Chapters (77)
- Cover
- Dedication
- 1
- 2
- A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part I
- 3
- The History of My Beef with Brynn Foer-Preston
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part I
- 8
- 9
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part I
- 10
- 11
- 12
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part II
- 13
- The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part II
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- The Complicated History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Imaginary Relationship with Her Nonexistent Dad
- 20
- 21
- 22
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part III
- 23
- 24
- 25
- A Brief, Backward History of the McAllister Family, as Paraphrased from the San Jose Mercury News
- 26
- 27
- 28
- A Quick and Eerily Relevant History of Asians in America
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part IV
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part II (Or Maybe It’s a Prequel)
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part III
- 54
- A Note from the Author
- Index of Flowers and their Meanings
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Praise for This Time Will Be Different
- Books by Misa Sugiura
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
Hannah wrote me and Owen a note to get us out of school, which, yeah, it’s wrong, but there’s no way she can handle Valentine’s Day all by herself. Owen’s been doing deliveries, and I’ve been filling orders in the back and serving customers in the front all day. No one’s had time to stop to eat lunch or dinner, or even a snack. There are two lemon LUNA bars and a box of stale crackers in the little food cabinet in the back room, but that’s it. Last year, Emily brought two dozen heart cookies and some day-old muffins, but today she’s been AWOL, so we’ve been left to starve because naturally neither Hannah nor I remembered to buy any extra food. By the time we finally usher the last desperate customer out and lock the doors at seven o’clock, I’m ravenous.
Hannah collapses onto her desk chair and groans, “God save me, CJ, I am wiped. Out.”
“I just want to eat a bowl of something warm and carby and fall into bed,” I add from the stool by the worktable, just as Owen returns from his last delivery.
“You’re in luck.” He holds up a white plastic takeout bag.
I leap up. “Please tell me you’ve got—”
“Ramen from Orenchi.” With a flourish and a smile, Owen extracts three Styrofoam containers. He bows and deposits them on the table next to me.
“Oh my god, bless you.” The thought of Orenchi ramen momentarily erases all my problems, and I fling my arms around Owen, who obligingly hugs me back. Then I grab my tonkotsu ramen with an extra boiled egg and extra sesame seeds—exactly how I like it—and dig in.
Owen hands Hannah a bowl of her favorite, shōyu ramen, and starts in on his own tonkotsu. He takes an enormous slurpy mouthful of noodles and murmurs, “Brains . . . ,” as he chews and lets the ends splash back into his bowl.
“Grow up,” I say, but I’m pretty sure he saw me grinning. It was such a stupid joke—I mean, what are we, twelve?—but this ramen is magic. It’s making me feel generous and forgiving: the Valentine’s Day Ramen Truce of 2019. Kidding aside, it’s a relief to let go of my resentment for a moment. No tension, no awkwardness. Just friends being friends. As familiar as comfort food and corny jokes.
As I watch Owen, I imagine his arm around my back, the way it was when I hugged him a second ago, imagine the gentle pressure of his hand on my waist. Hannah cracks a joke and he laughs, and for a moment it’s like the camera of my eyes can only see that strong jaw and those lips, and . . . Holy shit, am I fantasizing about kissing him?