the wee hours of the morning.
One downside to my secret hookups? Lying to my mom about what I did in London and what I do with my free nights now. And where I’ve taken Lemon. Thankfully, she’s bought the lie that I’ve made some new friends who are curious to see what owning a cat would be like and want to try it out before making a final decision.
Leaning out the window, I hand the baskets to the waiting customers and see the napkin dispenser that’s usually on the ledge is now missing. Looking up, I spot Callum leaning out of his food truck to hand off an order. Then he catches my eye and winks. I turn away quickly before anyone can see me smile.
The missing napkin dispenser is payback for when I swiped all the malt vinegar bottles from the ledge of his food truck yesterday. Despite our secret hookup arrangement, we still have appearances to keep up. After a couple weeks of acting civil to each other, we realized customers would eventually notice our sudden change in behavior—and probably post about it online. And if the Maui Food Festival organizer caught wind of my and Callum’s new arrangement, we’d both be disqualified from the contest. So every few days we resume some small-scale form of fake fighting. I adore it. It’s a whole new form of flirting between us.
Mom turns to hand me two orders of lumpia, pulling me back into the moment. She smooths her hand over the blue bandana she’s wearing as a makeshift hairnet. “So energized, anak.” She turns back to the counter to scoop an order of papaya salad. “I knew a vacation was a good idea. It really recharged your batteries. You’ve been in a good mood every day since you got back.”
If I don’t make direct eye contact, keep my hands busy, and speak in vague statements, I can get away with withholding the truth. But skirting the issue is all I can do. If she grabbed me by the shoulders, pinned me with her stare, and asked me what was really going on, I’d cave. I can’t look her in the eye and lie. So I don’t look at her at all.
Just then, Mrs. Tokushige comes to the window. “Nikki! How was your trip to London? You two have been so busy lately, I haven’t had the chance to ask.”
I smile while pretending to check on the silverware containers. “London was a lot of fun,” I say.
She pats my arm. “I’m so glad. You deserve some time away. Like your mom said, you work so hard.”
Mom perks up. “It’s good, too, that you’re going out more now that you’re back. Having hobbies, meeting people, it’s all so important.”
If only she knew what I’m actually doing when I tell her I’m headed out for the night. I nod, making a split second of eye contact with her before I spin away to wipe down the counter. Anything longer and I’ll break.
Mrs. Tokushige pulls Mom into a chat about the new thriller she’s reading for their book club. I leave to take out the garbage to the trash can, which sits equidistant behind both food trucks. I dump the bag and turn back to my truck, catching Callum’s eye as he leans out of his window to hand a customer their food.
The corner of his mouth darts up when he spots me. That familiar fire ignites within. It’s like I’m running around with some glorious sex-induced fever that leaves me giddy twenty-four seven.
I walk back to my truck and lean on the counter, sipping from my water bottle. My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from Callum.
How about something different tonight?
He sends a link and I click on it. It’s an advertisement for a masquerade-themed block party in Paia. I swipe through the photos and read the captions. A night of music, dancing in the street, and drinks.
My thumb hovers over my phone screen as I hesitate. Every time we’ve met up since returning to Maui, it’s been in private with no one else around, at either his place or mine. To show up in public together could pose a risk. If some food blogger or customer saw us together and it got back to the Maui Food Festival organizers, they could think we’re together and we’d lose our shot at the prize money. No way is it worth the risk.
I text him my concern, and he answers right away.
I have