Chapter 4: The Hot Date

 

I’m going on a date with Om! 

 

Mick could barely conceal his glee. The senior had actually asked him out! Out! Somewhere! On a date!

 

Granted, he’d asked Mick to leave separately. And to not tell anybody about it. But still, it looked to be just the two of them, so that qualified as a date didn't it?

 

His mom hadn’t been happy to learn he was going back late. "I've already made lunch, Mick," she told him over the phone.

 

"I'm sorry mom, but, uh, they asked me to stay back to help out. I won't be too late, ok?"

 

"Okay, call me when you're done," she said. "I'll come and pick you up."

 

Mick sighed. His mother still treated him like he was 12 and needed constant looking after, but he just agreed and hung up, otherwise he'd never hear the end of it.

 

Actually, Mick wished he had time to go home and change and maybe do something about his hair. He hadn't expected to be out all day so he was still in a baggy PE t-shirt and oversized, bright blue shorts. They reached way past his knees and his mom had optimistically insisted he'd "grow into it" but Mick doubted he ever would. His hair was naturally a lighter shade of brown that the other boys liked to tease about, saying he spent more time in the salon with the girls than out playing football in the sun. Well, he hated football, or basketball, or any kind of sports, anyway, so they were at least half-correct about that. 

 

He waited impatiently at the Saphan Taksin BTS station for Om, until at last he spotted the tall figure of the senior walking towards him. He raised his hand to give a wave until he realised Om wasn’t alone. Three other boys were with him and Mick recognized them as other 9th graders from the music club, though they all belonged to a different classroom from him.

 

"Aw, Mick, what are you doing here alone? On your way home?" One of the boys raised his hand in greeting, whom Mick recognized as Loy, a tall boy who played the clarinet.

 

Mick waved at them, but looked at Om, unsure of what to say. 

 

"He's coming with me on an errand," Om said in a bored tone. 

 

"Oh p'Om! Aren't you afraid of-" 

 

"Shut your trap, Mum!" Om snapped at the chubby Chinese boy who spoke, the music club's flutist. "The same goes to all of you. If I even hear a word about this from Film I'll make sure all three of you get extra water duty for the rest of the year!"

 

The three of them started protesting loudly at Om while Mick shrank into himself even further, feeling more miserable than ever. Again, that thing with Film was making his life difficult. 

 

Why had Om showed up with them? The way he'd asked Mick to go out with him, he'd been so sure it was only going to be the two of them. They walked towards the trains as a group, the trio still crying foul over Om's clear abuse of power, but without any real animosity. It was clear that Om liked to make a lot of these threats without any follow up.

 

"P'Om doesn't dare to be that mean to me," Mum declared proudly. "He's afraid of my grandma."

 

"Your grandma loves me like one of her own, idiot," Om hit Mum lightly at the back of his head. "Don't forget she always saves me her famous braised duck whenever she makes it."

 

"Yeah but if you punish me I'm gonna tell her and she'll yell at you when she sees you!" He turned to Mick. "P'Om is my neighbor, see?" Mick just nodded dumbly.

 

"Why you little tattletale. Don't forget I have far more dirt on you than you can ever imagine. Why don't I tell your friends about the time you wore your sister's -"

 

Mum went red in the face and yelled loudly before Om could finish, trying to cover the older boys mouth with his hands but Om just dodged his pudgy hands easily. The rest of his friends doubled up, howling with laughter, begging Om to finish his story. Even Mick smiled broadly, looking on with amusement.

 

Saphan Taksin was at the end of the line, so an empty train pulled up and the boys piled into it, chattering noisily. The trio chose seats around Om, so Mick sat opposite them, watching quietly as Loy and Heng, the other flutist, tried to unearth more childhood dirt on their friend. Mum was seated on the far end, red-faced and arms crossed, promising death threats at Om. 

 

"Enough, enough, you guys are worse than the aunties at the floating market," Om said, standing up. "Where are you guys going anyway?"

 

"To Siam Square," Heng said.

 

"-To have lunch-" Loy added.

 

"-And check out the chicks!" Mum shouted, and the other two nodded eagerly at the last one. 

 

"Wanna join us, p'?"

 

"What the hell, you erts," Om shook his head before taking the seat next to Mick. "Well? Do you want to join the Three Stooges over there for lunch?" He asked the surprised 9th grader.

 

"I-its up to you, p'" Mick said, taken aback that he actually had a choice in this.

 

Om considered for a while. "Nah, you guys bore me. Go ahead and don't cause any trouble. I ain't bailing you guys out," Om said to them.

 

"Aw, p'Om just wants nong Mick allll too himself," Loy said teasingly, and Heng joined him in laughter, while Mick blushed, though he was secretly pleased. Om raised an angry hand but the train had stopped at a station and more people filled the train.

 

"So where are you guys going?" Mum asked innocently, but he was looking at Mick. Once again, Mick turned to Om with pleading eyes. "What's the matter, you're just gonna let p'Om do all the thinking for you?" Mum asked belligerently, looking from Mick to Om and back.

 

"Hey, hey, what's with the attitude, huh?" Om said warningly.

 

"Nothing, I'm just letting the newbie know - it's a mistake letting you do the thinking cos everyone knows you're brainless!" Mum cried, while the other two just laughed. "Spend more time with him, Mick and soon you'll be as brainless as he is, too!"

 

"Why you-" Om made to grab Mum, while the latter ran to the back of the coach, which was getting more crowded now. The train pulled up at the Siam station moments later and the three boys got ready to leave.

 

"This is our stop, goodbye lovebirds!" Loy said, and the other two joined him in making kissing sounds at Mick and Om as they ran out of the train.

 

"s," Om smiled at them, shaking his head. "Don't pay them any attention. They're a bad influence."

 

"Aw, I didn't mind them. They seemed really close," Mick said wistfully.

 

"Yeah they are. They do everything together, and that includes getting into a lot of trouble," Om said. "How about you? Don't you have friends to hang with? You were the only one in your class to join the club, weren't you?" 

 

"Yeah. I -uh, I got transferred here just last year so I don't know that many people yet," Mick confessed. He'd made some friends in his class, but no one he could really talk to or call best friends. He missed his friends in his old school; the ones at Friday College all seemed to be fantastically rich or talented, or both- while Mick was neither.

 

"Well, you've got the club now, and you're part of the family even if you don't know it," Om told him. "Just try and be more open and involved, and you'll soon have more friends than you can handle."

 

Mick doubted it, but he just nodded. He didn't want to be the one to tell him that one of his beloved club members might have been yesterday's bully. He was just glad to be alone in Om's company, even if he had no idea where Om was taking him, and he didn't want to spoil the mood.

 

The next stop was the last on the line, at the National Stadium. Mick followed Om out, squeezing through the crowded elevated walkways above Sukhumvit Road before arriving at a huge mall.

 

Mahboonkrong, or MBK Center as everyone called it, was a large, but older mall, though it still housed thousands of shops selling everything from clothes to furniture to electrical items and a huge departmental store. It wasn't as flashy as the newer malls surrounding it, but it was still a large draw for the local Bangkok citizens who knew where to go for a good deal. 

 

Om led Mick to the fourth level, which was the electronics section. Mick had never been to MBK before and he gaped at the sheer number of traders that took up the entire floor, each of them offering a mind-boggling array of goods and services from booths no wider than a shower cubicle.

 

"My cousin has a stall here, he can help you with your phone," Om said, picking his way through the maze of vendors with practiced ease.

 

"M-my phone? Oh you mean the screen!" Mick said, overjoyed.

 

"I'm not getting you a new one if that's what you're thinking. Oh here he is. Hey, hia Moon!"

 

"Nong Om! Long time no see, bro," an older guy turned to Om and they clasped hands and chatted. Eventually Om turned back and urged Mick to produce his phone.

 

"Yeah this is no problem," the older man said, inspecting Mick's phone. "Gimme maybe half an hour? Go for lunch and it'll be ready when you come back, Om."

 

"Thanks, hia! I really appreciate it," Om said. It was then that Mick noticed Moon's stall. It sold phones, but also advertised repair services. "Moon's Sales and Services - Nothing is so broken that we can't repair, with a little bit of time and baht" a banner proclaimed proudly.

 

"P'Om! Isn't that what you said-?" He picked at Om's sleeve, pointing at the tag line.

 

"Yes, that's where I got it from. What, you think I'm some kind of philosopher? I can't come up with like that by myself!" Om admitted freely. Mick just shook his head, feeling somewhat cheated. Still, he was happy that Om had taken the time and trouble to bring him here, even if it wasn't really a date.

 

"Let's go get lunch. The food court here's quite famous," Om said. 

 

"Okay!" Mick nodded. Now that's more like it, he thought.

 

Mick switched his phone off and left it with Om's cousin and they went up the escalators. Om ignored the fancy westernized food hall on the fifth floor, dismissing it as a tourist trap. He led Mick up one more floor up to the sixth, to a more unassuming one, which was already full of people ordering mostly local dishes. They loaded some prepaid cards with cash in preparation to buy food. No actual cash was accepted by the food handlers themselves as it was considered unhygienic, only the prepaid cards. The cards could be refunded for the full amount after the customers had eaten.

 

"I'm having the stir fried minced pork with sweet basil on rice," Om announced, rubbing his hands. "The auntie here makes it really spicy, just the way I like it."

 

Mick stepped up to the stall in question. "Two pad krapao moo please, auntie. Extra spicy!" He ordered, surprising Om.

 

"Oh are you sure you want it extra spicy, nong?" The lady in charge asked with an amused smile. "It's very hot, I'm not sure you can handle it."

 

"Wait, Mick, maybe you should order the normal one," Om cautioned. "You don't have to impress me, you know."

 

"Who said anything about impressing you? Maybe it's your turn to impress me, p'Om! " Mick raised an eyebrow at him, laughing at Om's stunned look before turning back to the lady. "Yes auntie, I love it hot."

 

"Oh you're such a cute little thing. I'll throw in a fried egg for you for free," she said, making Mick blush and grin while he thanked her and gave his card for her to deduct the amount.

 

"What about me, auntie?" Om interjected. "I want a free egg too!" He batted his lashes at her.

 

"5 baht!" She demanded promptly. "The nong in blue shorts still has a lot of growing up to do, while you're already big enough!" 

 

Mick laughed as Om protested against the clearly unfair treatment, but in the end he got his free egg as well. 

 

"I don't know how you do it so effortlessly, Mick," Om said, shaking his head as they carried their trays to an empty table in an isolated corner of the food court.

 

"Do what?" Mick asked innocently.

 

"There! That-that wide-eyed, clueless look that makes people just give in to you!" Om pointed. "And don't you dare blush and look away godammit."

 

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it," Mick said, blushing and picked at his food. "It's not always a good thing, you know." Sure, he got away with some stuff like charming old ladies into giving him a free egg, but it also got him into trouble with people who were jealous of the attention he got. 

 

"At first I used to think you were doing it on purpose, you know. Like, manipulating people and stuff," Om said. Mick raised his head, ready to protest. "But I know better now. You're really that idiotic and clueless. Haha!" 

 

Mick just stuck his tongue out at Om, but was secretly glad that Om didn't think so lowly of him. "P'Om do you want a drink? I'll go get us some."

 

"Do you want to make things interesting? Let's see who gives in to the spiciness first and has to order a drink. The loser has to pay for the winner!" Om grinned.

 

Mick was going to pay for the drinks anyway, but he just shrugged. "You're on, p'!"

 

They started on their rice, which was full of minced pork and basil, and bird's-eye chili and fresh green pepper stalks. Mick's eyes started to water almost immediately after the first mouthful. Om wasn't kidding about the heat. Mick was serious when he said he loved spicy food, but this was on a whole new level.

 

Om wasn't doing much better. Sweat poured down the older boy's face as he chewed happily. "Ready to -aahh- give up yet?" Om asked, sticking his tongue out.

 

"No, are -hssss- you?" Mick in air through his lips, trying to cool his own burning tongue. He felt his own sweat trickling down his neck and took out his handkerchief to dab at it. This was not his idea of a perfect date, but he was having fun nonetheless.

 

"Haha you're all cute and sweaty and pink!" Om laughed, taking out his phone. "Film would pay good money for this," he muttered as he took picture after picture over the younger boy's protests. ", Mick look at your lips!"

 

He showed Mick a photo of himself. His lips were almost double their usual size due to the heat from the spices. He felt his lips, and they did feel slightly swollen, and stretched, but that always happened when he ate spicy food anyway, although it did look slightly scary in the picture, as if he'd just had plastic surgery to plump his lips, which made him- with his pink, flushed face and large, teary eyes- look like a manga character.

 

"It's normal when I eat spicy food, p'," Mick said, but Om was already standing up.

 

"Wait a minute, I'll be right back!" Om practically ran to the drinks stall and hurriedly purchased two iced milk teas and an empty cup of ice cubes. Mick smiled to himself, and winced, as even the act of smiling caused his lips to feel tender. Maybe I really overdid it, he thought, fanning himself with his hands.

 

"Sip this," Om gave him a drink, which Mick gulped down gratefully. 

 

"How about you, p'Om?"

 

Om shook his head, frowning. "Stay right there," Om instructed, as the senior took out his own handkerchief and wrapped it around a large ice cube. To Mick's surprise Om sat beside him and lifted his chin with one hand while with the other, leaned close with the makeshift cold compress and rolled it gently onto Mick's lips.

 

", , , I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot for making you do this," Om said softly while shaking his head. "I don't know what I'm thinking sometimes. Are you okay?"

 

Mick's world fell away as Om continued to administer soothing cold to his reddened mouth. He felt Om's strong fingers brush against his face and he blinked slowly, hardly believing he was this near to Om yet again. Their faces were so close he could see Om's jaw set in determination as the senior continued to blame himself for Mick's condition. He felt a heat radiating from Om that had nothing to do with the spicy food they'd just eaten.

 

"Are you okay, Mick?" Om asked again, and Mick lifted his gaze to stare up at Om's concerned eyes. Without thinking, the younger boy raised his fingers and lightly touched the hand Om was using to lift Mick's chin. Om blinked, suddenly self-conscious. He let his hands fall from Mick's face, and pressed his sodden handkerchief onto Mick's palm.

 

"Here, you can do this yourself, can't you? I'm just- I'll just clear these trays and get a refund for these cards. Yeah," Om mumbled, and the flustered senior busied himself clearing the table of their lunch.

 

Mick fell back onto his seat, continuing to put Om's wet, cold hanky to his mouth. He couldn't believe it. He'd actually made Om Tatchakorn nervous. 

 

This was the best date ever.