Boba, Beauty and Backgrounds

Act cool. Ryyang pulled his classic move of glancing up at the large, brightly colored menu, acting like he came in with no preference but in reality knew exactly what drink he wanted. Brown Sugar Creme Brulee, 100% sweetness with boba.

“Hello! Welcome in! What can I get for you?” the boba barista chirped in rapid fire.

“Hi, um,” Ryyang turned to the counter, only to lose his train of thought to a flurry of butterflies. In front of Ryyang was a ray of sunshine. She sported the cutest smile he has ever been graced by, radiating more warmth than the Florida sun on a blistering summer day. She had such a beautiful energy to her, a sacred mixture of confidence and kindness that was all too rare nowadays.

“Oh!” the cute boba barista exclaimed, interrupted Ryyang’s internal monologue, “I like your outfit! It’s giving-” she thought for a moment, the little wrinkling of her face giving away her intense mental gymnastics– “It’s giving international Chinese student who wants to flex his foreign streetwear.” She gestured at the Chinese brand of his yellow racing shirt and the gray baggy shorts he wore.

“Oh, thank y–,” Ryyang broke off. “Wait, that’s a compliment, right?” 

“I’ll let you guess.” She quickly winked and laughed, before glancing at the menu, then at Ryyang, and back at the menu again. “Would you like a recommendation?” 

On a normal day, Ryyang, who regularly frequented the boba shops by his campus, would’ve taken offense to this, but he felt inclined to take this girl’s advice. “Sure, what do you suggest?” he said with a smile, feeling oddly nervous at a boba shop of all places. The boba barista quickly looked him up and down. 

“Well, you do seem like a fan of aesthetics,” she began, which scored her Ryyang’s honest smile, “so I would have to suggest our Brown Sugar Crème Brûlée, with Boba.”

“You just read my mind.” Ryyang smirked. “I’ll take one of those dine-in.”

“So you wanna stick around and chat with me, huh?” she said from behind the counter, skillfully tapping away at the screen of the shop’s payment service.

“Since you’re offering, I don’t see why not.” Ryyang felt daring in his flirtatious endeavors.

She just chuckled, the sound following Ryyang as he found a seat at one of the many two-seater tables lining the stark white walls of the empty cafe. He carefully laid his tote bag on the open table in front of him, took out his computer, then opened up his two current projects-a case study on the People’s Republic of China and a presentation for a Filipino conference he would be speaking at.

A few minutes later, the boba barista interrupted Ryyang’s storm of typing to bring him his drink. “Here you gooo,” she handed him his boba cup, feeling sparks fly as their fingers briefly touched, until they were jerked back to reality when her thumb briefly caught on the jade ring Ryyang wore on his index finger. “Oh my—I am so sorry,” lifting her hands up and covering her face in shame. 

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize,” Ryyang said softly, doing his best to ease her mind. “Even if it fell, I’m sure it would be fine–it had to survive a dozen generations to get to me,” he quipped, smiling at his own joke. 

She wore her frown for a bit longer before nodding and sitting down, when it suddenly dawned on her that she had yet to introduce herself. “I’m Paya by the way.” She smiled, contemplating on extending her hand for a formal greeting.

“I’m Ryyang,” he responded, obviously content without the traditional Western greeting. “By the way…what kind of Asian are you?” He asked, before cringing and cutting himself off to explain. “Sor-sorry, I’m just so used to asking people when I meet them at Asian organization events at school, I probably sound-” 

He was cut off by her sweet voice. “Don’t even, we have the right to say things like that,” Paya laughed, and Ryyang was glad she wasn’t offended. “And I’m Chinese, for your information. You?”

“I’m half-Chinese, half-Filipino,” Ryyang answered, excited because 50% of himself was held in common with Paya. “Ni jiang zhongwen ma?” Using his mother tongue, he asked if she also spoke Mandarin.

“Wo hui jiang,” she replied, fluidly switching languages to tell him that she could speak it, her face lighting up with every syllable, as her brain cells were speeding and her heart raced even faster.

“Woah, most Chinese I meet aren’t fluent, especially those bo–. Wait, born here or in China?” 

“Born here– but you think my Mandarin can pass for a native speaker? I’m honored,” she chuckled and placed her hand over her heart.

“Definitely,” Ryyang smiled, “but my words don’t matter, I can’t actually speak that much.” He pursed his lips slightly at his admittance of cultural out-of-touch-ness. At one point in life, Ryyang flaunted his disconnect from Asian culture to blend in more. But in recent years, he realized the error of this mentality and started working overboard to counter it.

“Better now than never. I assume you didn’t grow up in a large Asian community?”

“Sadly not, but it’s also on me for not practicing. There was a period of time when I wanted to distance myself from my culture, and now, I feel like I’m a bit too culturally intouch,” Ryyang laughed as he pointed at his boba tea earrings, boba necklace, and the Chinese shirt he wore.

“Aw, well I don’t think being very involved with your culture is a bad thing. Especially since you mention how it wasn’t always this way.” Paya tried her best to provide comfort.

“Yeah, but–” Ryyang scrambled for words, before admitting defeat– “Actually, you’re not wrong at all.”

“That’s usually the case.” She briefly stuck her tongue out before seamlessly switching back to philosophy and wisdom. “But jokes aside, I think it’s nice that you are involved in your culture. Us minorities already go through enough externally, so having internal unity is wonderful.”

“Yeah…,” Ryyang nodded along as the piece of wisdom escaping Paya’s lips caught him off guard–not because cute boba baristas couldn’t be philosophical, but because their conversation that had begun with aesthetic outfits and cute accessories had experienced such a notable switch in gravity. “I just get so insecure about how I appear to others, whether I’m feeling extra Asian or the opposite. Also, it means a lot coming from someone I just met, so thank you for that,” he said.

“I’m glad I could help you realize that. You’re not that bad at all, ” Paya smiled and batted her eyes, only to be interrupted by the chime of the shop’s door. “Sorry!” She dashed back to the counter to greet the large group. 

Meanwhile, Ryyang glanced at his computer screen, suddenly noticing that his laptop had died during their conversation. This forced Ryyang to come to the painful realization that rushing home–since he had forgotten to pack his charger–would be the wise choice, and that he probably shouldn’t procrastinate his work for a girl he just met.

Nonetheless, he hoped that this seemingly fateful separation wouldn’t be permanent.

And so, Ryyang did two things in succession that he never imagined he could be caught doing. Writing his phone number on a napkin, and leaving his finished boba cup on top of it to make sure the once occupied table he sat at was noticed by Paya once again. 

He made his way to the door, adjusting his jade as he waited for her to notice his little wave, before heading out in a newfound state - full of liquid and wisdom.

Rysun Chu, 2024 | Published on USF Sparks Magazine