He glanced at his phone, then at Mei's office uniform, the crisp white blouse, the long pale legs peeking out beneath the hem. Nothing attractive about it at all. Annoying.
No, the problem wasn't her clothes, it was her. Specifically, the fact that the moment he saw Mei's little face, the entire morning replayed in his mind: the kiss, her sleepy voice, and all the memories from before. Everything flooded back, how they used to kiss endlessly, hold each other tightly, whisper soft, stupid, sentimental things like I like you. I really like you. I want to be with you forever.
Those phrases felt childish now, but back then whether he said them or heard them, he meant every word. Both of them did. They were young, hopeful, and stupidly sincere.
Maybe that was exactly why they eventually broke up.
Otis remembered the first time he ever kissed Mei.
