Page 74 of For You, Sir

Jun halted, and the boy looked up with a nasty scowl, as if Jun had been the one who wasn’t looking at where he was going.

I rankled.Rude little brat.

Since Jun’s dad had raised him to be quiet and self-controlled, I thought he would be annoyed, too. But when I looked at Jun, he was smiling fondly at the boy’s departing back, like the kid had just given him a wildflower instead of a kick to the shin.

We continued on across the field to the food trucks. “What should we get?” Jun asked.

“You pick.” I nudged him with an elbow.

Jun chose a truck that servedtaiyaki—a waffle-like confection that’s inexplicably shaped like a fish. I’d never tried one before, so Jun insisted on buying. He handed me a taiyaki wrapped in a slip of bakery tissue.

I took a bite and found the outside was crisp, and the cake inside was soft and slightly chewy, like mochi. “Whoa,” I said. “I like it.”

“Aren’t they great?” He took a bite and shut his eyes, relishing the flavor. The closed eyes and blissed-out expression made me want to kiss him, but I knew he wouldn’t be down for that in public.

Maybe one day.

I took another bite and found there was a filling in the very center of the cake. “Red bean paste?” I guessed.

“Yeah,” he said. He smirked a little and added, “I made these a couple times as a kid, but I used peanut butter and jelly as the filling.”

I chuckled. “That actually sounds pretty good.”

“That one might have been Ho-Sung’s idea, actually,” Jun admitted. “He always wanted to help me cook, but I only let him do grunt work, like chopping.”

I nodded sagely. “Classic older brother move.”

He smiled knowingly and took another bite.

I realized the timing was perfect.Ask him, ask him, ask him…“Say, Jun…”

“Hm?” He pressed his mouth with a napkin.

“Did you really dream about culinary school as a kid?”

“Yeah,” he said. “The kitchen was my happy place back then. Still is, I guess.”

“Did you ever think about going to culinary school as an adult?” The idea had been turning in my mind since Ho-Sung mentioned it.

He reflected a moment. “Not really.”

Dammit!Maybe this wouldn’t work, after all.

“I wanted to be apâtissierfor a long time,” Jun said, “but my parents talked me out of it in high school. I guess that’s when I let the dream go.”

My palms went slick with sweat. “Well, uhm, I was thinking… If youdidstill want to go, you’d have the money from Mrs. Olsen for tuition.” My mouth was dry, but I forced myself to say it: “And while you’re going to school you could, uhm, stay at my place.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Move in with you?”

My pulse pounded, and I ran my fingers through my hair. “Yeah. If you wanted. That way, you wouldn’t have to work. So you could focus on your studies. And Mr. Cuddles could come, too, of course.”Ugh. Stop babbling, Einar.

Jun took a nibble of taiyaki, and I wished he didn’t have such a good poker face. “I hadn’t thought about it before,” he said after a moment. “But I will.”

I tamped down the urge to bombard him with another dozen reasons he should do it. He’d be following his dreams, he would save a fortune on rent, and we already knew we’d be compatible as housemates… But I didn’t want to push him, so I kept my mouth shut.

Jun pressed his lips together and said shyly, “Thanks for asking, Einar.”

Thanks for asking.Was that a brush-off? He wasn’t just trying to think of a polite way to turn me down, was he? I got a little queasy, but then Jun moved closer until our sides were touching. His hand brushed mine and my heart jumped as he discretely interlocked our pinkie fingers.

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