Page 46 of Baby Love

Kiet stares after her until the bells jingle as she exits the bar.

I drink my beer, waiting for him to process. When he finally focuses on me, he looks upset.

“I can’t choose,” he repeats.

“I’m not asking you to. She is.” I gesture to the waiter for another beer, and Kiet grabs my arm.

“I don’t want to lose either of you.”

“I don’t want that either, but think about it. She shouldn’t be threatening you with this. We should be able to keep our friendship while the two of you date. I’m not asking you to dump her; I just don’t want to be around her. You never have a minute for your friends because she’s always monopolizing your time, and I’m sick of staying quiet about it, Kiet. I’m sorry.” My heart softens as his face crumples. Grabbing his hand, I squeeze it tightly.

“Do you really love her?” I ask.

He meets my eyes and nods. The panicked expression on his face breaks me.

Taking a deep breath, I say, “Then go after her.”

“But—“

“I’ll always be your friend, I promise.” But we both know Daw won’t allow that, and we stare miserably at each other for long seconds before Kiet gets up from the table. With one more lingering, sorrowful look at me, he turns and leaves the bar.

I take a motosai home. When I enter my dark, empty apartment, the silence is more than I can bear. I search my phone for some upbeat music and connect with the speaker in the kitchen. My breakfast dishes are in the sink. I need to wash them and do my best not to replay what just happened with Keit in my mind. Glancing at the shelves on the wall, my eyes search out the big conch shell sitting in a place of honor in the middle. My mother gave it to me, and it’s the only thing I have left of her. Looking at it makes me feel better, as though she’s here, telling me that everything’s going to be all right.

With a sigh, I roll up my sleeves and turn on the hot water.

Chapter Twenty: Park

People don’t realize how difficult acting is, particularly on the days when filming gets backed up and work days stretch to seventeen and eighteen hours. I’m somewhat used to it and have learned to push through, but poor Spin’s still new to the grind. P’Big is known for being a perfectionist who works marathon hours. The director of the other bl Spin did—P’Sun—is said to work the actors pretty hard, but Love Time only consisted of eight twenty-minute episodes, and, as a secondary character, Spin didn’t have half the scenes he has in Heartbeat, which has a very tight schedule with twelve forty-five minute episodes to film. In the past few weeks, Spin’s fallen asleep in the makeup chair more times than I can count, and once he even nodded off during a meeting, his head falling onto my shoulder. Khun Lee took a video and put it on social media, and fans went wild over it.

I suspect Daeng and Aod are screwing on the regular, judging by the way Aod’s glued to Daeng’s side. I’m just waiting for it all to fall apart. Because it will. Daeng never stays with anybody long. The problem is, Aod is Daeng’s partner for this series, and they have to be together for the entire filming and promotion process. As long as they don’t screw things up for the rest of us, I’m going to keep myself out of it, but if Daeng keeps sending Spin those interested looks, I’ll make him regret it.

Sighing, I lean my head on the back of the couch and rest my eyes. P’Big told us this morning that filming is ahead of schedule, which is good news—it means we can finally slow down a little. Beside me, Spin’s fallen asleep while we wait for Daeng and Aod to finish filming a scene. Smiling, I gently adjust Spin’s head so it won’t fall forward and wake him up, patting the soft, dark hair before removing my hand. I know he’s been fighting more than exhaustion. He told me that Daw gave Kiet an ultimatum, and that Kiet picked Daw over their friendship. Although Spin’s only mentioned it once, I can tell he’s upset.

Spin’s ringtone begins playing BTS’s Boy With Love, and he jerks awake. Looking down at his phone, he stares at the screen, an odd look on his face.

“Spin?” I ask.

He glances at me, then slowly swipes his thumb across the bottom before lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hello,” he says softly.

The male voice I hear on the other line swearing, asking why Spin is never where he’s supposed to be when he’s looking for him, has me on my feet.

“Why are you looking for me?” Spin asks, voice and expression devoid of emotion.

“I’m your father; I don’t have to tell you why I’m looking for you. Where are you?”

His father? Spin told me his father left when Spin was eighteen. Do they keep in touch?

“I’m at work,” Spin says.

“Work!” his father bellows loudly enough to cause two staff members nearby to turn their heads. “Where the hell do you work? I’m coming over there. I can’t get in the damn apartment.”

“How did you know where I live?” Spin asks in that same wooden voice he’s been using.

“I have friends in this city who keep an eye on you. For instance, I know you’re sending your sister to that high-priced art school. Where the hell did you get the money for that?”

“Pah, what do you want?” Spin asks, exhaustion leaking into his tone.

---