"Remi!" Nea calls, flour-dusted all over her forearms, cheeks, and plaid apron. In a state of confusion, she dodges the steel tables where all the prepared meats and seasoned vegetables are still waiting to be put into separate black containers. "You have some guests waiting for you outside. And they're from school."

"Oh yeah," I exclaim, wiping my damp hands onto a ribbed dish towel. "Is it Zuri and Blaise?"

"So you were expecting them?" she asks, perfectly tweezed brows drawing together.

"Yeah," I admit through grit teeth, "it's a long story, but I lowkey owe them hot pot. Don't worry, I already slipped the money into the register and put it into the log and everything so the data isn't messed up."

"Dude, I'm sure the Wongs wouldn't mind giving them free food, but I get it," she tells me, glancing at them in the small window between the kitchen and main dining area. The two of them are still by the doorway, deep in conversation. He seems to say something that makes her throw her head back in laughter, using her hand to cover her smile. In response, he nudges her in the ribs with his elbow.

Since I already know what they're going to order, I decide it's best not to waste their time, so I head toward the fridge and scan the crowded shelves from the correct bento boxes which are separated with a plastic bag.

"Hey Sazuri and friends," I greet with a lopsided grin.

"Glad I'm so important that you could address me by name," Blaise mutters from behind her, hands tucked into his jean pockets. At his snarky remark, she rolls her eyes.

"You guys can sit here," I tell them, angling my head at the table which is hidden by a shoji room divider with a cherry blossom pattern on it. My favorite table to eat at if I have a chance, mostly because it's the closest to the kitchen and there's a mirror strip that borders that corner, underneath a bunch of paintings, hung up.

Luckily, they came at the deadest hours of my shift, which is about a little more than an hour before we actually close. The rusty burner, which is already plugged in, has a small pot with two separate slots. One I fill with a murky spicy soup that is bright red and full of dried chilis. The other I fill with the white soup that has jujubes floating in its broth.

Slowly, Blaise takes a ladle and stirs around while the concoction starts to boil.

"Thanks for inviting me Remi," she says, ripping the paper wrapping of her wooden chopsticks.

"No problem. It's my treat," I tell her with droopy eyelids. "Just make sure to eat all the expensive items before Blaise gets to it."

He looks at me with an unamused expression while she chuckles. "Will do. How about you? What are you gonna eat?"

"Actually, my break is in a little bit. I have to finish a couple of tasks before someone else takes over, but I'm probably gonna order some fried rice or something."

"Ah okay," she says, watching as Blaise dunks the glass noodles at the very bottom of the pot.

"Let me know if you need anything," I tell them before I'm heading back in the kitchen, where Nea is chopping some bell peppers into paper-thin slices at an alarmingly fast rate.

Quietly, I resume washing some snow peas in the sink, using my hand to make sure all the grime is off. When I decide they're clean enough for people not to get a virus, I put them into a basket strainer, and hand them to Nea, who is tasked with removing a long string along their spines.

Out of nowhere, Ms. Wong plates a dish full of stir-fried string beans and chicken chunks tossed in black bean sauce and hands it to me.

I frown. "No one ordered this."

"It's for your guests," she informs me, the corner of his lip curling ever so slightly. "Tell them it's on the house, and you can go on your break. I'll cover you, although I don't think we're gonna get any customers for the rest of the night."

"You're the best," I say to her before exiting to the main dining area, where Blaise's seat is vacated and his companion has her gaze settled on her phone, a couple of striped cats rolling around in the grass flashing on her screen.

She senses me approaching her and looks at me in awe as I set the dish down on the table.

"Enjoy this. It was made especially for you guys," I inform her, watching her starry eyes glimmer with appreciation.

"Wow. This is literally why I keep coming back here. I don't think I've ever ordered this before, but it looks good."

"It is good. One of my favorites, and I think it's pretty popular in general," I shrug, noticing that both of their plates are empty and the food that's not in the pot is still in the bento box. At this realization, I shift on my feet. They haven't even touched anything yet. Do they hate it?

"Are you waiting for the food to cool down or something?" I ask.

"Oh no," she shakes her head, her hair parting enough to reveal her studded pearl earrings. "Blaise told me to wait for you to go on break to start eating so we can invite you to join us."

Really? Jeez, he really must be trying to convert me into a fan. "Oh. Um, I mean there are only two chairs here, and I wouldn't want to intrude..."

"Nonsense," she waves her hand dismissively, reaching to pull a chair from a nearby table to her own. "Don't be ridiculous. You're always welcome. After all, you did pay for it. Besides, you're not going to leave me to eat alone with that trash, right?"

I'm hesitant to accept the offer, but Sazuri has been nothing other than nice to me. That, and the fact that I don't really have anywhere special to go to during my break. It's only 20 minutes.

So I sit down on the cushiony chair and rip open another pair of chopsticks.

Within seconds, Blaise returns, his eyes darting back and forth between us with an unreadable expression.

In an awkward silence, I watch them begin to collect some pieces of meat, cabbage, and noodles into small porcelain bowls. To my surprise, Blaise hands me his before he goes back in for more.

"Make sure you wrap the cabbage strips around the meat. It makes a difference," he tells me, avoiding eye contact as he ladles some soup over his rice, checking to see if the other food is ready to be eaten. For the most part, everything else still looks raw, and it looks like he deliberately gave me the most tender pieces while he waits for the rest to fully cook.

Carefully, I do as I'm told, wrapping the soup-absorbed stem around a cut of beef, blowing on it to cool it down before I take a small bite.

I don't know if it's my tablemates or if I'm just super hungry, but it tastes different than what I remember. A lot better. The broth is the perfect amount of spice and it compliments the other flavors well. Everything is just so fragrant and fresh that it feels comforting and delicious at the same time.

"Good?" he asks, patiently waiting for my verdict.

"I guess you might be right," I confess through gritted teeth.

Triumphantly, he resumes eating from his own bowl. "See," he looks at Sazuri, "I told you. Hot pot can warm even the coldest of hearts."

I can't help but roll my eyes. In my defense, it has been a while since I've eaten it because we used to only eat it on special occasions, like Aria's 12th birthday, which was so long ago. I was young, and the thought of doing work while I'm supposed to be enjoying my food isn't exactly appealing. Still isn't, but since Blaise was kind enough to serve me probably made it taste better.

Despite my efforts to suppress them, the thought of her being here with me right now slips into my mind. If she was still alive, she'd make sure to pick out all the enoki mushrooms for herself to enjoy. Maybe that's why I hated them so much. Because it meant I was different than her in some capacity.

Mr. Wong, with a broom in hand, starts sweeping in the area around us, not so subtly stealing glances at us every once in a while.

I can tell he wants nothing more than to waltz over here and introduce himself to these two people that are supposedly my guests. It's no secret that Nea's my only friend, and even then, if it weren't for the fact that the two of us work together and have known each other for years, we wouldn't be as close. I simply am too preoccupied with doing other things instead of socializing. In retrospect, it is quite sad thinking about all the friends I could've made or the memories I would have experienced if I expanded my horizons a bit more. But alas, here I am, very much satisfied with where I am now and what I've accomplished instead.

Satisfied, but not happy.

Sighing, I pinch my nose bridge. "Mr. Wong these are my classmates from school."

Eagerly, he scurries over to us, desperately failing at pretending to be less excited than he actually is. "Hey. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to finally meet you personally," Sazuri agrees, resting her chin on her palm. "I've seen you working around here and was scared to approach you, but the food here is really good."

"Oh, thanks. I'd say it's a secret family recipe passed down through generations, but it really just is trial and error. When we first opened a decade ago, I had no idea what I was doing. I had just quit my job working at Charles Schwab and was completely new to this industry."

"Charles Schwab?" Blaise repeats, "My dad used to work there. Cool."

"No way. What was his position?"

"A data engineering manager I think? He doesn't work there anymore though."

"I was in the same department," Mr. Wong says proudly, "wow. It really is a small world."

The two of them dive into a conversation about stocks and banking that my limited economics knowledge makes it hard for me to follow along. So instead, I turn my attention to Sazuri, who looks equally confused but amused nonetheless.

Something lights up in Mr. Wong's eyes, and I can instantly tell that he's taken an interest in him. Ever since they were young, the Wongs really wanted a son because in Chinese culture boys are considered more desirable than girls. And seeing the two of them together, it's obvious that Mr. Wong's nurturing tendencies are coming out. Especially since he can bond with the kid over some stupid stuff he used to be involved in.

"I got to go back to work," I inform Zuri, watching as she puts all her crumpled napkins into the bowls. One by one, I collect everything off of the surface.

"It's alright. I gotta leave soon too. Gonna go pick up my mom," she tells me with a dismissive wave of her hand, "Thank you again for the food, though. We should do this again, but next time it'll be my treat."

"That sounds nice," I agree, balancing the stack of plates with both hands. "Just you and me though right?"

At this, she giggles. "If you want, but between you and me, I think you'd enjoy it more if he was around."

I laugh off her baseless assumption before I head back to the kitchen, where a fuck ton of dishes are waiting to be washed. Joining Nea, I dry them off and put them back into their proper location as Nea washes them. All the while, a classic rock playlist from her phone plays in the speakers, lightening up the atmosphere. In no time, everything is finished and spotless.

Eventually, 9 turns to 10, and it's finally time for us to close. Fortunately, as I had suspected, besides the two of them, there were no other customers which is bad for business, but it makes it much easier to finish everything on time.

Wet rag and bucket of soapy water in hand, I head to the dining room, where it looks like Sazuri has left, but Blaise has stayed and is still deep in conversation with Mr. Wong. The sight makes me grimace, mostly because Mr. Wong's the type of person to go on and on about his life story and distill his wisdom onto people he's literally just met, and Blaise is probably too nice to tell him to stop talking.

"Remi, I like this kid," Mr. Wong declares, using his thumb to point to him before recrossing his arm and shifting on his feet so they're no longer intertwined.

"That makes one of us," I murmur, using all my force to scrub off a stubborn sauce stain on the glass tabletop.

Blaise laughs, but Mr. Wong doesn't seem to have heard what I said. "Seriously. Why didn't you introduce the two of us sooner? He's amazing."

Maybe because we aren't friends. "I'm glad you think so."

"You want a job here, son?" he asks Blaise, who opens his mouth to respond before I cut him off.

"He's fine. Thanks for the offer though."

Mr. Wong glares at me. "What does he want though?"

Visibly in shock, Blaise shrugs. "I don't know it seems like that would be cool—"

I groan loudly, moving the bucket to another table.

"But I'm pretty busy as is," he says, pursing his lips. "Plus I see Remiya enough at school and I don't think I can stand being around her any longer than that."

Mr. Wong laughs boisterously, clapping him on the shoulder. "Understandable. You're welcome anytime here though okay?"

Unable to listen to their chatting any longer, I rejoin Ms. Wong in the kitchen, where I spend the rest of my shift sweeping and putting everything back in place. Nea has taken my place in the dining room, where she occasionally butts in their talk.

When we're finally finished, I grab my backpack from the small lockers they provide us and swing it on. My friend, on the other hand, has already changed into her regular clothes and is slipping on a snapback. I honestly feel gross in my work clothes, but I can't be bothered to change when I can wait to go home and shower. Seems like extra work for nothing.

The Wongs usher us outside, where the night embraces us with open arms. A key jingles as Ms. Wong locks up and eventually, they go their separate direction toward a parking lot.

Nea goes into a quieter area with her phone pressed to her ear so she can call her parents to pick us up, leaving me alone with a boy who, for some odd reason, hasn't left yet. His presence sticks to the back of my mind, and I'm hyperaware of every small moment he makes—the slight heaving of his chest, the heaviness of his hands in his pocket, and the subtle glances he was giving me.

"Mr. Wong really likes you," I point out, watching as my cloudy breath evaporates like smoke.

"I guess," he says with a shrug. "He's pretty cool. Nice dude."

"I'm happy he has your approval," I chide. "You waiting for someone to pick you up?"

"Naw my car's around the corner," he informs me. "Just wanted to thank you before I left. Looks like I converted you, so that's an added bonus."

"Yeah, yeah no need to. I lost a bet, so you deserve the food. And don't let this go to your head, because you're never going to win ever again."

He rolls his eyes, shrugging. "That's fine by me." Pause. "And Remiya?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember to take things easy, okay?"

"I am. Now you can leave, okay?"

"Fine. Fine. I'm going."