Victor: Her Ruthless Crush Theodora Taylor (fantasy books to read TXT) 📖

make up any little games to seal in what they'd learned. They didn't laugh as they went over the signs they exchanged, and there were no side conversations to provide context for all the new terms. And as for the fruit he'd had imported from California and several Asian regions, especially for their last tutoring session, it remained on the table between them. Untouched.

Other than that, she did an admirable job of transitioning from their infuriating conversation.

Victor wished he could say the same. He barely managed to keep the rage boiling inside of him in check. He performed several signs incorrectly. It was difficult to focus on anything outside of the maah lat gwai who had dared to touch her.

Finally, she spoke-signed, “I don’t think either of us is up for concentrating right now. I should get home anyway. Byron probably let my parents know that I didn't get here on time. But if I'm too late, they’ll worry about me.”

Victor took note of the ASL sign for WORRY… and the fact that they never exchanged signs for the word as she'd suggested earlier.

“Donny will walk with you to the station,” he signed.

“He really doesn’t have to, especially after I stood him up earlier….”

Victor abruptly stood up from the table and signed even more forcefully, “Donny will walk with you to the station.”

“Okay, thanks,” she mumbled-signed before standing up as well.

As usual, an awkward silence dropped down between them when the lesson ended, and it was time to say goodbye. This hadn’t changed, even though she’d been tutoring him for over three months.

“Where’s Ayane?” she asked, looking toward Victor’s still closed door. “Usually, she’s here by now, right?”

“I canceled our date when I thought I would be going to Adachi-ku,” Victor answered.

She shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with the lapel of her uniform jacket. “Again, I’m so sorry about not showing up on time.”

It wasn’t her fault. But if he thought too hard about that, he wouldn’t be able to maintain that mask he’d pasted over his rage. So another awkward silence descended.

“Has your father said anything to you yet about coming back next year?” she asked, changing the subject.

That wasn't his father's way. Since Victor couldn't talk outside of texting on the phone, Raymond rarely communicated with him between visits. And as for his decisions—those were exclusively announced in person, usually with a formal meeting in his office at their Hong Kong estate.

Victor answered her with the simplest version of the truth. “I don't think I'll be coming back.”

Then he held out the usual golden envelope filled with money for her tutoring fees.

“Oh, okay. So I guess this is really goodbye.” She looked down before Victor could assess how she felt about the possibility of never seeing him again.

“I…um…” One of her dark, wild curls had come out of her braided ponytail. She pushed it behind her ear and started signing in the mashup of ASL and CSL that she used whenever she had a lot to say. “I wanted to thank you. Tutoring you was really fun. Like, totally the highlight of all my weeks this term. And I just thought you should know that you truly helped me. The money I made from this job—wow, I've never told anybody this before, but seeing as how this is our last goodbye, I’ll tell you my big secret…”

Victor’s heart stopped beating at the word “secret.”

But then, she picked up her backpack and pulled out an oversized leather binder. “So this was one of the things I bought with the money I made. It’s called a portfolio in English—it’s kind of like a place to collect your best art.”

She held it out to him.

So her secret was not what he’d wondered…but hadn’t dared to hope. His heart vibrated, not knowing whether to sink or settle.

But he took the portfolio and opened it up to be polite.

The artwork he found inside impressed him more than he expected. A sketch of three girls in uniform, walking home from school. Only two of the girls were talking. The other was taking a shot of herself with her camera phone.

Next came a watercolor of a neighborhood from the view of someone emerging from a station. Tonight was the closest he’d ever come to traveling to Adachi-ku, but he assumed this was a rendering of the ward where she lived. It was painted with the warm colors of someone coming home. He was no expert, and maybe he was biased, but as he flipped through the portfolio, it struck him as quite good. There were even a few comics—little slice-of-life stories about being a Black American in Japan.

“I'm not done with the full portfolio yet,” she said when he made it to a sepia portrait of the Shibuya Crossing.

Shibuya was one of the most famously busy intersections in Japan. But she’d drawn each person scrambling to cross with the four-way light with care as if each of them mattered.

“Rhode Island School of Design—that’s the art school I’m secretly applying to—but the kids that go there call it RhIDS.” She leaned forward as she told him this as if this was the biggest secret she’d ever spilled. “They’ve got this new animation program, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I mean, how cool would it be to tell moving stories through art? Anyway, they want personal work, but they have these assignments you have to do, too. So I’ve got a whole bunch of things I still need to get done over the holiday break. But the one after Shibuya Cross, that’s for you.”

She dipped her head and pushed the errant curl behind her ear again. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me—even if you didn’t know ‘til now that you’d done it.”

As fascinating as her interpretation of the Shibuya Crossing picture was, Victor immediately flipped to the last piece in the portfolio to see what she had made for him.

It was a picture of him and Han fighting with