He was tempted to take Stella up on her offer even though his gut told him he should say no. She would be better off spending her time with tech moguls and Nobel laureates—people who were actually good matches for her and could afford to be with her even when she wasn’t paying them.
Not like Michael. He would give almost anything to take the money out of their equation, but the bills didn’t stop, so he couldn’t, either.
“You want me to go, or you want me to stay?” Quan asked from where he stood in front of the door.
Michael took two beers out of the cardboard container, popped the top off one using the other, and set the open bottle on the coffee table. “Stay.”
Quan snatched the bottle on his way over and sat down next to Michael on the couch. After taking a deep swallow, he traded the beer for the noodles and took up where he’d left off, only not as loud now.
Michael popped the top off his own bottle with the edge of the table, turned on the TV, and drank as he absently flipped through the channels.
“So, about your girl . . .” Quan said. “How long you been seeing her?”
Michael took a long drag from his bottle. He needed to be buzzed if he was going to talk about this. “Stella’s not really ‘my girl.’ It’s only been a few weeks.”
“Whatever, man, you’ve got serious pussy mojo. If you want a girl, she’s yours.”
Michael snorted and drank more. “I don’t want a girl who likes me just because I fuck her right.”
He wanted a girl who liked him for him.
“You’re so full of shit.” Quan swapped his empty bowl for his beer and took a swig. “She almost cried when that blonde plastered herself to your face. She’s into you.”
Michael’s heart threatened all sorts of dramatic gymnastics at his cousin’s words, and he gave himself a stern mental shake as he stared into his beer bottle. It probably wasn’t what he thought. He shouldn’t jump to conclusions. “That’s cool.”
“That’s cool?” Quan arched an eyebrow. “You’re not in seventh grade anymore. You should be like, that’s awesome, man, thanks for telling me, I can’t see from inside my ass. Do you need sex advice? Because I know shit.”
Michael couldn’t stop the laughter from cracking out of his lungs. “No, I’m good on the sex advice. Thanks. But if you ever need some tips . . .”
Quan fingered the raised letters on the side of his beer bottle like he had something to say but was trying to figure out how. Pinning Michael with a weighted gaze, he finally asked, “Have you ever thought she’s kinda like Khai?”
Michael smiled slightly. “Yeah, just a little, though.” Stella was on the socially awkward side like Khai, but she was far more expressive and sensitive. “Why do you ask?”
Quan arched his eyebrows and drank his beer. “No reason.” After a moment of consideration, he pointed his bottle at Michael. “So have you two . . . you know?”
Michael took a long drag of beer. “Nope.”
“Really?” Quan grimaced. “Is she a virgin? Shit, is she saving it for marriage? Run like my mom is after you.”
Michael shrugged. “She needs me to go slow. I don’t mind. I kinda like it.” Every new response he earned from Stella felt special, just like in the old eBay commercials. It’s better when you win it. Maybe because it had always been so easy for him before.
“Fucking liar. You’re probably jacking off ten times a day.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t jacking off.”
Quan shot forward to the front of the couch. “Oh fuck, am I sitting on your come cushions?”
“Do you really wanna know?” Michael asked with a smirk.
“You’re disgusting. You know that?” Quan got up and sat on the coffee table, brus
hing at himself like he’d been contaminated.
Michael laughed, and the two of them spent a moment contemplating their beers.
When he couldn’t hold back any longer, Michael asked, “What did you think of Stella? Did you like her?” He braced himself for the answer, realizing he cared about his cousin’s opinion.
How stupid was that? Even if he did accept Stella’s proposal, he’d only be her practice boyfriend. Their practice relationship would end as soon as she gained the confidence to enter a real relationship with someone better.