Jay takes me, Jess, Nancy, and Florence, and a bunch of his friends out for hot pot that weekend. He’s a gracious host, picking up pieces of radish and tofu for me and the girls with his chopsticks and setting them on our plates. He even personally mixes our hot-pot sauces for us, saying it’s his grandmother’s secret recipe.
Jess leans over and whispers in my ear, “He’s a keeper!”
I smile. Nancy and Florence stare enviously at us as Jay holds up a piece of shrimp for me and puts it in my mouth. I lick his fingers. Jay smiles. I know he’s craving more. But I want to do things differently this time, after what happened with Teddy. I want to take things slow and savor every moment.
Jay discreetly settles the bill before it even arrives at our table. As we’re leaving the restaurant, I notice Florence texting in the corner.
“Who are you always texting?” I ask her.
She blushes and puts her phone away. “No one,” she says. “Just a friend.”
“You ready?” Jay asks. I wave to my girlfriends and get into his car.
I sleep over that night, and in the morning, Jay wakes me up with a kiss. He’s holding his car keys in his hand.
“Want to go on a trip with me?” he asks.
I sit up in bed and put a sweatshirt on. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“Newport Beach,” he says. “I gotta look at something for my dad. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
“But I have a history paper due on Monday,” I tell him, gazing over at my backpack in the corner.
He shrugs. “So bring your books,” he says.
I get changed and throw my backpack into the car. As he drives, I ask him about this place we’re going.
“It’s just a place my dad’s thinking of buying,” he says.
I think back to his phone call with his dad the other night.
“He’s very particular,” Jay adds.
I got that. “Has he always been like that?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Jay shifts gears as he drives. “When I was little, he used to make me do my homework in the snow in my underwear,” Jay says.
“What?”
“To make me faster at it,” he says. “Especially the math. Said I was too slow. And if I cried, he’d keep me outside. Even in the dead of winter.”
I remember when he first said that thing about being naked in the cold when we were playing two truths and a lie in English class. At the time, I thought he meant something sexual. Now, looking over at him, I feel so bad he had to go through that.
“How old were you?”
He keeps his eyes glued to the road. “I was eight,” he says quietly.
Eight? Who would do such a thing to an eight-year-old?
“At ten, I had to swim across a ten-mile lake. Sailed a boat solo from Hong Kong to Macao when I was twelve. Anything to make me stronger . . .” His voice lingers. “That’s why he sent me here by myself. To toughen me up.”
He turns onto the highway, and I can feel the engine rumbling behind us as he kicks the car into high gear.
“And what happens if you say no?” I ask him.
Jay glances at me. “My dad’s worth four billion US dollars. He’s not exactly the kind of guy you say no to.”
“So?” I ask. “He’s still your dad . . .”
Jay reaches to turn on the radio. The sound of DJ Khaled fills the car, making it hard to continue the conversation. I look out the window, thinking about my own dad. He had his secretary track down and send me a box of first-edition Fitzgeralds, which my mom told me not to bend or even open, because then I can’t resell them later. A lot of good they’ll do me in English. I peer over at Jay, wondering if he feels similarly stifled sometimes.
“Ms. Jones, my English teacher, asked us a question in class,” I shout to him over the noise. “‘What does it mean to live well? And on what terms?’”
Jay reaches to turn down the radio, but he doesn’t answer the question. Instead, a mischievous look crosses his face as he lifts his hand off the steering wheel. “Hey, you want to drive?” he asks.
“No!” I exclaim, and reach to put his hands back.
He laughs. “I’m going to teach you how to drive,” he says. He turns to me and adds, “Can’t have a girlfriend who doesn’t know how to drive.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him call me that, and our eyes meet. Jess predicted that he would call me his girlfriend within the week. I stretch my legs up onto the dash, feeling the fireworks in my chest. Jay glances at my bare legs, distracted.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I tell him.
He grins, leans over, and kisses me, nearly swerving over to the next lane because the car’s so wide.
We arrive forty-five minutes later, at a shopping mall called Fashion Island.
“We’re here to go shopping?” I ask him, confused.
“I guess you can say that,” he says, eyes twinkling. “We’re shopping for a shopping mall.”
I laugh.
“I’m serious. My dad’s thinking about buying it!” he says. “C’mon, let’s go!”
“This whole thing?” I ask as I run after him. There must be three hundred shops in the open-air mall, plus movie theaters and restaurants.
“Give me your phone,” he says. This mall’s so big, he installs Find My Friends in case we get separated.
As we walk around the complex, Jay’s own phone keeps ringing. Every time, he taps Ignore. “You can answer it if you want,” I say to him. “Maybe it’s your dad calling—”
“It’s not my dad,” he says. He quickly shoves his phone into his pocket. “It’s nobody.”
We poke around the mall for the next hour, checking out bathrooms and elevators. Jay takes pictures of large cracks on the ground and counts the number of people in stores. He tells me the strategic investment team has already gone through all the papers.
“But the reason why my dad’s been so successful is he doesn’t just look on paper,” Jay says, examining the walls for water stains.
Wow, Jay really cares about his family business. I’m impressed.
As he swipes to take another picture of the exterior wall, his phone rings again.
“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” I guess. Only a girl would have the willpower to keep calling after the fifteenth rejection. He doesn’t say anything. I feel a twinge of jealousy and try to shrug it off. “It’s okay. You can take it.”
“I don’t want to take it,” he says.
He throws the phone at me with a grin.
“Here you take it,” he says.
“I don’t want to take it!” I protest. I try to give it back to him, but my finger accidentally taps Answer.
Reluctantly, I lift the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I ask.
Upon hearing my voice, the girl, whoever she is, hangs up. I look down at the name on the screen. The name on the screen reads “Tall. High cheekbones. Jimmy Choos.”
“Who’s Jimmy Choos?” I look up at Jay. “You name girls based on what they’re wearing?”
His face turns red as he mumbles a response. “I meet a lot of girls. It’s so I don’t forget what they look like.”
“What am I in here as?” I ask. I start searching my number. Jay reaches to grab his phone out of my hand but it’s too late. I find my number listed under “Claire. Cute smile. Virgin.”
“What the fuck?” I yell at him.
“I’m sorry! I’m just really organized,” he says.
“You’re organized? This is insane,” I tell him. I continue scrolling through the many, many girls in his contacts, and they’re all tagged “meis.” Mei means “hot girl” in Chinese.
“What the hell? Bubble butt? Button nose? Dimple cheeks?” I read from his phone. A few shoppers turn and stare at us. “And why are we all tagged meis?”
Jay plunges his face in his hands.
“It just helps me find the contact faster. It’s more efficient!”
“More efficient?” I put up my hands. I can’t believe this. “For what? When you text them for a booty call?” I meant it as a joke, but when he doesn’t respond, my eyes go wide. “Oh my God! That’s exactly what you do!”
I throw the phone back at him and pull my own out to get an Uber. I have zero interest in being with someone who labels girls based on the shape of their ass. I don’t care how nice he is to my friends at hot pot.
“Stop! What are you doing?” he asks as I walk away.
“You can find yourself another mei,” I yell as I head toward the parking lot.
As I’m walking out, Jay runs toward me and pulls me aside.
“Fine, you know what,” he says. He grabs his phone and holds it up so I can see. I watch as he does a quick search all for meis. There are 129 entries. 129! He highlights them all, and before I can say a word, he presses Delete.
“There,” he says. “All gone.”
I put my hand to my mouth.
The soft ocean breeze blows loose strands of my hair in my face as Jay pulls me close and wraps his arms around me.
“I don’t want those girls anymore.” He looks into my eyes and says, “I want you.”