No, she couldn’t do it.

She wasn’t Lydia. That much she was sure of.

If he wanted to pursue her, then he would. He had her phone number after all. She shouldn’t expect more than that while meeting for the first time even if some intense energy was coursing between them.

“I appreciate it.” She grabbed her bag out of his hand. “I didn’t mean to keep you from wherever you were off to in a rush.”

“Oh, right,” he said as if he had just remembered that the only reason they were talking was because he had nearly slammed the door into her. “Well, I hope you feel better. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Is that an invitation?

“Sure. I’d like that,” she said with a winning smile.

His eyes met hers again, and she felt her stomach do a full-on somersault. Her smile widened, and she looked at him through hooded eyes and dark black lashes. If Preston didn’t know she was interested at this point, then he was the most oblivious man on the planet.

He looked as if he were debating on saying something more. Instead, he finally took a step backward and nodded his head. “It was nice meeting you, Trihn. Let me know about that shoulder.”

“Will do,” she murmured.

As he jogged down the stairs and out of sight, she sighed heavily, losing the bounce in her step from earlier. Damn, maybe I should have just asked him out.

At least next year, there would be plenty of hot guys in the city to go out with. She had just graduated from high school last weekend and would be at NYU starting in September. No need to rush into anything.

She couldn’t help the pang of disappointment anyway.

Oh, well.

Next year.

TRIHN TRUDGED UP THE STAIRS to Lydia’s second-floor apartment. She knocked on the door and waited impatiently, still on edge about what had just transpired.

How come I could flirt with half a dozen guys in other countries when I was modeling but not have one reasonable conversation with a hot guy I can actually date?

It was so frustrating. This was why she didn’t bother with this shit. Maybe the language barrier was better. Kissing had made so much more sense to her in other countries where the guys all spoke half-coherent broken English.

The door popped open, and Lydia’s glowing face smiled back at her. “Trihn!” she cried. “There you are! I didn’t know if you would still be coming over before dance!”

“Yeah, sorry. I got held up,” Trihn said dismissively.

No point in telling her what had happened. Lydia never would have let Preston get away without a promise of a future meeting.

“Well, get your ass in here. I just had an epiphany about the living room for when you move in!” Lydia said.

Trihn laughed as she followed her sister. “When did you die your hair blonde?”

Lydia shrugged. “Two days ago?”

Of course.

Lydia would change her hair color with her mood, just like how she’d change the guy she was seeing.

Even though they were sisters, they couldn’t be more different. Trihn and Lydia had acquired different marks from their parents’ mixed ancestry—Vietnamese, Brazilian, and a melting pot of European roots. Trihn was tall, lean, and exotic with high cheekbones, green eyes that slanted upward at the corners just like her mother’s, and her dark-as-night natural hair. Lydia looked more like their father. She was of medium height with dark brown eyes with gold rings and hair that she always parted down the middle. She was energetic, drew all manner of people to her like no one else Trihn had ever met, and had a proclivity for eccentricity.

Trihn usually just called her a hippie to get on her nerves, but today, with the new blonde look, long maroon skirt, and crocheted cream crop, she looked every inch the hippie. Trihn had always been more of a rocker, like how she looked now in the shortest high-waist cutoff jeans she owned, a studded sheer black top, and sky-high designer heels. Yet they were sisters, and for that reason alone, their differences never mattered.

“What epiphany did you have?” Trihn asked. She tossed her dance bag down on the couch and moved her shoulder. It was still hurting. She immediately started doing stretches to try to work out the pain.

“Okay, so I was thinking that once you move in, we could collage this entire wall,” Lydia said, spreading her arms wide. “We could put up pictures from my photography classes and your fashion projects. Oh, modeling shots! We could even do a dance shoot. I’m sure I have my old pointe shoes around here somewhere.”

Lydia disappeared into her room to look for her toe shoes from when she had been a part of the NYC Dance House as well. Trihn just shook her head and followed after her. She plopped down on Lydia’s bed that basically touched the ground.

“Here they are!”

“Ly,” Trihn said, “we have three months to figure out how we’re going to decorate. Shouldn’t we just wait until Tasha moves out? Then, I could move in what I have, and we could see what we actually need.”

Lydia’s shoulders dropped dramatically as she sighed. She tossed the shoes onto her cluttered desk. “Please, Trihn, try to have less enthusiasm about the fact that we’re going to have the coolest apartment in all of Manhattan in a few months.”

“I’m excited. It’s just not happening yet. We both have other things to worry about until then.”

“What do I have to worry about? I have the summer off!” Lydia proclaimed.

“Aren’t you interning?”

Lydia brushed her hair over one shoulder and smiled forlornly. “Right, I’m interning at a fashion magazine in the photography department. It’s just what I’ve always wanted to do…to follow in Mom and Dad’s footsteps.”

That was how their parents had met in the first place. Their mother had been the head of acquisitions for the fashion magazine where their father had sold his work to at the time. Their mom had pulled a lot of strings to get Lydia this opportunity. Of course, she was being blasé about it and would rather spend the summer working on her art.

“It’s a great opportunity.”

“Whatever. Tell me about you! Are you excited about the Senior Showcase?” Lydia asked. Her voice filled with longing. “I so wish I were still in the company.”

“Well, I’ll never outshine you. That’s for sure. We both know that you were always better at ballet than I was.”

“But you love it more,” Lydia conceded.

Trihn smiled brightly. She had always loved dance in all forms. The company focused so much energy on ballet, but she was excited that her dance for Senior Showcase was going to be a contemporary piece from her favorite choreographer at the studio. She would leave it to her best friend, Renée, to perform the beautiful ballet solo.

“I just can’t believe that it will all be over in two weeks,” Trihn said.

“Then, you can spend the whole summer with me.”

“Aren’t you going to be swamped?”

Lydia was such a dreamer. Trihn swore that if Lydia didn’t have to work, she would spend the rest of her life daydreaming, writing poetry, growing a garden, and drinking.

“Oh, right. Work.” She stuck her tongue out and made a face. “Well, that just means you have to find a hot guy to spend all your time with.”

Lydia winked at her, and Trihn’s mind immediately went to Preston. It wasn’t as if he were the only guy in the city she would be interested in. He was just the most relevant at the current moment.

I do have his number. Maybe I should try to reach out to him…

“Maybe, Lydia.”

“Maybe, maybe. Always maybe, baby. You need to get out more and date,” Lydia said. She plopped down onto the bed next to Trihn and started braiding her hair without asking if it was all right.