The world clashes all around me. The screams of the kitchen staff surge over the clanking of pans and metal utensils. Servers scurry around, shouting back to the cooks about where their food is. But it’s my mother’s clipped lecture that rings in my ear.

“Ava, that’s enough.”

I shift my cellphone from my hand to my shoulder, and I jerk on the strings of my serving apron. Anxiety dances in every bone of my body, tightening around my heart.

One of the older servers shouts into the kitchen, hands raised. “Where’s table eleven’s food?”

Servers and line cooks yell back at each other causing the cooks to bang around with their pans. It’s not like we’re even that busy. I have to shift away and plug my other ear to hear what my mother is saying.

Her voice slices through my speaker in a growl. “Enough of this writing nonsense. You need to put your childish thoughts where they belong—in the past. Get a real job, with a real salary.”

A swirling ball of heat shoots through my arm, urging me to punch out at anything, everything. I inhale slowly. “Mom, this is a great job. I get paid and I have sa—”

“We cannot help support you. You need to get out of that cramped apartment and start thinking about your future.”

The florescent lighting burns my eyes, and I close them momentarily to stop myself from swaying. “I have to go, Mom.” 

“Ava.”

“My break is almost over.” Not that we even really get breaks here. I just need to get off the phone. Any longer and I might say something really stupid. My mother holds no control over my life anymore, but she can still harass me.

“Okay, just remember what I said.”

“Yeah, I will.”

The sides of my tongue sting as I grit my teeth to hold at bay the boiling pit in my stomach. I am twenty-three years old. I can take care of myself and make my own decisions without her help. I drop the phone into the left side of my apron and rewrap the strings tighter around my waist.

I push the strands of my hair back and take a second to calm myself. It takes almost a minute for my heart to calm down and loosen. I can’t greet my tables looking so disheveled.

Talking with my mother always leaves me feeling depressed and anxious, my body trembling from the hum in my nerves. Why didn’t I just ignore her phone call? That would have been so much easier than having to deal with the constant nagging.

“Ava, you’ve been sat at table thirteen.” It’s one of the other servers—a tall guy, a few years younger than me who calls through the entryway before disappearing back out front.

Perfect. Now I can stay busy with work and push away all thoughts of my mother. I pull out my phone once more and type up a quick message to Jake. It’s too busy to hold a conversation with him, but he’ll understand from the highlights.

Ava: I had a fight with mom again…She’s being a bitch…Again. Can I come over today? Work is hell and I need to vent, I’m so pissed.

Jake responds immediately, as per usual.

Jake: Ofc! Come cuddle with me!

That’s something to look forward to at least. I return my phone and check to make sure I have my pad of paper and several pens. Check.

Now to get back to work.

***

How can such a prestigious condo in Topanga have a broken elevator? Shouldn’t they jump right on fixing anything that goes wrong here? Jake’s parents pay a premium for that exact convenience. Not that they check up on him enough to notice the elevator.

Which means I get to huff and puff my way up all of these stares to the seventh floor. Fantastic.

On the plus side, I’m burning off all of my anger. I don’t even really feel irritated anymore. Not that I’ve forgotten what my mother said. Why she thinks she can order me around as if I were still in high school is beyond me.

All I want right now is to see Jake’s adorable face and melt into his welcoming hug. Just the thought has my heart warming and my shoulders relaxing. Even after fifteen years he is still the one constant in my life that can calm me down completely. The one man that I can actually count on to be there for me.

Seven flights of stairs doesn’t seem like a lot, until you’re already halfway up them. Sweat drips down, rolling into my eyes even as I am constantly wiping them away. Lovely. I like to think that I’m not too out of shape, but the throb in my legs is a recurring reminder that I can’t pretend otherwise. I can’t even breathe correctly. My throat is so raw from my heavy panting that each breath scratches like sandpaper.

Once I set foot on the final landing, I want to weep with joy. I actually made it. And all it cost me was the use of my legs which now feel like jelly. Can I make it down the hallway? I definitely can’t just collapse right here on the top step. That would be dignifying indeed.

With every agonizing limp down the hall, my feet scream at me. I’ve been picking up too many shifts lately, and my feet hate me for the hours and hours of standing and walking. Maybe I need different inserts for my shoes or something, help soothe the pain.

I stop to take a breather once I reach Jake’s door. Somehow, placing my hands on my hips and leaning back helps the flow of air into my lungs, and also keeps me from flopping onto the ground like a fish out of water.

I try not to ruin my makeup too much as I dab the sweat off my face. I mean, it’s more than likely almost all worn off from work this morning, but I have to make the most of it. Jake always makes that tsking sound when I come so disheveled. He’s so high maintenance. My stomach contracts as I hit the doorbell. A rumbling shoots through my body. Great, and of course I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day since we’re not allowed to take a break when lunch is already so crazy busy.

The lock on Jake’s door clicks and the knob shifts. That’s odd. It normally takes him ages to work his way through the condo to answer the door. I already have the key in my hand, poised to unlock the door myself when it opens.

“Jake, that was—”

Nope, not Jake. Not even close.

This man is taller. Though he is definitely of Korean descent, like Jake. His eyes are a little narrower than Jake’s. To the point that he looks as though he is glaring down at me. There is a dark shade of eyeshadow, smoky around his eyes giving his already dense gaze more depth and character. His skin is lighter than mine, and his frame is more masculine than Jake’s. Snakebite piercings glint in the florescent lighting every time he moves his mouth.

Did Jake get himself a new boyfriend? What happened to that Mathew guy?

And he prefers Americans? I mean, I’ve never seen him date another Korean even though he is constantly around them. Maybe this man is different? He would have to be in order to get Jake’s attention. He’s quite picky with his partners.

And why does he always get the good-looking men?

The stranger doesn’t move nor does he speak. His eyes are simply roaming over my face, probably noticing the smear of eyeliner under my eyes or the splotchy foundation. I knew I should’ve fixed it before I came over.

“Hi.” Server mode kicks in, and I force down my confusion to spread a polite smile onto my lips. Maybe he doesn’t speak English? It could be that he doesn’t know what to say? I should ask him instead of just running through so many questions in my head.

The man’s brow twitches, and he presses his lips together, his hooped piercings shifting.

Hold up now. That expression. Almost like he is holding something back—hiding. The dimness of his gaze and the way he scours my face. I can see the resemblance with Jake now too. The way the man clenches his jaw is the same as Jake, the slight grinding of his teeth too.

I know him.

“Taemin?” Although my voice releases in a hoarse whisper, I know he hears me.

His brow shoots up into his ebony locks and his tongue slips out, running the length of his lips. It bumps over the hoops and flicks them as he nods softly. “Ava, it has been a while.” A small smile tugs on the corner of his mouth, and his eyes refuse to leave my face.

Is it hot, or am I still sweating from the walk up here? Could he just stop staring and let me in!

“Ava!” Jake’s familiar, high pitched voice screeches through the condo, bouncing off the high walls. “Hyung, stop blocking the door and let her in!”

Tae clears his throat and takes a step back, just enough for me to squeeze by, but it also means that I have to step up real close to him first. Definitely not what I want after a long shift. He probably smells the grease clinging to my hair and the blotchy makeup from sweating so much. Perfect.

For some godforsaken reason I breathe in as I step forward gaining a large whiff of Tae’s soothing musky cologne. Nope, I’m not a creep. Not in the slightest.

As if it’s not awkward enough to be this close to him, I glance up to meet his gaze. I’m making all sorts of bad decisions today. Tae shifts his face to the side, his round earring glinting in the light. Great. He probably really thinks I am creepy. I don’t blame him.

“Thanks.” Clearing my throat and mind at the same time, I slip my shoes off and slide my feet into the fuzzy slippers that sit near the entrance.