You Out of Nowhere (Flair #1) by Jay E. Tria

Author:Jay E. Tria [Tria, Jay E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jay E. Tria

Kris

* * *

I got him a Christmas sweater.

I got us both Christmas sweaters. Couple sweaters made of the softest knitted wool, with reindeers stitched on the front, and HO! HO! HONEY! at the back. They were a loud, holiday red, and too thick and hot for even the coldest air-conditioned room back home. They might only be appropriate for a trip up the real Philippine North, in the mountain ranges, like Baguio or Sagada.

I didn’t know how it happened.

You know what, it happened like this.

After chicken and beer, Ringo decided he wanted to buy the stainless steel chopsticks and bowls his mother wanted, the ones she saw people eat with in TV dramas. His research had told him to find the goods in Insadong.

We took the train and got there easily enough, no getting lost, no incidents. We wove through the side streets past tea houses and Buddhist restaurants and shops selling hanboks and clay jars and oil paintings until he found a stall he liked, owned by a middle-aged lady who pinched his cheeks—both cheeks—a few minutes into our prowling of the tight aisles, crying “Aigoo, neomu gwiyeowo, aigoo.”

“That is a tita,” I’d whispered to him.

After that purchase, Ringo led us down more twisted streets, more threading alleys, the lights and colors and loud chatter and the haunting smell of spun sugar wafting from sweets stalls keeping us from minding the time and the dropping cold. He stopped us in front of a stall peddling scarves, knit gloves, and sweaters.

“My friend Anthony wants one of these,” he said, pulling a sweater from the rack and putting it up against him.

It was white and fluffy, with black pompoms of varying sizes stitched haphazardly over every few inches of knit. It was so ridiculous it was awesome.

“Oh my god, get him two. The gray one too, with the pink and blue pompoms.”

“I think I will.” Ringo laughed. I was starting to memorize the sound. I already have, if we really needed to be honest.

Pompom sweaters secured, his eyes returned to the colorful, garish display, entranced. “I’ve always wanted a Christmas sweater.”

“Then get one,” I said.

“It has to be two sweaters. I’ll look silly if I’m the only one wearing it.”

“Okay, buy for your sisters too.”

“They are too old for Christmas sweaters. You and I, however, have crossed over to the age of not caring if we looked cool to other people. One for you and one for me, please. You promised you’d buy me something nice.”

I made no such promise. But the sweaters were purchased for the obstinate birthday boy anyway.

“I think I’ll wear this to the office Christmas party.” Ringo held his sweater up against his broad chest, beaming like a kid on, what else, Christmas morning. “That place is cold enough for an Ice King. You should come and wear yours.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“We always have awesome games. Quiz night style. My team always wins.”

“Not surprised.”

“And we always have lechon.”

“No.”

“We can wear them on a trip to Baguio then.

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