Page 101 of The Fallacy of True Love
“Why not for yourself?”
“If my own parents—the two people who should be biologically coded to love me—couldn’t love me, how can I expect some random person to?”
I stayed silent for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t mean to take away from how painful their disappearance must be, but that doesn’t mean no one will ever love you. What about your friends? Inang?”
She huffed a breath. “That’s a different kind of love.”
It was closer to the familial love she had referenced, but I didn’t argue that point. Instead, I asked, “Do you think that since Dani cheated on me, then every girl I date will cheat on me too?”
“That’s not the same thing,” she grumbled. “You’re a generally likable person. I’m not.”
“I believe we all have the right people who’ll see us for who we are and like us more for it.” Like how I see you, I stopped myself from saying.
Her lips pursed, and she avoided my gaze. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not looking for that. All I want’s a job. Now, can we talk about something else? You’re killing my appetite.”
“Can’t have that,” I said lightly.
I moved the conversation to casual territory, telling her about how this little strip of restaurants and shops hosted events for local artists and bands. Sometime between us finishing the tacos and ordering a second round of drinks—another beer for her, water for me—a girl with a guitar case walked over to the tiny platform up front and began setting up.
Maya’s shoulders loosened the more we ate, her laughter coming more freely. As the musician played the opening riffs of an old ballad, I glanced at Maya. Her lips curved in a small, soft smile, and I couldn’t look away.
“Time for you to study.” She spoke without taking her eyes off the musician.
Even though the last thing I wanted was to bring out my codal, I did. I put on my glasses, and Maya’s stare shifted to me. Her lips parted slightly, making me want to lean over and kiss her.
But then she blinked and said, “Study.”
So I did just that while the musician crooned in the background. I lost track of the songs and the time as I worked my way through the assigned chapters. But through it all, I was fully aware of Maya filling the space in front of me.
And I prayed to God that I’d have more of this.
Cam
At twenty-three years old, I finally had my first real date. It was nothing like I’d pictured. We were in the city, and Alonzo spent half our dinner studying with those glasses of his while I listened to music and him muttering to himself.
But it was perfect.
A little past midnight, Alonzo closed his book and paid the bill. We wandered down the strip, pausing every so often as he told me stories: how his friend had gotten drunk at one bar’s happy hour and nearly took a nosedive down the narrow stairs. How he’d gone thrifting with his sister Luna at one of the shops and found a vintage designer bag that they resold at a profit. How he’d almost gotten a random flash tattoo but the line had been too long—and how that was a good thing because he wanted me to give him his first.
I almost said yes. If I had my kit in my rental, I probably would have.
At the end of the strip, he hailed us a taxi, saying it was safer than a jeep at this time of night. The sides of our legs pressed together on the seat, and he placed one hand on my thigh. It was at once comforting and arousing. His thumb coasted circles on my skin, shooting tingles straight to my core. I pinned my hand on top of his, stalling his movements. In response, he turned his hand over so our palms lined up.
It was the closest I’d ever come to holding a guy’s hand.
“Ready for your class?” I asked to take my mind off that realization.
“I don’t think I’m ever completely ready,” he said as he traced the edges of my thumb with his. “I’ll run through my notes again when I get home.”
“Do you always study that way?” At his questioning look, I clarified, “Talking to yourself?”
He chuckled. “Only when I’m trying to make sense of concepts in my head. No one ever pointed it out to me until…well, until I started law school.”
“When did you know you wanted to go into law?”
His finger stilled. “When I was six.”
I stared at him, amazed he had decided that at such a young age. Did I even know what a lawyer was when I was six?
