Page 45 of A Banh Mi for Two
She nods, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and shouting back. “Let’s go over there.” She inclines her head toward a narrow alleyway with no vendors or shops, only dim light from the sunset and lanterns glowing through the vacant space.
I follow her. Following that warmth, that smile, and that girl who glows brighter than all the lanterns in the streets.
We’re alone now, just us in this alleyway. Our fingers are still intertwined with one another. She looks at me quizzically. I feel the heat on my face. The tightness in my throat. The drums in my chest.
The wind blows gently past us, and her baby strands dance around her face. I smooth them behind her ears again, letting my hand caress her cheeks softly, slowly. The air around us is dizzying, electrifying, and I find myself leaning in, my eyes tracing the outlines of her face. I realize right then and there that I want this, whatever this is, and I want her. My mouth parts lightly on impulse, and my eyes search for hers—for the confirmation that she wants this as much as I do.
A heartbeat passes between us.
Then two.
“Vivi—”
“Yes,” she answers, her eyelids fluttering as she closes the space between us. Her lips graze mine and fireworks explode in my brain. She arches her neck and I deepen the kiss, allowing her fingers to trail from my neck to my hair, and she tugs at my braid softly—heat rising from all the places that feel good.
My lips linger on hers, my breathing ragged as the urge to kiss her again and again overwhelms me. But before I can, Vivi speaks again. “I like you, Lan.”
I cradle her cheeks between my palms, thumb brushing over the dimples I’ve been dreaming about. “Say it again.”
She blushes profusely but doesn’t let go, only staring at me, anticipating. “I like you.”
“Again.”
“I like you so much,” she whispers.
I pull her toward my body, tilting her chin up. “How much is so much?”
“Like, a lot of bánh mì. A lifetime supply of bánh mì.”
Laughing, I tug her close and our lips collide together again. We pour ourselves into each other as the sunset bleeds into Sài Gòn’s skyline, two hearts beating louder than the bustling crowd of this city. Motorbikes are still blaring down the street, the sound of passersby echoing through the walls.
We stand there, heads on each other’s shoulders, savoring the warmth radiating off our bodies. She nods shyly toward the entrance of the alleyway. “Someone will catch us.”
I poke her nose lightly with mine and she laughs in my ear, a deep sound that rumbles through my core. “No one will care. Did you forget that it’s Sài Gòn?”
She pulls herself from my arms, flushed from head to toe. “For the record, I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
“You didn’t even daydream?”
“Maybe just a little bit,” she squeaks.
I pull her back into my arms and plant kisses all over her face. One for each moment that she’s made me happy, which is basically every moment that I’m with her. She leans into the kisses, returning the favor with her soft lips on mine. The smell of the Sài Gòn River clings to our clothes as we stay there in the alleyway, the glowing Trung Thu lanterns winking from above.
My Sài Gòn, I realize, is vibrant, full of life and, for me, full of love.
Chapter Twenty-TwoVIVI
All the movies and books prepare you for that kiss with the right person. That sparks will fly, and everything will feel right, they say. And God, how it felt so right with Lan. So much so that I didn’t expect the post-kiss effects: the restlessness that grips me because I can’t spend twenty-four seven with her, the way my mind only thinks of her, and how godawfully long it feels to wait for her when all I want to do is kiss her again and again and again.
A voice interrupts my thoughts. Finally. “Hey! Sorry, am I late?”
It’s like my blood starts pumping faster the moment I look at Lan, and suddenly, everything is right in the world. “No. I wasn’t waiting for long.” I stood there waiting for fifteen minutes, because I couldn’t wait to see her again.
She smiles, her hand grabbing mine naturally. “Ready for water puppetry?”
“A bit disappointed that it’s not street food related, but anywhere with you? I’ll be there.”
Inside the Golden Dragon Water Puppet Theater is an amphitheater decorated with golden dragons and red, silky brocades. Paper lanterns crowd the ceilings, illuminating our path toward the open pool in front of us. A pagoda looms behind the pool, its arch the shape of two dragons’ heads leaning together. Curtains with detailed embroidery of two dragons on each side and a sun in the middle create a backdrop for the stage. Around us, people float through the amphitheater, talking in a mix of Vietnamese and other languages.
