"Great choice. And yours?" "I'll have green tea, please," Thomas said. Green tea. I realized I'd never hung out with a guy who ordered green tea. Was he a health freak? He was on the slim side, but his shoulders were broad, his arms filled out the dress shirt he was wearing. "Perfect. I'll be right back with your drinks." "Thank you," we both said. "How do you know Tita Didi?" I asked him once the server left. I grabbed the card and the marker, placing a number 1 beside the veggie caterpillar roll, tempura yam roll, and shiitake mushroom roll. "She's my mom's sister," he answered. Oh. Nephew. Right. "You two looked close." "She doesn't have any kids." My eyebrows rose. "So you hang out with your aunt at the mall? Nice guy. Didn't know you guys still exist." His brown eyes were amused as they looked at me. "Oh, we do exist. Just some of us didn't wake up early and missed Nice Guy 101 class." He was witty, too. I handed him the pen. His hair dropped on his forehead as he looked down and wrote on his order card. He raked it back with his fingers. It was black and curly, so it would totally be normal if it reminded me of someone I was so totally over with. Except that it was the wrong shade. Cameron's hair was darker, almost blue black, especially when it hit the sun. And it wasn't tightly curled like Thomas'. Cameron's were like loose angel curls. Damn him. Get the hell out of my head, Bigfoot! "Have you guys decided on what to order?" the server asked as he placed our drinks on the table. "I don't think you remember me," Thomas said when our server left. My eyebrows drew together. "Have we met?" "Ouch. I go to the same church. I saw you slapped you brother in the face once." I drew a blank for a moment and then I laughed, remembering that time when I was so sleepy—when was I not, really—and Dylan woke me up and my hand automatically slapped him. I didn't know anyone had noticed. "Oh yeah, we do that for fun," I deadpanned. "My brother likes it." He smiled. "Got a mean streak in you." "Do you have brothers and sisters?" He nodded. "Five sisters and five brothers. I'm the baby." "No way. There's eleven of you?" "My childhood was an adventure." The server came with our food and we discovered that we were both vegetarian. He told me funny stories of how his siblings pranked him, told him to wash the dishes and sweep the floor because he was the youngest, how he never held the tv remote control, and how he missed his siblings when they all grew up and left their parents' house. And eventually he left, too. We talked about how it was like to grow up as mixed babies in Canada—his ma was Filipino and his dad was African-Canadian. He was open, friendly, and we had a lot in common. We shared stories about difficult patients and the sweet, kind patients that made working at the health industry worth it. It seemed that the universe was actually listening to me for once when I asked for someone like him. He was the complete opposite of someone I had completely written off. This person I had written off wouldn't even dream about telling me about his childhood. "Am I boring you?" he asked. I blinked. "Damn. No, I'm sorry. I just..." He had a boyish face, one that told me he had an army of family and friends and girls who absolutely adored him. His warm brown eyes invited me to tell him whatever I wanted. "I'm a jerk, aren't I?" I asked. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? I won't tell. Scout's honor." He made the three-finger salute. I stabbed a sushi with my chopsticks, chucked it in my mouth. What was the harm? He was a stranger and he looked trustworthy enough, although... "I have this... friend," I started. He nodded, smiling, his eyes shrewd. "I like these I have this friend hypothetical things." I gave him a dry look. "It's really my friend." "Uh-huh. So this friend is a lady?" "Yeah, and she met a man." "Sounds like something I'm expert with." "Expert? You get friendzoned a lot, don't you?" I asked. He chuckled. "Ouch. But we'll talk about me next time. This is your moment. Take the center stage, please." Please. I knew someone who never said please, except for that night. "Have you ever cared about somebody that you really hated a lot? The more you hate them the more you want them? And you pretend you're fine but deep inside you know you're really not. Have you ever cared about someone so much that you just want to push them off a cliff?" "Hmm. I can't really say for sure I've experienced this phenomenon." He put his chopsticks down. "Should I be worried? Do you need help?" "Not me. My friend."