Chasing Fireflies (Power of the Matchmaker)

by Taylor Dean

  “If you don’t tell me, I will die.”

  I laugh again before I can explain. Julian makes me laugh—and I like it. “Lori and I were in the middle of a meeting, discussing lesson plans. He walked into the room, handed her a single fresh flower and said, ‘This smells as good as you.’ It would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t so . . . so . . .”

  “Over the top?”

  “Yes. I feel like I shouldn’t even look their way.”

  “They make my eyes burn,” he says as he runs one hand over his face.

  I laugh again and wonder if I’m being too giggly. I can’t help it. His slightly snarky sense of humor makes my heart happy. He makes life feel as though it isn’t quite as serious as I’ve made it out to be lately. His attitude happens to be just what I need.

  “You won’t hear the Chinese brag about each other the way Jason and Lori do. It would be considered egotistical.”

  “Even I find it a bit narcissistic.”

  “I think we all do. The Chinese use humble words when referring to themselves or others. It’s another sign of modesty. Most of the terms from years ago have fallen out of use nowadays. But every once in a while you hear one being used.”

  “Like what?”

  “Old people will refer to themselves as ‘this old and rotting one.’ Or sometimes you hear men say, ‘this unintelligent one’ or ‘this inferior one.’ Every now and then you hear men refer to their wives as ‘that clumsy thorn’ or ‘that worthless one inside.’”

  The worthless one inside. I don’t like that saying. Not at all. I wouldn’t like being referred to in such a manner, no matter how humble it made my husband appear.

  Julian raises his eyebrows. “You’re offended?”

  “I wouldn’t like that,” I say quietly. It hits a little too close to home.

  “No, I wouldn’t like being referred to as ‘that clumsy man’ as wives sometimes refer to their husbands. It’s not for me. There is one reference I like however.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “To show respect when addressing an important person they say, ‘I am beneath your pavilion.’ At least that’s what it means when literally translated. To my way of thinking, it holds a deeper meaning than some of the other terms.”

  “It almost has a certain romantic connotation to it.”

  He looks unswervingly into my eyes and it’s as if he can see into my soul. I avert my gaze. I’ve done really well at combating my shyness, but it overcomes me and I stare down at my plate.

  “Yes, I suppose it does,” he says.

  I force myself to look up at him again and we share a leisurely smile. The lights twinkle behind him and one thought invades my senses.

  This night is magical.

  Chapter Sixteen

  September

  I KNOCK ON Hunter’s apartment door. At nine in the morning, he ought to be up.

  The door opens and Hunter stands there with bleary eyes. “Hey, Savannah. What’s up?”

  “You look as though you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  He rubs his eyes. “I stayed up working on my next article. I only got a few hours of sleep.”

  Hunter is a good looking kid—actually he isn’t a kid at all, but something about him makes me think of him as a kid. His youthful looks make him seem as though he’s perpetually eighteen.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Oh yeah, sure. I was just preparing for my lesson today, but I keep dozing off.”

  I wander around for a moment, taking in his apartment. Clothes are strewn about, the beds are unmade, and the desk is cluttered with papers. Empty food containers and wrappers litter several surfaces.

  “You and your roommate are slobs,” I say.

  “Ever seen a baby calf trying to stand for the first time? That’s my roommate getting out of bed in the morning. I’m lucky he ever leaves his bed.” He studies me through worried eyes. “Why are you here, Savannah? I’m pretty sure you didn’t come to comment on my lack of cleanliness.”

  “No, I didn’t. Actually, I told Lori I would speak with you.”

  “About what?” he asks. But his expression becomes guarded and it’s obvious he knows.

  “Curfew. Is it true you recently stayed out all night?”

  I immediately lose eye contact with him.

  Then his chin juts forward with renewed confidence and he says, “Yes.”

  “Look, Hunter, you’re a grown man and I didn’t come here to tell you what to do with your life, but if you don’t make curfew, Lori has to report you. She’s responsible for our whereabouts. She needs to ensure we’re safe during our stay here. She needs to know that we come home every night and that we haven’t been kidnapped or hurt in some way. It’s a safety thing. No one wants to dictate your life.”

  “I know and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “Can I ask you something personal?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  Hunter collapses onto his bed, holding his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. “Yes. I’m so in love with her it hurts. I can’t think of anything else. I want to spend every second with her and I’m miserable when we’re apart.”

  Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. I envy him for finding love.

  “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t know why she likes me. I’m just a kid. But she does. She loves me too. And . . . well, I’ve never experienced . . . I mean, she makes me feel so . . .”

  I interrupt him, not wanting to hear any more details. “I’m happy for you, Hunter. Just make curfew, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks for talking to me. I would’ve been defensive if it had been Lori. I mean, she’s nice and all, but . . .”

  “I know.” Something is bothering me and it suddenly dawns on me what it is. “Hunter, you seem a little tortured. Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “I’m okay. This woman has just really gotten under my skin, you know? She’s really pushing me to write these articles and to make something of my life. To be honest, it’s a lot of pressure.”

  It sounds as though she’s trying to change him and that’s never a good foundation for a relationship. “I’m here for you if you need me, okay? You’re not alone.”

  “Thanks, Savannah.”

  I glance down at the leather bound journal on Hunter’s desk. His initials are beautifully embossed on the cover. P. Hunter Jacobson.

  I freeze, suddenly feeling as though I can’t get enough oxygen in my lungs. “P. Hunter Jacobson? What’s the P stand for?”

  “Paul. I hate that name. I’ve always gone by Hunter.”

  Momentarily paralyzed, I say nothing, my mind whirling. His name is Paul. All this time he’s been right in front of me and I didn’t even notice. How could I have been so unobservant, so blind?

  But . . . if he’s the Paul I’ve been looking for, it’s already too late. He’s in love with someone else.

  “Savannah? You okay?”

  It takes me a minute to compose myself. “Yeah. I’m fine.” I look upon him with eyes that suddenly see more than I ever have before. He’s tall and well built. His blond hair and brown eyes really make for a striking combination. He’s funny and kind and an all around good kid.

  Kid. That’s the problem. I look upon him as a kid. Which is ridiculous since he’s only two years younger than me.

  He isn’t the Paul I’m looking for. He can’t be. And if he is, the waters have already been muddied and we’ve ruined any chances of ever coming together.

  But if I’d known his name was Paul, things might’ve been very different.

  My eyebrows furrow as I ponder over that thought.

  Maybe.

  Chapter Seventeen

  September

  “WHERE ARE WE going again?” I ask.

  “It’s called ‘drifting’ and you’ll get a kick out of it. I promise,” Julian says with a secretive smile.

  He invited all of us
to go on an outing together. He’s driving the van that belongs to the restaurant. As we’d all begun to climb in this morning, he’d yelled, “Savannah gets shotgun.” Dakota had shot me a wide grin.

  “I need someone to keep me awake for the drive,” he’d clarified when Stacy started to object. Evidently the idea of having to talk for three hours gave her pause.

  When I told Dakota what Julian had done for me the other night, she’d insisted that Julian had a “thing” for me.

  “He likes you, Savannah. It’s kinda obvious.”

  “He was trying to cheer me up. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It might,” Dakota had insisted.

  I have to admit, it might.

  If he does indeed have a “thing” for me, he seems to be biding his time, moving slowly, allowing me time to get over the fiasco of Paul Brooks. Instead of asking me on a date to go ‘drifting,’ he’d asked the entire group, which suits me perfectly.

  Or he’s just being nice. Maybe that’s why we’re on a group date and not a single date. I’m not exactly sure where his intentions lie.

  Besides his name isn’t Paul, so it doesn’t matter. He can’t be the one for me.

  But the man who is named Paul turned out to be all wrong for me. And Hunter . . . that bridge has been burned and is now a pile of ashes. He’s taken and there’s no going back.

  Maybe I should forget about my search for Paul and move on with my life.

  Can I let it all go? I’m not sure. I’ve held onto it for so long, it’s a part of me, deeply embedded into my soul.

  One thing I do know for sure; I like Julian. A lot. Maybe too much.

  Julian told us to bring our bathing suits and a towel and I have no idea what to expect. I’m glad September still feels like summer though. Otherwise a day in the water would not be fun.

  “Do you do this for all of the American teachers at Zhongshan Academy?” I ask. It’s hard to keep my focus on the road. My eyes keep wandering to Julian.

  “I try to plan a few activities with every group that arrives. It’s nice to spend time with Americans for a change of pace. Makes me feel close to home.”

  “Do you date the female teachers?” I ask bluntly. Maybe he doesn’t like commitment and knows the female teachers are safe since they’ll only be in China for four months. I don’t think he’s that type of guy though. Still, after my experience with Paul Brooks, I want to know what to expect from him.

  “I date on occasion, both American girls and Chinese girls. Nothing serious. None of them have been the one.”

  “I thought you said you found the love of your life, but she doesn’t know it yet,” I say, teasing him.

  “She doesn’t.”

  I swallow through a suddenly dry throat. He says nothing more and I don’t ask. Last time he’d insinuated it was me, hadn’t he? Surely he was just kidding around. I decide to leave that topic alone. Instead I ask, “How long do you plan to stay in China?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  “Will you ever go home?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Just depends.”

  The thought bothers me a little and I don’t know why.

  Everyone in the back of the van falls asleep and it feels as though it’s just me and Julian for the day. I kind of wish it was. The thought surprises me.

  We spend the three hour van ride engaged in light conversation. We share a few childhood stories and a few embarrassing moments. We speak of favorite TV shows and movies. I tell him about losing my mom and dad and he commiserates with me. We share humorous stories about our siblings and laugh until our sides hurt. I enjoy the easy flow of conversation. I forget to feel tongue tied and somewhere along the line lose my inhibitions. I don’t even feel like joining the others for an afternoon nap. The desire to continue the conversation with Julian surprises me. Normally I’d be chomping at the bit for a break from all the socializing.

  “How did you get into cooking?” I ask him, curious.

  “My mom was an amazing cook. She taught me. Mr. Tang taught me everything about Chinese cooking and I taught him about American cuisine.”

  “No culinary school?”

  “Nope. Just have a knack for it I guess.”

  “Your wife will be one lucky lady.”

  “You think so?”

  “There’s something about a man doing all the cooking . . .” I don’t finish my sentence. While I’d been absorbed with overwhelming emotions over Paul Brooks during the cooking demonstration on dumplings, it hadn’t escaped my notice that watching a good looking man cook was . . . engaging. Maybe even downright charming. Okay, I admit, it was out-and-out sexy.

  “Remind me to cook for you more often,” he says under his breath.

  I hide a smile.

  We arrive in a remote area that reminds me of a jungle. Hidden away inside is a beautiful resort. To spend the day here costs only twenty American dollars.

  I soon find out what “drifting” is. It’s river rafting on a slow, lazy river that has occasional easy rapids. Each group is given a raft and each person is given a life jacket, a helmet, and a small metal bucket.

  “What’s the bucket for?” Lori asks.

  “It’s to dump water on each other. Just for fun.” Julian grins. “The day just got interesting, right?”

  Okay. Maybe weird is a little more apt.

  Then Julian looks directly at me and says, “Partners?”

  Never mind, the day just got interesting. I know my face turns red. Something stirs in my chest I’ve never really felt before. It’s a strange sensation, but not unpleasant. I want to be with Julian. I love his company. So I say, “Okay.”

  Hunter and Dakota team up. Which leaves Stacy with only one option: join Jason and Lori in an odd threesome.

  “This part of China doesn’t see many foreigners,” Julian tells us. “Don’t be surprised if people stare.”

  “How’d you find out about it?” Hunter asks.

  “Our Native Coordinators took us here on a day trip.”

  Julian isn’t kidding. Many of the Chinese do a double take when they see a group of Americans.

  “How do we get back here after rafting down the river?” Stacy asks with a worried frown.

  “A bus will meet us and bring us back,” explains Julian.

  We change into our bathing suits and when I emerge, Julian is waiting for me, wearing board shorts and looking like he belongs on a tropical island.

  Julian places the life jacket over my shoulders and begins to latch it for me as if I can’t do it myself. I let him—I don’t mind being close to him. “It’s gonna be a little crazy out there. You ready for this?”

  His breath is sweet and I find myself wanting to close the space between us. “I’m not so sure about the buckets and helmets.”

  “That’s what makes this crazy.”

  When Jason comes out wearing a speedo, Julian rolls his eyes and says, “Really? I can’t take it anymore. He is dead to me.”

  We hide our laughter while adjusting our helmets. Amidst it all, Lori whistles at her husband and tells him he looks amazing. Everyone cringes. Everyone.

  “Let’s do this,” Julian says.

  I follow his lead, feeling light and happy. Julian has that effect on me and I like how I feel when I’m with him. Life just feels different with him and everything seems humorous. I could get used to feeling this way.

  We all enter the water at once and begin to float down the river. At first it’s relaxing. My legs intertwine with Julian’s in a not unpleasant way, the sun beats down on our skin, and the surrounding foliage is like a balm for sore eyes.

  “This is nice,” I say.

  “Calm before the storm,” Julian responds. “I hope you don’t label this as the worst date you’ve ever been on.”

  “Is this a date?”

  “Freudian slip. I know you’re not ready to date after what you just went through. I figured a group outing would be best.”

  “Very sneaky, Mr. Pow Pow.” Doe
s that mean he’s interested? All signs point toward that conclusion.

  “Please don’t call me that. Just between you and me, I really hate that nickname.”

  “It’s kinda cute.”

  “In that case, call me that whenever you want.”

  Just then, a raft from downriver that has clearly gained a lot of momentum approaches. As they pass, they flood Stacy with a bucketful of water while the perpetrator yells, “Hello! How are you? I love you!” while laughing hysterically.

  She shrieks as though she’s just been stabbed.

  Julian chuckles. “Around here they only know strings of memorized English phrases.” His eyes wander to the right of me. “Look out!”

  A stream of cold water rushes over me, taking my breath away. I hear the metal bucket clank against my helmet and suddenly feel very thankful I’m wearing it.

  “Have a good day!” the person responsible yells.

  Hunter gets nailed next, followed by a “What is your name?” Then Lori. Then Jason. Then Dakota and Julian. After someone douses water on Julian, I hear, “Open the door!”

  Julian wipes his face with his hands and explains, “They don’t understand which memorized phrases work for different situations.”

  I lose it and crack up over that one.

  Pretty soon we realize the Americans are under attack. We’re such a novelty in the area, we’ve become the target. The Chinese surrounding us seem suspiciously dry, while we’re all soaked.

  Julian catches on at the same time as me. “What’s wrong with this picture?” he says.

  Hunter and Dakota’s raft sweeps by us. “Let’s get ‘em,” he shouts.

  We spend the next hour dumping water on everyone we pass, giving just as good as we get.

  Jason, Lori, and Stacy are clearly after their revenge as they yell, “In the name of America!” after every dump of water and Julian cringes each time.

  “PDA?” I say and he agrees with a nod.

  It’s the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. In the end, I’m soaked, tired, and my stomach hurts from laughing.

  We reach a lazy portion of the river, and settle down for a much needed break.

  “Worst date ever?” Julian questions.