“You didn’t want Lunar Love to fail,” I say.
“And neither do you.” Pó Po rests her hand on my forearm. “But don’t let your stubbornness get in your own way.”
It takes a few seconds to process what I’m hearing.
“The last thing I want to do is disappoint you,” I say.
“What would be disappointing is if you don’t take a chance to try to make Lunar Love your own. If you don’t put yourself out there, even when it means humiliating yourself. Don’t get in the way of your own future,” Pó Po instructs. “Now let’s eat! Our food is getting cold.”
We settle onto the couch in the living room and hit Play on the movie. In a toast, we tap our dumplings together with our chopsticks.
I’m finishing up my third dumpling when a message from Bennett lights up my phone screen. Pó Po is enthralled with the movie, hardly noticing that I’m using technology in the Movie-Screen-Only Zone.
I had a great time with you yesterday, he writes.
I balance my plate on my lap. Me too, I respond. What else do I say? Do I mention our kiss? Do I ask about the date? There are no manuals for what to do when your business competitor turns into your pseudo-client and then turns into someone you kiss.
Another text from him comes through. So your date tomorrow…
I craft my response: What about it…
It’s tomorrow… he replies.
Right… I text.
What feels like an unbearable stretch of time passes before Bennett responds again.
He seems like a great guy and everything is paid for… Bennett writes.
Are we… I start to write at the same time his message comes through. I want to know everything he’s thinking about what happened between us last night. After a few seconds, I delete the message. I guess I do owe you a second and final date. Are you going to be there?
Bennett responds faster this time. Do you want me to be there?
I don’t want you to not be there, I reply.
I watch three dots bounce on my screen as Bennett types. I hold my breath.
Then I’ll be there, he messages.
I grin when I read his response.
“Are you in the mood for love, Pó Po?” I ask, giving her a light nudge with my shoulder.
As the movie plays on the screen, Pó Po pats my hand and smiles. “Always,” she whispers. “I hope you are, too. It’s about time.”
Chapter 16
I smell the ocean before I see it. The cloudless sky is a stunning cerulean blue, but the gorgeous day doesn’t quell my nerves about how close I am to the water.
I miraculously manage to find parking and walk the rest of the way to the address Bennett provided in his vague text message. His instructions were to bring a sweater and sunglasses and to meet him in Fisherman’s Village in Marina del Rey.
I look up from the directions on my phone to gauge my surroundings. Dozens of gleaming white sailboats and powerboats of all sizes are docked, bobbing up and down in the teal water.
You’re still on land, Olivia. Breathe.
My heart pounds faster in anticipation of seeing Bennett again, a welcome distraction from my wobbly knees. With my cream-colored sweater slung over my arm, I find Bennett standing next to a kiosk holding a bag. Today he’s wearing a cornflower blue tee that looks soft from years of wear and khaki shorts. He adjusts his light blue baseball cap a few times in a way that almost looks like he’s fighting off nerves. Is he doubting his ZodiaCupid match for me?
“Hi,” I call out, adding a small wave.
Bennett smiles deeply when he sees me. “Hey!”
As soon as our eyes meet, I feel instantly at ease. I force myself to avoid looking at the area of his face beneath his nose. If he so much as licks his lips, I’m a goner. After Friday night, my unsteady knees wouldn’t be able to handle it. It’s just my luck when Bennett crosses into my space to give me a kiss on the cheek. He lingers, the sides of our faces pressed together. When I blink, my eyelashes graze his upper cheek, sending a jolt of heat through me.
“So, who am I meeting today?” I ask dizzily, looking around for someone who looks like they might be going on a first date. “And shouldn’t you be hiding behind a buoy or something? Is this weird?” An awkward stream of laughter comes out.
Bennett laughs. “Probably. But we’re here, so I’ll go get him. Are you good? I think you’re really going to like him.”
“Yeah. Let’s see who you found this time,” I mumble.
Bennett rounds the corner of the pay station. A few seconds later, he jumps out from behind it.
“Ta-da!” he shouts.
I snap my head back toward him. “Ta-da what?”
“Your date’s with me! I matched you with someone compatible last time, yet that wasn’t good enough. Now it’s time to try it my way,” Bennett says confidently.
“This is a total violation of the rules,” I say, holding back a grin.
“We agreed to go on dates with people we match with, and we both found each other compatible people. We did match on ZodiaCupid, after all, did we not?”
“That was a different profile!” I protest playfully. “And that was with someone named B.O.B.! You and I have been on a date, Mr. Mooncake-Filling-On-Your-T-Shirt. We both know how that turned out.”
“Because you were grilling me the entire time.” Bennett smiles. “We still matched. I’m your date. No more stalling.” He lifts a bag of unbleached flour from his bag. “This is for you. I couldn’t find peonies and figured this was the next best thing.”
I’m amused by his sweet gesture. “Fine. You’re my date.” My heart swells traitorously.
Before I can grab his offering, he pulls the bag back. “Actually, no. I’ll hang onto this for now so you don’t have to lug it around. Follow me.” He leads me around the kiosk and down a dock.
“Should we be over here?” I ask, looking at the signs condemning trespassing.
Bennett slows his steps and gestures toward a small powerboat rocking back and forth in the waves. “I know Horses are adventurous so I wanted to plan something fun for you,” he says, beaming. “We’re having a picnic on the boat! Oh, good, you brought a sweater. I may have underestimated the temperature today, but it should be cooler on the water.”
I grip my sweater tighter. “We’re eating on a boat. Like, docked, right?”
Bennett jumps into the boat first, placing the flour on the seat. “More like on the water. I opted for the seventeen-footer so that we’ll be more comfortable for our lunch. The water shouldn’t be too choppy right now.”
I feel the blood rush out of my face. I place my hand in his, grasping it a little too tightly as I step one foot onto what’s pretty much just a floating tub. When our fingers touch, the same thrill runs through me that I felt at the Getty. The boat wobbles, and I let out a loud shriek.
“Are you okay?” Bennett asks, alarmed. I back up from the boat, keeping my feet firmly planted on the dock. His smile drops. “Did I mess up?”
I straighten my shoulders. “I’m…fine.”
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but…are you scared of the ocean?” Bennett looks nervous that I actually might be.