Chapter 6: “Sasha’s Birthday” Pt. II

I come downstairs for a bite to eat before I start getting ready. 

As usual, Tati blasts Spotify from his phone straight to his Bluetooth stereo, and Ricky Martin’s “Cup of Life” plays right now, which complements the silly and competitive nature of Smash. He stands at the kitchen island, slicing Bulgarian salami and kashkavalWikipedia: ‘yellow cheese’ made from cow's milk, sheep's milk or both. until he deposits them onto an embroidered glass plate. Boey and Ezra both lounge on barstools across from him, snacking on lukankaWikipedia: A Bulgarian (sometimes spicy) salami unique to Bulgarian cuisine. Similar to sujuk, but often stronger flavored. Lukanka salami is made of pork, veal, and spices (black pepper, cumin, salt), minced together and stuffed into a length of dried cow's intestine as a casing. and sujukWikipedia: A dry, spicy, and fermented sausage which is consumed in several Balkan, Middle Eastern and Central Asian cuisines. Sujuk mainly consists of ground meat and animal fat usually obtained from beef or lamb, even horse, using cumin, garlic, salt, red pepper spices while immersed in conversation about the new Top Gun movie we watched last night. 

"Hey, Boey, which one's your type?"

"Huh?"

"Kelly McGillis or Jennifer Connelly. Who played Penny better?"

Typical Ezra. He likes to gab about celebrity crushes and Hollywood relationships while Boey struggles to feign interest, staring off into space and nibbling on a half-eaten piece of sujuk in idle boredom. 

"...Which one's which again?"

"Okay. Kelly McGillis. She played Tom Cruise's love interest in the first movie. You know, the blonde. The bombshell. The one with the tomboyish charm.” I chuckle, amused. It’s obvious who Ezra prefers more by his enthusiastic description alone. “And then there’s Jennifer Connelly who played Penny in the new one. She's got, like, this mature, dark beauty to her–"

"Oh, wait. She's the one who played in– what's it called–.” Boey snaps his fingers to the beat of his rising frustration, the words on the tip of his tongue. “She’s in that movie with David Bowie–."

"Into the Labyrinth."

"Right!" He points in triumph.

"Okay, now that you know, which one would you rather smash more?"

"Uh… neither?” He settles back down and munches on a piece of kashkaval like string cheese, bored again. Boey’s the type to focus on the story and characters more, not so much the actors and their personal lives. “I don't care about them either way."

"What? How can you say that–?" Ezra stares in shock, scandalized by his apathy. “That’s like saying you’ve got no appreciation for human art!”

“You mean the human body?”

“Yes!” Ezra gesticulates his frustration and enthusiasm with explosive arms. “The human body is art.”

He shrugs. "So, what? I don't know ‘em. Why should I feel anything about them?"

I'm starting to think Boey's developing a gay harem, because his interest in the female body– both in reality and the realm of fiction– seems non-existent, and yet the physical ease with which he engages my best friends on top of his raunchy sense of humor? Very sus. His feelings for Aya are the only reason I consider him remotely heterosexual. Maybe he’s demisexual? I never know with that guy.

"Gosh, guys! Stop objectifying women!" 

I bust out my best impression of a dude voice while using Caleb as inspiration, skipping over to muss Ezra's stylish mess of chestnut-blonde curls. I dodge his playful swipe, delighting in his angry-cute pout. 

"Ay! Careful with the merchandise!" 

He withdraws his hands to comb it back into place, his mock glare crumbling under the force of his cheeky grin.

Ezra Favalora Vázquez. 

My sweet devilish Afro-Latino and fellow child of the summer solstice.

Out of all my best friends from middle school, he’s the athletic jock type despite being a total nerd. He’s also The Fashionista, sporting custom jerseys, colorful tank tops, cargo shorts or capris, and the squeakiest Nikes. Tati complains he wears too much jewelry for a regular guy, but I don't care. I love his nose piercings, beaded bracelets, and studded earrings; they give him character.

And then they segway into a debate about who would win (and look better) in their own picturesque version of a shirtless beach scene, juggling volleyballs and innuendos. Honestly, the gayest conversation between them to ever grace my ears, and they have one nearly everyday.

I catch the other boys in the living room, split between 'break' mode and 'rematch' mode. None of them deigned to greet me upon my arrival. Sunnie and Caleb engross themselves in their 1v1 matches, usually the last two left standing in long hours of gaming. Sunnie loves to play and Caleb loves the competition, yet the former never cares about winning while the latter acts like the biggest sore loser on this side of the planet. I never grow tired of watching Sunnie innocently throttle Caleb's fragile ego.

Hinata Sylvanus Tafoya. 

He likes to go by “Sunnie,” a little self-conscious of his Japanese roots. 

No matter the season or occasion, Sunnie loves the black aesthetic. That winter child loves his Korean-style hoodie shirts, skinny jeans, and star-patterned Vans way too much, and don’t even get me started on his love for chains. You’ll always hear him before you see him, the echo of his twin bracelets and single long chain dangling from his waistband. He’s been a dork for as long as I’ve known him, and I blame his obsession with Kingdom Hearts and K-Pop for his edgy tastes. 

And then you got Caleb Miriel Montgomery. 

He’s got the looks and charm of a generic white guy you’d see in every rom-com. I’ve come to witness his ilk across many cringe-worthy chick flicks Aya has forced me to watch with her. Think Zac Efron in High School Musical or Jonathan Bennet from Mean Girls. I mean, he’s got it all. Talented in sports, beloved by all the ladies, and a friend to all like-minded guys. He hides a sensitive side that lives under constant terror of his divorcé dad and mean iron fist. 

What else can I say about him? He’s an open book. Yes, he does have daddy issues, and yes, his grandmother did give him that middle name. I enjoy teasing him about it every chance I get, and he absolutely hates it. No, I don’t have feelings for him– contrary to popular belief among our peers who have known us all our school year lives. End of story. Thank you.

And last, but not least– Jae Dong Seo and Richard Frank McDonald. “JD” and “Richie.”

One sleepy biology class in middle school, and they’ve been joined at the hip ever since. They chill on the other side of the three-seater sofa with their Switches, playing the latest Monster Hunter 4 expansion online, those two indistinguishable from their graphic t-shirts, dark jeans, and modest heights. Yet JD likes to keep his long black hair combed and loose, curtaining his expressionless, smooth mug behind untrimmed bangs while Richie maintains an awkward crop of auburn hair, his baby face full of freckles.

Before I can call out to them, Tati’s voice reels me in first.

"Sasha." 

The moment we make eye contact, he waves the knife over his shoulder. Oh, he must have stored my plate in the microwave to hide it from flies. 

“Merci mnogoTranslation: “Thank you very much”  for the eggies.”

“No problem, baby.”

I swing around to fetch it before Tati can reach it, intercepting him in a hug and nuzzling his shoulder with kisses as revenge for earlier. He smells of sweat and sun-dried grass and chubritsa,Savory (chubritsa, merudia), one of the most traditional Bulgarian spices. Often used as the base for many of the traditional Bulgarian spice mixes. This Balkan savory has a strong distinct aroma similar to thyme, but much more distinctive; used in the preparation of many favorite dishes such as lentils, green beans, peas, beans, cabbage, potatoes, pizza and others. letting me know he spent his day exercising in the gym-garage, mowing the lawn (I remember the God-awful sound among other unpleasant reminders of the waking, productive world), and cooking for us gluttonous teenagers. In other words, living a gross and healthy life as expected of a househusband.

He flicks my cheeky smile with his salami-slimey fingers, and I spurn him in mock disgust, chomping the lukanka he offers me as repentance. Yum. Boey helps himself to a second portion of shopska salataWikipedia: A cold salad popular throughout Southeastern Europe. Bulgaria's most famous dish and national salad, whose colors recall the Bulgarian flag. Main ingredients: tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, peppers, sirene (feta cheese) (didn’t he just brush his teeth upstairs? I guess he just came home from summer class) while I snatch the steaming hot naan bread that pops out of the toaster, enduring the burn on my fingertips through sheer force of habit.

“Hey, that’s mine.”

“Calm down. I’m putting them on a plate for you. Bitch.” 

Hmph. That's what I get for trying to be nice. I stick my tongue out, sliding into the empty space between them. Since Boey's gonna be an asshole about it, I’m gonna steal a slice anyway. He glares daggers at me while I ignore him, spreading sireneBulgarian feta cheese and marionberry jam to my heart’s content. Boey does the same, except he prefers the boysenberry jam, and so we take a moment to relish our food in silent communion.

I sprinkle paprika on my eggs and then chubritsa on my pan-toasted sourdough bread, gorging on my poorly dissected eggs and mopping up the mess with my toast as a sponge. The runny yoke bleeds into my tomato juices now; I gotta clean my plate fast before it starts getting gross. Once done, I scrape lyutenitsaWikipedia: A (sometimes spicy) vegetable relish or chutney in Bulgarian, Macedonian and Serbian cuisines. The ingredients include peppers, aubergines, carrots, garlic, vegetable oil, sugar, salt, and tomatoes. It comes in many varieties: smooth; chunky; with chili peppers or eggplant; and hot or mild. on my third slice of bread, and chomp down, moaning in epicurean pleasure. Yep. Ten times better than ketchup. It’s not as tangy or sweet, and it’s got that nice little kick I love.

“Mnogo vkusno.”Translation: “Very tasty”

Boey licks his fingers in agreement. “Mm, super.”

“Want some apples? I’ll cut you some.” Tati offers while washing his hands, grabbing two from the fruit bowl to rinse them along with a washed knife from the drying tray. It takes him a minute to fill an emptied glass plate used for salad with clean slices of honeycrisp, and I grin, scarfing them down faster than I can sing my praises.

“Please~”

“Thanks, Tatko.”Translation: “Father” or “Dad”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re like the gender-bent version of Angelina Jolie DILF edition?” Ezra smirks, wagging his eyebrows.

Boey and I sputter, spitting out iced cranberry juice from our glasses (much to Tati’s annoyance, wiping the wet countertop with a paper towel). Bless Tati for looking so confused, unaccustomed to Ezra’s random spurts of unfiltered genius. And therein lies the beauty of English as a secondary language; you are spared the perversity of the modern day world. Before we can recover from that controversial proclamation, Ezra stands up from his barstool, patting his stomach.

“Hey, Yuri. If you’re done cooking, are you gonna join us for some Mortal Kombat?”

“Nah. Not right now. I’m gonna take a shower and change. We’re heading out to pick up Aya for dinner.”

“I see how it is. I thought we were all your children, but now I know that was a lie.”

“Too bad.” Tati smiles, amused by Ezra’s melodramatic simpering, and then he turns off his bluetooth speaker (goodbye, Enrique), rounding the island to touch my shoulder. "I'm going to freshen up. Take your time. We'll leave when you and Boyan are ready."

"Okay. Thank you again for the food, Tati."

"Nyama problem."Translation: “No problem.” He kisses my head in departure, and I grin, cheeks aching.

“I’m gonna chill in my room for a bit. Maybe take a shower if I feel like it.” Boey swerves in his seat, clambering off with those gangly limbs of his to exit the kitchen, jogging up the stairs before I can wave him off, my mouth too stuffed to voice a proper farewell. Mm, food, still hungry…

Ezra sits back down, sidling up to my side. "Hey, so what're the odds of me being adopted in your family?"

"Wha?" I use the time to gulp down my current mouthful of food to prepare for the punchline. "We’re the mafia. Who told you we run a foster care?"

His eyes bug out, incredulous, and then he throws his hand in JD’s direction. "Explain JD, then!"

"He's a freeloader. We don't adopt beggars."

"Okay, then. I'll be a freeloader, too.” Ezra squishes his cheek into his palm, pouting. “My parents are cruel. All they do is yell at me and abuse me with slippers."

"That's because you're a spoiled brat." I pause to crunch into my fourth slice of jam-loaded bread. Too much bread, you say? We Bulgarians breathe bread like the Asians breathe rice. It's in our blood.

"It's not my fault I was born a king!"

"Maybe in your past life. You watch too many damn isekais…"

"Seriously, though. I’m not joking. Adopt me."

"No. I don't want you for a brother. Boey's bad enough. I have to deal with JD, too."

"Aww~." 

“Oh, C'MON! You can’t be serious~!”

I jump, startled by Caleb’s roar of anger and Sunnie’s cry of triumph.

Caleb looks about ready to throw the controller, but somehow manages to restrain himself last second, fuming in place (if he seriously wrecked my favorite Pikachu pro controller, I would’ve murdered him) while Sunnie hops off the couch and runs an entire circuit around the couch, rejoicing with his arms raised to the ceiling. 

“Woohoo~! I’m victorious once again~!” 

Once Sunnie catches me in his line of sight, he glides in my direction like an airplane, singing my name. “Sasha~.” The air surrounding him sparkles from the force of his joyous smile, and I grin, twisting in my seat to welcome his wholehearted embrace.

“Sunnie~ I missed you– oof.” 

And then he tackles me, almost knocking me off my seat.

“I missed you, too!” He squeezes me tight, suffocating me in his arms. I succumb to breathless laughter, squeezing him twice as strong, delighting in his choking sounds and raspy “Y-You’re killing me…” until we eventually break apart, giggling. He hangs off my shoulder, weighing me down. “Oh, man, those games were pretty fun. Caleb almost had me there for a second.”

“How? How do you always win? I can’t even play with you. I always lose–.” As usual, Caleb turns into the biggest baby when he loses at anything. His complaints are like music to my ears– until he won’t shut up, like now, and I want to tear my ears off. He flops back in defeat and pulls out his phone, sulking in the wellspring of memes that Tiktok provides. Blessed silence for a fleeting moment until he blasts some annoying-ass video in the background at full volume.

“Sounds like bitch in here.” Ezra grins, laughing at his livid glare.

“Whatever. I’m done with this game.” 

“Son, you do me proud.” I smirk, returning to my food, struggling to keep pace with my full stomach. Oof. I don’t think I can finish this. I asked for too much and I hate eating leftovers, but at least I got Sunnie to help me out. He leans over my shoulder to snatch some of my foodies, annoyed by the disparity of his modest height and my tall bar stool. 

“Dang it...”

“Just ask. I’ll feed you.”

“Attempt to look cool: foiled.”

"You're fine." I cluck my tongue, swerving in my seat again to face him. 

"I'm too short~." Sunnie bemoans his greatest weakness, and I start shoving food in his mouth to dampen his spiraling, self-depreciating humor.

“You’re not short. You’re tall enough. I like that you meet me at eye level. You're perfectly fine just the way you are.”

You are reading story For You, Lyubov at novel35.com

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. I wanna be tall like Shaq. Or that giant from Game of Thrones. That'd be super cool. Seven feet tall. That's the dream...” Okay, now I know he’s joking. I let him have his moment, but only because I find him cute.

“You’re funny.” I smirk.

“What about you?” Ezra elbows him. 

“What? What about me?” He speaks through chipmunk-sized cheeks. 

It takes me a moment to remember what he's talking about, and then I roll my eyes before Ezra finishes his sentence.

“I bet if you ask to be adopted, they’ll take you right in.”

“Nah. Boey scares me, but Yuri scares me even more. He’s the ex-mafia. He could snap at any moment and kill me by accident.”

“C’mon, he’s not that bad.”

I feel the need to defend my father’s reputation as the scary-looking, well-meaning parent, because it needs to be said (and people need to be reminded). Sure, he’s got a violent temper, but who doesn’t? Whenever I see Tati raise his voice at something small or stupid that annoys him, I forget that people see a two-hundred-pound Slavic man with arm tattoos unleash a passionate slew of curses not meant for mortal ears. I’m quite convinced I inherited my temper from him. 

I mean, when I stop to think about it, I can kinda see where they're coming from. I remember moments like when Tati broke the TV screen by pitching a slice of banitsaWikipedia: a traditional pastry dish made in Bulgaria, North Macedonia and Southeastern Serbia, prepared by layering a mixture of whisked , natural yogurt and pieces of white brined cheese between  and then baking it in an oven. at it, and all because Maika wouldn’t stop bugging him about something (money-related? Yeah, I think he froze one of their joint credit cards). He even smashed a laptop into pieces once, because he couldn’t figure out how to sign into an old account of his.

So, yeah. Nothing to be scared about. 

“He’s not some Asian parent. He won’t emasculate you for getting an A-.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Boey and I get Bs all the time and he doesn’t mind.” I shrug, annoyed by Sunnie’s casual insistence of the contrary. “It’s when we get Cs that he starts getting serious. He’ll sit with us and help with our homework until we’re no longer struggling.”

I know it sounds like I’m low-key bragging when I say Boey and I have the chillest Dad in the world, but even he draws the line somewhere. He's strict when he needs to be. I'll never forget that dark moment in middle school when Tati whipped Boey’s ass for ditching the afterschool program and he only found out because the school had called him. I think his anger had more to do with the fact Boey lied to him than the actual act, but we both learned our lesson: Never disappoint our father.

“See?” Ezra throws his hand out. “I wanna live here!”

"What about me?"

Caleb slides into our conversation like a man trying to enter a girl's DMS, wedging in between Sunnie and I on purpose so he can lounge on the empty stool beside me. While I turn away from him like a pussycat spurning the affections of Pepé Le Pew, throwing him a withering glare cold enough to restore the climate, Sunnie utters no complaint, moving to join Ezra’s side. I hate how Caleb likes to make himself at home in my house. Um, excuse you? Homeboys only. Before I can snap at him, the warm, comforting presence of Sunnie’s body splayed across my lap as he snags more food from Tati’s appetizer board eases my simmering hostility.

"I wanna live rich, too, with a sexy mom."

"Ew. No. Definitely not you."

He smiles, smug. "I understand. I'd be too irresistible if we lived under the same roof."

What I would do with his level of confidence. "You're disgusting. I never knew you'd be into that, you pervert."

"I'm not, but I'm just saying." Caleb rolls his eyes, his mirth deflating like a popped balloon. "You're not fun to joke around with."

That guy always gets snippy when I shoot down his idea of humor. I'm annoyed at how sensitive he is about the stupidest things. Besides, forbidden or not, I would never want any kind of relationship with this guy ever. Not worth the trouble or the drama. "Except you weren't joking. You'd totally do it if you had the chance."

"With you? Yeah, right. In your dreams. I think you're the one who's the pervert."

"Unlike you, I'll happily admit that I am." I smirk, chomping on lukanka to take a break from the sujuk. The latter can be so painful to chew on repetition, the meat more tough. I prefer the red taste on my salami anyway, despite the moist texture of it.

"Whatever. You're not my type anyway."

"Uh-huh. And who is? Amanda?" I tease him in a singsong voice. This boy can't keep his dick in one spot for more than a month, and that's me being generous. Last week, he had been chatting up one of the cute girls from the journalism club. They hit it off because of her passion for sports writing and his love for attention, seeking validation in the only thing he’s good at. She strokes his ego waaay too much and I wanted to puke every time I heard them flirt.

"Eh…” He shrugs, reclining on the bar stool with an arm draped over the back rail, swiping through his phone. He tends to retreat into Snapchat or Instagram when the topic ceases to hold his interest. “She's okay. A bit plain. I'm talking to Guadalupe now."

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. And I used to have so much respect for Guadalupe, too. I hope she doesn’t fall for him because of his corny one-liners and agreeable looks.

“I feel bad for Amanda.”

“Why?” Caleb makes a face, annoyed. “You barely know her.”

“So? I don’t have to. It's not easy to be ghosted by a handsome asshole. Now you've gone and confused her poor self-esteem.”

“If you like her so much, why don’t you go out with her?” He scowls. “Then you’ll see how boring she is.” 

Well, that didn’t take him long. He unveiled the true reason within five minutes of goading, and as I thought, it belongs within the spectrum of asshole thinking. Caleb harbors such a victim complex, he hates when I call him out on stuff like that. He once confessed I sound like his dad, and I took that as a compliment. He’s sensitive and an asshole; a sensitive asshole. He must hate being a constant, living reminder of the fact.

I’ll admit, Amanda’s cute in a girl-next-door kind of way. She doesn’t do anything fancy with her makeup or outfits, which doesn’t bother me. She’s down to earth and mellow, a bit of a people pleaser. She’s cool to hang out with, but I never know if she’s too nice to ever tell me if I’m bothering her. I place her in the same category as Aya; cute and shy, a solid seven, but if I were to be honest, I find their low-esteem and constant need for assurance a big turn-off. 

Besides, I already have a reason, and nobody needs to know that.

“First of all, not interested, and not because of the reasons you just said.” I turn the other cheek, flipping my hair, giggling when Sunnie sputters from the sudden, soft impact. I should’ve grabbed one of my scrunchies, I feel so hot and sweaty around my neck, oof... “...and second of all, I am emotionally unavailable.”

Caleb squints in disbelief. “Oh yeah? By who?”

“I don’t need to shack up with someone to be unavailable, dick. I just don’t feel like dating anyone.” I interject, cheeks hot, my words sharp like spitfire.

Caleb lives so deep and entrenched in dating culture that his moronic brain can’t comprehend the idea of anyone willing to exist outside the social conventions of desperate, lonely, and insecure teenagers. It’s hard to express this particular feeling in spoken word, but– I’m comfortable being alone in my own skin, in my own company. I don’t want to share my time and body and romantic feelings with just anybody. I’ve often been criticized for my pickiness by Maika and my peers because of my stubbornness. Call it “high standards” or whatever, but I swear by it and it has never led me astray, even sparing me from unnecessary heartbreak.

“That’s just another way of saying you can’t get some.”

I roll my eyes. I can’t believe this guy. Why do girls like this horny jerk so much? Do they never see past that stupid face of his or does he only amp up his cool side around girls in his radar? My spiteful voice drips with sarcasm. "Wow. You're a real charmer. I bet you get all the ladies falling for you."

Ezra’s smirk had been growing wider and wider the longer we traded blows, outdoing even the diabolical Cheshire Cat himself. He leans forward to look past me now, unable to contain his excitement by interjecting "Hey, Caleb, I bet you can't get Sasha to fall in love with you."

"Bet!"

"Ugh. Gross."

"Wait– aren't you a lesbian?"

"I'm bisexual, you idiot. How else could I date Sunnie?"

“Because he’s the girliest guy I’ve met and you’re butch as fuck. He’s the reason you had a lesbian awakening.” 

Really? I roll my eyes. He’s exaggerating, still traumatized by the memory of my ever loving fists, and yet I feel bad for Sunnie that Caleb still roasts him to this day. I know I’m the one who broke up with him and everything, but it still pisses me off that he chooses to say nothing in his defense. Just smiles and ducks his head, brushing it off. I scowl, averting my eyes. Does anything bother him?

Caleb furrows his eyebrows, his skepticism growing. "...but you're a girl who still likes guys, right? Can you really call yourself bisexual then? The way I see it, you're either confused or indecisive."

Are we really having this conversation? He’s serious. He’s actually serious. 

"I can’t believe I'm actually losing brain cells just listening to you. Stop talking. You’re a disease to society."

"I mean, you either like girls or you like boys. Right?" He slides his elbows on the counter to lean forward, propping his chin on his closed fist so he can speak past me, looking to Ezra for confirmation. Now I’m trapped in this pincer formation of stupidity, and it’s all Ezra’s fault. He just loves to start shit, doesn’t he?

"That's the beauty of it. We bisexuals don’t discriminate. We like them all." 

Okay, never mind. I forgive him. Leave it to my bisexual soulmate to back me up on this one.

Okay, never mind. I forgive him. Leave it to my bisexual soulmate to back me up on this one. Although I wonder if maybe he’s mixing bisexuality with pansexuality; that’s the one where you are attracted to people based on their personality regardless of gender. Then again, I’d also understand why he would choose not to bother. Sometimes it's too much effort to simplify the subtle differences of the queer spectrum to a hetero normie, especially one of his dead brain capacity.

“Wait, what?” Caleb freezes, staring at Ezra in confusion and growing horror. “Don’t tell me you’re actually…?”

Ezra and I exchange looks, watching him as he starts to piece together the plain truth.  “Uh, yeah? I haven’t been hiding it, bro.”

“Does that mean… you thought about fucking me?” 

Now the poor guy suffers from his paranoid delusions. I watch him, entertained by his visible discomfort as he grimaces from the thought, uttering a noise of shivering disgust before hugging himself. Will this be the breaking point? Will this finally tear an arctic rift between them and ruin their friendship forever? I hope so. I’m tired of seeing this guy at my house.

“I’m flattered you think of me as a sex-crazed animal, but nah. You’re not my type, bro. Get over yourself.”

“I don’t know that! You could be lying to me!”

We exchange looks again, this time grinning like a pair of thieves. 

“You know what, you right.” Ezra takes the lead and I follow, hugging shoulders and squishing cheeks to spread our mischievous smiles wider. We’re the picture-perfect poster of promiscuity and we’re shamelessly proud of it. “You never know.”

"...I’m just gonna ignore you said that. Anyway.” 

I watch him attempt to erase that memory from his brain, sputtering like Jim Carrey for comedic effect– okay, that’s pretty funny, I giggled a little– and then he faces me, staring me down. I stare back, weirded out by his intensity. "What the hell do you want? Spit it out."

“That means you're not 100% immune. Half of you is attracted to me."

At the rate I’m rolling my eyes today, I’ll probably lose them by the end of this week.

“Look. I can admit you are attractive, but that doesn't mean I find you attractive. Your personality and lack of intelligence kills the whole package." You know, I should've added "deaf" and "short term memory" to the long list of traits I find insufferable about him, because he only seems to focus on the few words he likes to hear before spinning a whole new yarn tale out of them.

"Okay. Okay! Yeah, you know what, I'll take that bet. You’re on, Ezra!" He slaps his outstretched hand, sealing the deal. Once those two get themselves hyped on something, there’s no stopping them– until they run out of steam, which is often the case. It's annoying, but I'll have to wait for them to ride out the wave until they crash land into boredom.

“What makes you think I’ll fall in love with you? You seem mighty overconfident.”

“C’mon, admit it. A part of you secretly finds me charming.”

“Dream on, glue sucker.”

His mirth evaporates into flustered silence. Ha, got him! I smirk, smug. Aw. He’s even blushing to the tips of his ears. 

“That was one time, dammit,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Still makes you a glue sucker~.” I sing, giggling, slinking off my seat. Sunnie finally relinquishes his weight from my shoulder, uttering a cute noise of indignation when I ruffle his short black hair. The boys are so fussy about their hair. It’s funny. "Anyway, it’s been real, but I'm burning daylight. See y'all bitches later."

"Where you going? You're not gonna play a match with us?"

"Didn’t you hear the man? I have a date with sushi today. You're not invited. Family only." Just to annoy Caleb further, I call out to JD lazily lounging on the couch. He must have completed his monster hunt in record time, because now I see him tapping his phone screen to the beat of his app game. "Hey, you sure you don't want to join us? It's free food~.”

"Nah, I'm good. Bring me a roll, though."

I roll my eyes. I feel so loved. "Which one? We're going to Shirasoni."

"Kay."

“Hey, I want some sushi, too! Bring me some!” 

“Me, three!”

“Me four.”

“...Five.”

Ezra likes to whine as usual, but it’s hard to resist Sunnie’s puppy eyes when he directs them at me. Caleb casts his vote with his too-cool-to-care attitude when in reality he hates sushi and would only go for the bento box meals. Richie’s the last to raise his hand, eyes still fixated on his Switch. See the shit I have to deal with? Boys who are always hungry and spoiled.

“Okay, guys. Text Tati what you all want and we’ll think about it.”

You can find story with these keywords: For You, Lyubov, Read For You, Lyubov, For You, Lyubov novel, For You, Lyubov book, For You, Lyubov story, For You, Lyubov full, For You, Lyubov Latest Chapter