Page 37 of Well, That Was Unexpected

“So you’ve got a bule stomach. Easily poisoned.”

I shake my head. “No, not poisoned yet.” I don’t tell them it’s because I’ve spent most of my time cooped up in Kiki’s house, eating home-cooked meals like the world’s most boring tourist. I can’t believe that I’m standing here defending, of all things, my freaking bowels.

“Dude, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Rosiella says. “When I first came back to Jakarta after my first year at Oxford, my stomach had become so weak from all that clean British food that I had to go to the hospital after eating my favorite roadside nasi goreng.”

“Holy shit,” I say.

“I had to go to the hospital after eating clam kway teow,” Dicky says with a deep laugh. “You know, from that place inPIK?”

Nicoletta nods.

“So worth it, though,” Dicky says.

Nicoletta and Rosiella both nod while saying, “Mm-mm.”

I can’t believe they’re actually saying a trip to the hospital isworth a plate of kway teow. It’s just rice noodles, for crying out loud.

“It’s not actually that big of a deal,” George says. “Pretty sure we’ve all had to go to the hospital at some point for food poisoning.”

“WHAT?”

George shrugs. “Yeah, you just go in, get an IV drip and some clay or charcoal pills and you’ll be fine within the hour.”

“And then you can go home and eat more delicious, dirty food,” Nicoletta says, and the others all nod.

I’m gaping at them like a guppy. “I’ve never known anyone who has had to go to the hospital for food poisoning.”

Rosiella and Nicoletta laugh at me. “Don’t be surprised if it happens to you here.”

I look down at my drink, suddenly feeling ill.

“Oh, I think Eighth Aunt wants to talk to us,” George says. We say bye to his cousins and depart from the increasingly raucous group. Once we’re out of earshot, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Does Eighth Aunt really want to talk to us?” I say, looking around.

“No, but she’s the matriarch, so I’m just using her as a way to get us out of uncomfortable conversations.” George grins at me. “You okay?”

“What’s not to be okay about? I can talk about diarrhea all day long,” I say drily, despite evidence to the contrary. But George must see through my BS, because instead of walking back inside the restaurant where the throng is, we somehow find ourselvesmeandering toward the beach, where the crowd is thinner. I take in a deep breath of the sea-heavy air, trying to calm my racing mind. I’ve never felt so out of place before, so horribly different from everyone, so alien. And it doesn’t help that I’m with a guy who thinks I’m someone I’m not. I take a mouthful of my drink which I’m inexplicably still carrying and belatedly recall how strong it is.

“I’m sorry about my family,” George says.

“It’s fine. They’re…” I try to search for the right word, one that won’t be super offensive.

“A lot?” he says.

“Yeah.” I laugh a little. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs. “Okay, I guess. Given the whole situation. Hey, thanks again. For being so awesome during the interviews. I totally choked and you saved my ass.”

Huh. I definitely wasn’t expecting that. “It’s fine. But what did happen back there? I was under the impression that you get interviewed like every week.”

George gives a bashful smile that’s more adorable than I was prepared for. “Yeah, I guess it was just…everything, you know? There’s us, and then there’s the app.” He runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head. “I’m kind of sort of nervous about the app?” He releases his breath in a long sigh. “Wow, I haven’t told that to anyone before. My family only cares about how the app would make the company look, but I actually want it to do okay. I know, it’s a super-crowded market and everything, but I actually think it might do some good. I don’t know, sorry, I’m just rambling now.”

Despite myself, my heart goes out to George. I wasn’t expecting to see his vulnerable side, and it’s disarming in its sincerity. I know how he feels, the fear of failure looming large and heavy over him. But George has it even worse, because if he does fail, it’ll happen publicly. Yeesh, what a position to be in. It strikes me that I never connected with Bradley on a deeper level, not like this. Hell, I don’t even know what Bradley’s fears and dreams are, aside from that he wants to be an architect. Before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and put my hand on George’s arm. He startles, and I snatch my hand back. Okay, that was a mistake.

Cheeks burning, I take another sip of my drink and regret it immediately. I need to put this stupid thing down because I keep taking sips without meaning to. My head feels a bit fuzzy, like my brain’s grown fur. Does that thought make any sense? “I kind of hate all of this. I’m sorry we met.” Wow, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

George’s face is unreadable, or maybe it’s that I’m too tipsy to read anything, whether they be faces or words. After a while, he says, “I understand if things aren’t, um, as expected. To be honest, you’re kind of not what I was expecting either.”

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