by Pintip Dunn
Advance praise for Pintip Dunn’s
DATING MAKES PERFECT
“Sweet, spunky, witty, and wise—I fell in love with Winnie and her sisters. Pintip has a rare knack for blending action and adventure into a contemporary rom-com that keeps the pages turning.”
—Abigail Hing Wen, New York Times bestselling author of Loveboat, Taipei
“A witty, culturally immersive romance… A masterful story about family obligations, first crushes, and second chances.”
—Nisha Sharma, award-winning author of My So-Called Bollywood Life
“This book made my Thai-American heart soar. Every detail—from the mouth-watering foods to Winnie’s tight-knit but strict Thai family—serves to tell a story that is authentic, layered, and rings so true.”
—Christina Soontornvat, author of A Wish in the Dark
“Fun, heartfelt, and full of warmth…the ideal feel-good book for the summer. Do yourself a favor and read this book right away.”
—Jodi Meadows, New York Times bestselling author of the Fallen Isles trilogy
“A smart, funny, and endearing portrayal of budding romance, the power of sisterly love, and the pressure to be the perfect daughter.”
—Farrah Rochon, USA Today bestselling author of The Boyfriend Project
“Looking for all the feels? Look no further than Winnie and Mat. This one will keep you up all night reading.”
—Kate Brauning, author of How We Fall
“A delicious rom-com concoction that immerses readers in a Thai teen drama they’ll adore. Add a pinch of sister envy, the cute guy you love to hate, immigrant parent dynamics, a few kaffir lime leaves, and you’ll get a dish that’ll keep you entertained until the last page.”
—Lydia Kang, award-winning author of Toxic
“Bubbling over with charisma and charm, Dating Makes Perfect is a swoontasm of adorable characters, sparkling wit, and captivating Thai culture. You will totally want to date this book!”
—Darcy Woods, award-winning author of Summer of Supernovas
“Reading Dating Makes Perfect brought back a whole lot of childhood memories growing up Thai American. I wish I’d had this fun story (that even brought a few tears) to give me hope in my teen years when I was definitely not allowed to date until college.”
—Piper J. Drake, author of the bestselling True Heroes series
“An absolute feast for readers. The characters are deliciously complex, the family dynamics are rich and intense, and the tension between the main character, Winnie, and her enemy, Mat, is drool-worthy. This book will completely quench your hunger for a believable enemies-to-lovers rom-com!”
—Becky Wallace, author of Stealing Home
“So. Much. Fun! Pintip Dunn’s rom-com is an authentic, hilarious, and irresistible love letter to Thai culture—not to mention desserts. Foodies, be warned—don’t read this on an empty stomach!”
—Vanessa Barneveld, award-winning author of The Abduction
Also by Pintip Dunn
The Forget Tomorrow Series
Forget Tomorrow
Remember Yesterday
Seize Today
Before Tomorrow
Other novels by Pintip Dunn
Malice
Star-Crossed
The Darkest Lie
Girl on the Verge
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Adorkable, by Cookie O'Gorman
Eyes on Me, by Rachel Harris
The Bookworm Crush, by Lisa Brown Roberts
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Pintip Dunn. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Preview of Adorkable Copyright © 2020 by Cookie O’Gorman
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Road
Suite 327
Parker, CO 80134
[email protected]
Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Edited by Liz Pelletier, Lydia Sharp
Cover Illustrated by Bree Archer
Cover images by
Evgeniya Gaydarova/Gettyimages
Look Studio/Shutterstock
Interior design by Toni Kerr
ISBN 978-1-68281-497-0
Ebook ISBN 978-1-68281-498-7
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition August 2020
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To my beautiful A-ma, who loved fiercely and without hesitation. I hope you and my dear mama are together once again.
Prologue
The Tech sisters don’t date in high school.
Not because we’re not asked. My older sister Aranee holds the record for five invites for a single dance, while my other sister, Bunnisa, follows closely behind with four. The discrepancy has nothing to do with their appearance. They look exactly the same, being twins and all. Shiny, ruler-straight black hair gliding sleekly over their shoulders; expressive, nearly black eyes that Bunny spruces up with fake lashes and a piece of Scotch tape to create a double eyelid. If Ari has the edge, it’s only because she’s warmer—while Bunny’s icy perfection can be intimidating (notwithstanding the cutesy family nickname).
And me? Orrawin, the youngest sister, the baby of the family, the one who’s always struggling—but never really able—to catch up? True to form, I lag way, way behind with a single invite for homecoming in the ninth grade. I wasn’t even asked the other years, but I like to think—to hope, to pretend—that it’s just because word of the Tech sisters’ dating prohibition had gotten around.
It’s also not because we’re not interested. Ari famously got caught in digital art studio creating photos of her future children with crush and classmate Adam Scheffer. I would’ve died on the spot—or at least burst into tears and spent the rest of
the year hiding in the girls’ bathroom, where the stink of cheap perfume mixed with used feminine products would’ve killed me anyway. But Ari, being Ari, just smiled sheepishly and wrinkled her nose, and Adam fell headlong into love, if he wasn’t already halfway there.
Not that it did either of them any good.
And it’s not even because no one can pronounce our ridiculously long, Thai last name—Techavachara. There’ve been valiant attempts, that’s for sure. My favorite was Josh Neven’s “chicken cacciatore” in the sixth grade. Thank pra Buddha cho our family friend Mat Songsomboon shortened our last name to its current moniker. It stuck, and even our mom goes by “Dr. Tech” with her pediatric patients.
Which was maybe the last good thing Mat Songsomboon ever did.
But no. The Tech girls don’t date in high school for one reason and one reason alone: because we aren’t allowed.
“I don’t think so,” Papa said when Bunny wanted to go to the movies with a group of girl and guy friends.
“Mai dai det caut,” Mama said when Ari asked to invite the partner of her history project over to study, which loosely translates to “absolutely, positively not.”
“What will people say?” they asked in unison when the twins pointed out that the candidates for homecoming queen are typically escorted down the football field. My sisters ended up accompanying each other—and thank the mother hen and her six chicks reincarnated as stars that neither of them won. Just imagine if Ari or Bunny were kissed on the cheek by the homecoming king, in front of—gasp!—our entire small suburban town. Mama probably would’ve had heart failure—which her cardiologist husband could’ve diagnosed but not treated, since he would have been keeled over himself.
And so the Tech girls do not date—and have never dated—in high school.
Until now…
Chapter One
“How come you’re not engaged yet?” Mama asks my sisters three months before my high school graduation.
“You did not just ask us that.” Bunny’s hands freeze over the egg roll she’s wrapping, her eyes flashing dangerously. Or maybe they just look dangerous because of the cat-eye she’s applied on top of the lashes and Scotch tape. If I tried to pull off the same effect, I’d give myself a black eye—literally and figuratively.
Ari groans, even as her fingers continue to move. Already, she’s amassed a pile of precisely wrapped skins larger than mine and Bunny’s combined. “Seriously? We’ve been in college for how long? Two seconds?”
“It’s not like flipping a switch,” Bunny adds. “We can’t go from not dating to married in four seconds flat.”
“Six months.” Mama whisks away the large metal bowl, now empty of the ground beef, vermicelli noodle, and shredded cabbage mixture, and plunks a new one in its place. “Six months ago, Papa and I gave you permission to start dating. Given how much you girls grumbled and complained about not having relationships in high school, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to ask if you have any serious prospects.”
“That’s not what you said, though.” I grin impishly. “You said, and I quote, ‘How come you’re not engaged—’”
“Hush, Winnie,” Mama says automatically. At least once in every family discussion, someone breaks out with these words. Normally, it makes me straighten to my full five five—two inches taller than my sisters, thank you very much—as if they have to pay attention to me if I’m in their line of sight.
But today, I’m just happy to wrap egg rolls while my mom and sisters bicker.
Because they’re here, Ari and Bunny. Home for spring break. No doubt they’re Mama’s favorites. Ari is premed, while Bunny is prelaw. Together, they’re a Thai parent’s dearest fantasy come to life, which is why Mama’s hosting a fifty-person farewell party for the final night before they have to go back to college.
I’ll never be able to compete, so I don’t even try. Anything I could hope to do, they’ve already done and done better.
But I don’t mind. Because Ari and Bunny are my favorites, too. We’re like three sides of an isosceles triangle. I’ll never match their lengths or their angles, but they’d be hard-pressed to exist without me shoring them up. I think.
Ari stands and begins to sort through our egg rolls, setting aside the ones that have been wrapped too sloppily (me) or have too much filling (me again but also Bunny). Either infraction will make the egg rolls break apart in the frying oil or create unattractive air bubbles in the skin. Behind Ari’s back, Bunny shakes her head bossily, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue.
I giggle. Man, I’ll miss them when they leave me tomorrow. So much.
“I want to introduce you girls to some people tonight,” Mama continues.
Bunny puts her tongue back in her mouth. “People, Mother?” My super-sophisticated sister never calls her “Mama” like the rest of us. “You mean boys?”
“Well, yes.”
The twins exchange a look. While I’m fluent enough in their silent-speak to get the gist, they have entire conversations with their glances. Whole debates, complete with opening statement, evidence, and rebuttal.
Ari sits and begins wrapping again. “I don’t know who else we could possibly meet,” she says. “Pretty sure we’ve come across every Thai family in the greater Chicago area.”
“Ah, but some of them, you’ve only said hello to. Take Jack, for example. Auntie Took’s son. Very nice young man.” She directs a nod at Bunny. Jack is an acquaintance of ours but not actually a relative. In Thai culture, all my parents’ friends are considered “aunties” and “uncles.” “He’s a lawyer, you know. You two should have plenty to talk about.”
“He’s positively ancient!” Bunny says, horrified.
Mama grimaces. “Nonsense. He’s only thirty.”
“Like I said, ancient,” Bunny mutters. Ari kicks her under the table, and Bunny kicks her back. Their movements are like a well-orchestrated symphony. I’m so used to the vibrations, I can narrate exactly what’s happening, even if I can’t see through the wood.
Not wanting to be left out, I kick them both. In return, I get two swift kicks to either ankle.
“Owww!” I yelp.
“What is going on here?” Mama demands.
“Something!” we chorus together. It’s a response that Ari came up with a decade ago, when Papa said we were clearly doing more than nothing, especially with those mischievous looks in our eyes.
Mama’s face softens. “You three,” she says fondly. “It’s lovely to have you girls back, even if it’s just for a week. We’ve all missed you terribly. Especially Winnie. She’s been moping around the house like someone took the last bite of her sankaya.”
I frown. Fine. Maybe I do pout—a tiny bit—when we run out of my favorite pumpkin custard, but Mama’s definitely exaggerating on both counts.
My sisters shoot me twin glances of concern. I shake my head and wink, as if to say that Mama’s just being Mama, and they relax once more.
Mama barrels forward. “What are you wearing tonight?”
“Faux leather pants and a sleeveless top,” Bunny says at the same time that Ari responds, “My rose lace dress.”
I know Mama’s not asking me, so I keep my head down and continue wrapping.
“What about you, Winnie?” Ari asks loyally. “I think you should wear your black corduroy skirt. You have the legs for it.”
“Oh, nobody cares what Winnie wears,” Mama says breezily.
“Mother!” Bunny’s tone holds the only note of warning that Mama ever heeds. “That’s so rude.”
“Oh, Winnie knows what I mean.” Mama ruffles my hair, apparently forgetting that her hand is covered with bits of noodles and cabbage.
“Hmm…” She tilts her head, examining the concoction that she’s just deposited on my head. “You might want to wash your hair before the party tonight,” she stage-whispers.
I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Mama.”
“As I was saying,” she continues in a louder voice. “I love all my daughters equally. Winnie knows this. But Winnie’s not meeting the man she’s going to marry tonight. You two are!”
She waves her hand with a flourish, and the twins exchange another look. The glance is shorter this time—it’s got to be. I mean, they’ve already held an entire debate with their eyes. What else is left to be said?
Ari squares her shoulders. “Actually, Mama, we regret to inform you…we’ve come to a decision.”
Bunny nods vigorously. “It wasn’t easy. We thought long and hard, but after dissecting all the options, this is the only possible conclusion.”
I snort. Pretty sure they decided two minutes ago, during their eye debate, since we just found out about Mama’s sudden desire to see them engaged.
But I have more pressing concerns. Whatever the twins say, I’d bet my entire collection of costumed rubber duckies that it won’t make Mama happy. And if Mama’s not happy, somehow, someway, it will be bad for me. It always is.
“We’ve decided…” Bunny begins.
Ari picks up seamlessly. “…that we’re not going to marry…”
“…for ten years.”
“Maybe even twenty.”
“Probably thirty.”
The words come out fast and furious, overlapping like the red-wrapped firecrackers that people set off during Chinese New Year.
“We need lots of dating practice, after all,” Ari explains.
“Because, you see, we can’t possibly settle down until we know what’s out there,” Bunny chimes in.
“And we gain the skills necessary to make a relationship successful in today’s world.”
They exchange another look. I know what’s coming. The trump card. The bomb that’s going to blow Mama’s mind. The fate that’s worse than death for many Thai-American parents.
“You don’t want us to get a divorce, do you?” they conclude in unison.
Mama slides into a chair, boneless. She looks from one twin to the other, blinking rapidly. Who can blame her? My sisters are top-of-the-class smart, but even I am impressed by the logic and construction of this argument. Nothing short of a tour de force.