Chances for Serendipity

by Natalie Chung

  “School is overrated.” At least, it felt that way to me. What I did back in school hardly mattered now.

  “Maybe it is,” he said, but the wistful look in his eyes gave away his true feelings.

  For the first time, I wondered if he wasn’t happy with how his life had turned out. Although his private life stayed shrouded in mystery, I was beginning to see a hidden side to him from the rare glimpses he’d shown today. And from what I’d seen so far, he was different than how he portrayed himself in public. Sure, he carried himself with the same confidence, but I also sensed an underlying uncertainty and sadness to him. Though it wasn’t my place to uncover those secrets, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit curious.

  “What was it like being homeschooled then?” I asked.

  “Let’s see…” Aiden said.

  We continued chatting while waiting for the food to arrive. It was surprisingly easy banter, like how I used to talk with Liz. As much as I didn’t want to think about her, it was hard not to when she’d spent many years teasing me about Aiden Andale. I could imagine her eating up this current interaction between us.

  But no. I was still supposed to be angry at her. Strangely, all I could muster up right now was disappointment when I thought about Liz, so I tried not to think about her at all. It helped that most of my conversation with Aiden involved him asking me more questions.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Nice. Same as me, then.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you still play tennis?”

  “Nope, not anymore. No time.”

  And on it went. Normally with those types of questions, I would have been as stiff and hard as an overcooked bun in my responses. But somehow, the conversation flowed so easily with him, like we could talk for hours without getting bored—until he hit a sore spot.

  “So what do you do when you aren’t working at the bakery?”

  “Um…” I bit my lip. “The thing is…I don’t normally work at the bakery.”

  The look Aiden gave me would’ve been comical if it wasn’t aimed at me—mouth slightly agape, eyes rounded, and brows arched high. “Really? But you look like you were born to run the place.”

  I laughed, the sound hollow to my ears. “I’ve been helping my parents since I was little, so I should hope that I’m good at it by now.” That was all it really was though. Helping. And not even much of that, until these last two weeks. “I’ve been working part-time at a law firm this year, but next month I’ll start working there full-time.”

  “That’s… I wouldn’t have guessed that.” He almost sounded disappointed. Why? It wasn’t that bad. I might not love my job, but it paid well. I could support Mum this way. Give her more holidays, contribute to the renovations, or help hire a new casual employee for days when she deserved a break.

  When Aiden asked more about my work, I gave him non-specific hmms and yeahs in response. My heart just wasn’t into the conversation after his reaction. Perhaps he finally got the point, because he said, “Okay. You’re probably tired of all the questions now. Your turn. Ask away.”

  Free rein to ask him anything? I already knew what questions occupied my mind. Is it true you’re really retiring from tennis when you’re only twenty-three years old? Why did you ditch your coach dad? Yeah, those didn’t sound very nice. As I contemplated how to better phrase them, my phone vibrated in my hand. “Oh, the delivery person’s here. I’ll get it.”

  A few minutes later, only the noise of eating filled the air as I enjoyed every bite of my meal. But every now and then, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at Aiden. Could this be a dream? A really vivid dream? Because if someone had told me yesterday, You’re going to have dinner with Aiden Andale, I would have called them crazy.

  I was so immersed in my own thoughts, I didn’t realise I was still staring at Aiden until his eyes met mine. “What’s up?” he said.

  I averted my gaze to my takeaway container. Slices of char siu dripped with a generous coating of the brown-red barbecue sauce. I should’ve been continuing to gobble it all up, but my mind was elsewhere. Are you retiring because of your dad? Did your dad do something to make you want to quit tennis? Nope, both still sounded too abrupt and rude. “Do you like the food?” I asked instead.

  “Yeah. It’s nice.” He bit into his piece of sauce-slathered char siu, chewed, and gave me a thumbs up. “It doesn’t really taste like usual barbecue sauce though.”

  “It’s a Cantonese-style dish, so the barbecue sauce is made from hoisin sauce and—” I huffed out a laugh, stopping myself before I went into a full explanation of how to make char siu sauce. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure whether you would.” He’d told me to surprise him by ordering the same thing as whatever I chose.

  “Hmm.” He poked at another slice of char siu with his plastic fork. “You mean you think I’m a rich snob who only eats from high-end restaurants?

  That was actually along the lines of what I’d been thinking originally, but I wouldn’t admit that to him. “Well, you are rich.”

  “That’s subjective. A lot of money was also spent for me to get to where I am.” He frowned. “But more importantly, do you think I’m a snob?”

  “No,” I said immediately. He hadn’t once shown off his wealth. He was more down-to-earth than I would’ve imagined. I suddenly felt bad for presuming I knew anything about him. “Sorry if it sounded like I was judging. I’m sure the media does enough of that for you.”

  He blinked slowly, as if gauging my words. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

  “I can tell you still dislike it, though. You joke about it, but sometimes people use jokes to hide what they’re actually feeling.” I’d cracked a fair few jokes myself after the bitter breakup with you-know-who. Sometimes you had to fake it to make it.

  Aiden lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I joke all the time. That’s just me.”

  “You don’t joke on the court.” Whenever I saw him play, he never made any attempts at trick shots. He also never went easy or relaxed, even when he was up two sets or several breaks.

  Setting his fork onto a napkin, Aiden folded his arms. “Playing on the court isn’t a joke. Not unless I want to pay the price for it after.” He let out an exasperated huff. “Well, maybe that won’t even matter anymore.”

  I held my breath. Was he implying what I thought he was? Retirement? This was it. The opening I’d been waiting for to ask him the big bad question.

  I cleared my throat. “Are you—are you really retiring?”

  He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You already heard about that? Stupid news travels too fast.”

  “So it’s true then? About your dad and—”

  He lifted a hand to cut me off. “Can you just—I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I blanched at his sudden, harsh tone, lowering my gaze to the food in front of me. “I’m sorry.” Minutes ago, I’d been gobbling up my meal without a care in the world. Now? My appetite was gone, replaced with a painful sensation building in my chest. Why did I have to be such a busybody? I just had to go and mess things up and—

  “Hey. Serendipity?”

  A thrill passed through me at the whisper of my name, but my eyes remained fixed on the char siu I still didn’t feel like eating. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. I was being an idiot.” The sincerity in his soft tone drew my eyes back to him again. He stared at me with a pained expression that seemed to plead with me to believe him. “It’s just—I was happy not thinking about tennis today for once in my life. You mentioning it brought me back to reality.”

  “It’s okay. I get it.” I got it more than I’d admit. And because I was the biggest hypocrite, I had to say exactly how much I understood. “You were running away.”

  Aiden closed his eyes, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Ugh, yep. Running away. You got me there.” He stayed quiet for a beat—then broke the silence by thumping a fisted hand to his chest. “Y
ou know what? We should have another challenge.”

  Uh-oh. “What kind of challenge?”

  “An easy one.” The corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile. “You can ask me a personal question, but in return you’ll let me ask you one too.”

  A question for a question. That sounded like a fair trade. Most of my curiosity would be sated without any lingering guilt. But then… “What will you ask me?”

  “I don’t know yet.” He cocked his head, his eyes glinting. “It’s all part of the surprise. So what do you say? Are you up for the challenge?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip. What was the worst question he could ask? He’d pretty much already interrogated me. “Sure, why not. This is more of a deal than a challenge.” Real challenges usually involved Max and I daring each other, with high rewards and even higher penalties. Once, I had to clean his room for six months straight after losing to him. This was child’s play in comparison.

  “Call it whatever you want, but you only get one question.” He grinned cheekily, and I could tell he was having a lot of fun thinking this up. “Better make it specific so I don’t give you a one word answer.”

  “Okay.” Mr Smarty Pants. I massaged my temple, begging my brains to think of one question that would resolve most of the questions floating around my head. Why are you retiring? Why did you split up with your dad as a coach? Although they were worthy questions, they were insensitive. If I was going to be personal, I’d at least have the decency not to be rude again. “Why were you happy not thinking about tennis today?”

  Aiden’s eyebrows rose. “That’s your question? I could just say, ‘Because I’m not happy with tennis,’ and be done with it.”

  I’d thought of that possibility, but he didn’t seem like the type of person to do that. Was I arrogant or naive? Guess I was about to find out. “Is that your answer then?”

  “No.” He blew out a breath. “I’m an idiot, not a jerk.” I waited for him to continue. “I guess you can say I’m in a love-hate relationship with tennis, and lately, it’s been leaning heavily on the hate side. It’s just been causing me such a big headache that I was happy doing something different today, just so I didn’t have to think about it.”

  “So you hate playing tennis now?” Oops, that was more than one question.

  But to my surprise, he answered me. “No, actually. Sometimes I miss playing. It’s more the other things associated with it that make me hate it.”

  I digested this new information, relief settling over me. He didn’t hate playing tennis. He also didn’t outright admit he was retiring. Maybe he would change his mind if he was. Maybe I could convince him to overlook the things associated with tennis that made him hate it. But who was I kidding? He had barely let me ask him one question.

  Trampling footsteps echoed up the stairs, putting a stop to my overly hopeful thoughts. By the sound of the footfalls, I recognised who it was before I saw him—Max.

  I stood and walked over to intercept him before he recognised Aiden and embarrassed me somehow. That was when I noticed the phone held to his ear. “I’m home now. Yes, we’ve got lots to eat. Don’t worry,” he said in Cantonese as he slipped off his sneakers. “Yes, I know. Ma, have fun in Hong Kong.” He paused. “Huh? Wait a moment.” He lifted the phone from his ear and glanced behind me. “Who’s that?”

  “My friend,” I replied, defaulting to Cantonese too. I didn’t need Aiden to know he was being talked about. “I’m telling you now—don’t you dare ask him anything.”

  He rolled his eyes and passed me the phone. “Ma wants to talk to you.”

  I cupped the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Sere!” Mum yelled enthusiastically. “How is everything going at the bakery? Have you been remembering to order more eggs and checking how much flour we have left?”

  “Yes, Mum. Stop worrying.”

  “Okay, okay. You know how Aunty owns a grocery shop?”

  “Yeah.” What did that have to do with anything? I’d expected a full ambush with her asking me the specifics of what I’d done and hadn’t done. And why wasn’t she worrying about Ming too? Hadn’t Max told her? I eyed him warily. He stood next to Aiden, at the dining table, talking to him. I strained my ears to hear their conversation. I caught the words if I had known and thanks, but I couldn’t multitask as Mum prattled on.

  “Aunty says she has some spare bok choy not suitable for selling anymore, but still good for eating. She’ll bring them over soon. You can use them for dinner tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.” Mrs Wong’s small grocery shop was only a few blocks down from us, which meant we often got our Chinese vegetables and other food from her.

  Aiden’s signature chortling laughter usurped my attention back to him and my brother.

  “Who’s that laughing?” Mum asked.

  “My friend,” I said, feeding her the same line I’d given Max.

  “Oh yes! Aunty told me. She said your boyfriend was in the bakery. When did you get a boyfriend?”

  Of course Mrs Wong had told her that. The gossipy woman. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my friend.” I specifically said this in Cantonese so Aiden wouldn’t overhear.

  “But he’s a boy,” Mum said gleefully. I pictured her smug smile as she said it—one side of her mouth wrinkled. “Aunty told me he’s not Chinese. Do I know him?”

  I cringed. Thank goodness Mrs Wong hadn’t known who he was, or she would have dished the dirt to the whole world by now. “You’ve never met him.” Seeing him once on TV didn’t count, right? I imagined how much she would freak out if I told her he was a famous tennis player. Probably more freaked out than she’d been when Max had told her he’d asked Ming to be his girlfriend.

  Mum tried asking more about the mystery boy friend, but I managed to dodge her attempts until she changed the topic.

  Once she hung up, I handed Max back his phone, shooting him the evil eye. “Did you tell Mum about Ming being sick?”

  “No. Did you want her getting worried? Ming’s still not feeling much better. She said she’ll be taking tomorrow off too.”

  “Nooo,” I moaned. Just great. My body felt ready to collapse at the mere thought of the upcoming workload. “Then I’ll have to get up super early tomorrow to start prepping.”

  “About that.” Max slapped me on the back. “I have some good news.”

  “Good news?” My shoulders went taut. I wasn’t sure if my head could handle another bombshell surprise today.

  “Yep. My team finished all the urgent client work today, so my boss approved my annual leave. I’m off for the rest of this month. You’ll need all the help you can get since Ming is still sick.”

  “Thanks, Gor Gor!” No more worrying about the bakery’s workload alone. Thank goodness.

  Aiden exchanged a smile with me. “That’s great, Sere.”

  Yeah. Who would’ve known Max would be my new guardian angel in disguise?

  Chapter 17

  Ten minutes later, I opened the front door to the bakery, staring in confusion at the sight before me. When Mum said Mrs Wong was dropping by, I had actually expected to see…well, Mrs Wong. That was a mistake. I scrutinised the tall guy, with raven black hair, wearing a basketball jersey. From the translucent plastic bag with the hint of green dangling from his arm, I guessed he was here to deliver the bok choy in Mrs Wong’s place. I totally hadn’t seen this one coming.

  Mum: 1. Me: 0.

  “You’re Mrs Wong’s son, right? Ben?” All I remembered about him was that awkward time when he came to the bakery years ago. Seemed like we were about to have a belated round two full of awkwardness.

  Ben nodded. “Yep. Are you ready to go?”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “Uh.” He gave me an isn’t-it-obvious look. “Dessert?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Your mum said you’d be interested in having dessert with my family tonight, so…”

  It was like his words switched
on a light in my head. Everything became brilliantly clear—and embarrassing. “Oh my gosh, I never said that! She must be setting me up again!” I baulked at the curious looks a couple gave us as they passed by on the sidewalk.

  When I shifted my attention back to Ben, his head was bowed in shame. Probably a shame that came naturally with having a matchmaking, gossipy mum. “Sorry, I had no idea. Mum is…urgh.” He threw up his hands, the bag of veggies swinging.

  Urgh was right. Clearly I’d underestimated Mum’s and Mrs Wong’s scheming skills.

  “What’s going on?” I looked over my shoulder to see Aiden behind me. He’d somehow snuck up without me noticing.

  Ben’s eyes went as round as saucers. “Woah, are you—you’re Aiden Andale.”

  Aiden took a step closer to me. “Um, yeah. That’s me.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Is everything okay, Serendipity?”

  The way he said my name made it sound more like a melody than a terribly long name. I barely heard my own words over the galloping of my heart. “Yeah. There was just a misunderstanding.” Calm down, he only said your name and touched your shoulder. Two perfectly normal things. But my heart failed to slow it’s beating at my logical reasoning.

  Ben continued gawking at Aiden like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. I couldn’t blame him. I’d acted pretty much the exact same way this morning. “Can I have a selfie with you?”

  Okay, I was taking it back. I hadn’t acted like that; I wouldn’t have had the gall to ask for something so embarrassing as a selfie.

  Aiden’s hand fell from my shoulder, allowing me to breathe a little easier. “Sorry, man. Now’s not a good time.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. More like annoyed.

  “Oh, a-all right. Th-that’s okay,” Ben stammered. He disentangled the plastic bag full of veggies from his arm and shoved it into Aiden’s hands. “Here. This is for you. I mean”—his eyes darted to me—“for her.” He ducked his head. “I better go now. It was nice to meet you. Bye.” He took off down the street at neck-breaking speed. I peered outside just as he disappeared around the corner. Well, that was awkward.