation, laughing to myself that she could borrow my fifty-cent soap bar anytime. I’d make it up to her later somehow.

Then I combed through my closet. Too frayed. Too tight. Too loose. Too bedazzled. The mountain of clothes on my bed grew with each rejection, but I eventually found a rose-colored dress I didn’t hate. And despite the storm of emotions brewing in my chest, today was a celebration; red was the appropriate color.

I stared at the mirror, trying to see past the fingerprints Nicolette had left behind. Instead of the frustration (and fear of chlamydia) I used to feel, the smudges now made me smile (and it wasn’t just because I was pretty sure she was cured). I could picture her leaning one palm against the mirror for leverage as she plucked her eyebrows, put on eyeliner, checked