Page 118 of Slapshot Baby

My mouth waters so hard I almost choke.

I pick up the phone, stare at the screen, and put it down then pick it up again.

I call Kai.

He answers on the second ring. He’s clear and alert, like he’s been awake.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I can't sleep and I need something."

"What do you need?"

"This is going to sound unhinged."

"Most things sound unhinged at this hour. What do you need, Ava?"

"Fresh mango with lime and Tajín. And I need it badly enough that I'm calling you instead of handling this like an adult."

Fabric shifts on his end. The sound of someone getting out of bed.

"I know a spot in Koreatown that's open late. They sell cut fruit outside."

"You know a spot." I smile, pressing my face into the pillow. "Of course you know a spot."

"I’ll be at your door in thirty minutes to an hour."

"Kai, you don't have to..."

"Expect me soon, Ava."

He hangs up.

I stare at the ceiling while my dog judges me from the foot of the bed.

"This is a fruit emergency," I tell Biscuit. "It's not romantic."

She barks then puts her head down with a sigh that sounds like disagreement.

In less time than expected, he's at my door holding a brown paper bag. A cutting board is tucked under his arm. He’s wearing joggers and a hoodie, his dark hair pushed back.

"You brought a cutting board."

"You wanted lime on it. I wasn't going to make you slice it yourself at two in the morning."

He walks into my kitchen and unpacks three mangos, a bag of limes, Tajín, and a container of something dark red.

"What's that?"

"Chamoy."

"I didn't ask for chamoy."

"You didn't know you wanted it."

He slices the mango, the knife moving through the flesh in straight lines. He fans the slices on a plate, squeezes lime, dusts Tajín, and drizzles chamoy in a thin line.

He slides the plate across the counter. The first bite makes my eyes close.