Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating - Christina Lauren Page 0,24
adjust it, sidestepping him just as he’s about to take it. “Listen,” I tell him, “I plan on giving the best man’s speech at your wedding one day. This is no time to take chances.”
He laughs, leading me up the steps to a small porch filled with potted ferns and a tinkling wind chime.
The door is unlocked and Josh steps inside. “Appa?” he calls out, waving me in. “Umma?”—followed by a stream of words I don’t understand.
I trip on the sexual speed bump that is the sound of Josh speaking Korean, but my attention is immediately snagged by a voice from the other side of the house.
“Jimin-ah?”
“My mom,” he explains quietly, and proceeds to toe off his shoes and place them neatly just inside the door. “Umma,” he calls out, “I brought someone.”
I follow suit, managing to slip off my sandals just as an adorable dark-haired woman turns the corner into the living room.
I’m not sure I fully appreciated exactly how much Emily and Josh look alike until now, when I see the amalgamation of their features standing in front of me. Josh’s mom is petite, just like her daughter, with chin-length dark hair that flips up rebelliously at the ends on the left side. She’s not smiling yet, but there seems to be one permanently residing in her eyes.
Josh places a hand on the center of my back. “This is my friend Hazel.”
“Yujin-ah’s Hazel?”
I sense a hint of sibling rivalry as his brows come together. “Well . . . my Hazel, too,” he says, and I don’t have to tell you that I am freaking delighted by this. “Haze, this is my mom, Esther Im.”
“It is nice to meet you, Hazel.” Her smile spreads to her mouth and it takes over her entire face. It’s Josh’s unexpected, sun-coming-out smile. I love her already.
My first instinct is always to hug, to glom all over people as if there’s some direct line that leads from my heart to my extremities. Fortunately I happen to be holding the world’s largest fruit basket and my arms are otherwise occupied.
Unfortunately, every K-drama I’ve ever seen chooses this exact moment to shuffle through my brain and I bend, bowing deeply at the waist and sending apples and oranges sailing across Mrs. Im’s spotless entryway floor.
A few things happen in rapid succession. First, I let out a stream of curse words—something I shouldn’t be doing in front of anyone’s mother, let alone my new bestie’s sweet Korean umma. Next, I throw the rest of the basket at a very surprised and unprepared Josh and dive for the floor, scuttling across the rug on my hands and knees.
Josh doesn’t even sound horrified by my antics anymore: “Hazel.”
“I’ve got them!” I say, frantically scrambling for the bruised fruit and making a basket out of the front of my shirt for safekeeping.
“Hazel.” His tone is firmer now, and I feel his hands on my waist as he drags me back toward them and helps me to my feet.
Hurricane Hazel strikes again.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, smoothing my hair and twisting my skirt so it’s facing the right direction. “I’ve been so excited to meet you and of course that means that I do something like launch a fruit basket.” With as much grace as I can muster, I pull a couple of clementines from the vicinity of my cleavage. “Can I put these in the fridge for you?”
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Seated at the kitchen counter, I glare down at the glass of water Josh sets in front of me, muttering, “At this rate I won’t even be invited to the wedding.”
Josh’s mom is at the stove, dropping onions into a pot that looks like it is at least as old as Josh.
“What are you talking about?” he whispers, and kneels down at my side.
“She started speaking in Korean. Was she saying she hated me?”
“Of course not. She thinks you’re a pretty funny girl.”
Pretty funny? Or pretty, funny? Is that a half compliment, or two solid ones? Either way, my eyes widen and I grin. “Your mom is pretty comma smart.”
Without expecting me to translate this, Josh taps me on the nose and moves to the counter, reaching for something in a cupboard too high for his mom to reach. He isn’t exactly what you would call redwood tall, but he’s got at least a few inches on me, and looks like a giant standing next to her.
Mrs. Im glances over at me. “So, Hazel, where does your family live?”