Page 60 of Role Play
To my new friend, Forrest. Cheers to the journey.
—Sora Cho
The words echo our earlier conversation about love being a journey, not a destination. Something warm unfurls in my chest.
“I’ll read it,” I promise, cradling the book gently in my arms like it’s a treasure.
As Sora gathers her belongings, I catch myself stealing glances at the pink cover now tucked between my bicep and rib cage.
It’s clear, this is something more potent than lustful flirtation. And it’s too late to forget about it. Maybe I took one step too many. I thought seeing her again would curb my interest. Like scratching an agitating itch. Instead, my intrigue has only magnified, and while I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, after today, I know one thing for sure.
I’m in trouble. Complicated trouble, like I’m standing at the edge of a deep pool I’m guaranteed to drown in.
“Hey,” Sora says, her bag flung around her shoulder. “I think Daphne’s tired and is about to head home.”
“Understandable,” I say in agreement.
“But I’m not so tired. Are you? Can I take you out for a drink as a thank-you?”
I pat my new book. “Anotherthank-you?”
“A lot of women groped you today. I think I owe you a few more for exploiting you like that. I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable.”
I belly-laugh at her sincerity. My whole life is getting exploited and groped by women, but she’s sweet to be concerned. “A drink sounds good. But how about I pay?” I pat my wallet through my jeans. “My wallet is pretty fat these days,” I tease.
Sora rolls her eyes. “Ass,” she murmurs.
Laughing, I pull her tote from her shoulders and sling it around my own. Then, I collect her suitcase, light as a feather after she sold all her books. Once I’m geared up like a packmule, I point Sora to the ballroom exit. “Come on, cookie girl…” Images of the deep, dark pool of unknown possibilities flash in my mind. “Let’s dive in.”
chapter 15
Sora
“When you invited me out for a drink, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
I look up from my boba tea to find Forrest eyeing his own cup with amused suspicion. We’re seated at a tiny table by the window of Lucky Moon, my favorite twenty-four-hour boba shop in Brooklyn, just a few blocks from where the book signing was held. The place is cramped but cozy, with paper lanterns casting a warm glow over the mismatched furniture.
“You don’t like it?” I ask, taking another satisfying sip through my jumbo straw.
Forrest prods at a tapioca pearl with his straw like it might suddenly spring to life. “I was picturing whiskey or bourbon, not a children’s drink with weird booger things in it.”
I laugh, nearly choking on my taro milk tea. “You’re a grown-ass man. How have you never had boba tea?”
“Because these little balls look nuclear,” he chides, uncloaked skepticism painting his whole face.
“They’re tapioca pearls. And this is a legitimate beverage choice for an adult.”
“If you say so.” He takes a tentative sip, his eyes widening slightly when a tapioca pearl shoots up his straw. He chews thoughtfully, his expression morphing from skepticism to reluctant approval. “Huh. Chewy. Not terrible.”
“High praise indeed.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Sorry, I’m not a big drinker. I’m not against it, but I don’t often partake.”
“I gathered that from your gummy bear adventure.”
Heat creeps up my neck at the memory. “Yeah, well, I’m not big on a lot of things, honestly. Mostly just work and…more work.”
“I find that hard to believe. You must have hobbies.”
I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “Writing is my hobby. And my job. And pretty much my entire personality at this point.”
