by Marian Tee
Never underestimate the destructive power of a hoodie. You may think it’s just this ordinary casual piece of clothing, but it’s so much more than that. A guy has to be kissing-close to perfection to slay in a hoodie, his shoulders broad enough so that his body doesn’t get lost in its thick folds, his arms strong enough to fill its otherwise too-large sleeves. With an ill-advised beard, a guy needs at least a few weeks of growth (and serious soul searching) before he officially makes the cut as one of society’s universal swipe lefts. Hoodies, however, can destroy a guy in an instant. A hoodie on an undeserving body is total annihilation; there is no going back in women’s eyes. You’re downgraded to unkempt, never-going-to-date-you hobo for life.
“How is it?” I ask eagerly when Hannah and Vivi finish reading the introduction I’ve texted them. It’s for my newest work-in-progress, which only they and a few others know about. “What do you think? Is it bad? Good? Horrib---”
Hannah laughingly interrupts my babbling, saying, “It’s perfect. So congratulations!” She gives me a quick hug. “You’ve got your mojo back.”
I close my eyes to savor the words. Thank You, God. It’s another drizzling sort of afternoon, and umbrella-less people like my friends and me are once again stranded while other students hurry past us. With my gaze shrouded, the multitude of notes making up life’s symphony becomes discernible. There’s the soft but irregular thud of people’s footfalls as they rush down the steps of the school building, the quick, sharp snapping sound of umbrellas opening mingling with the whipping slashes of unfolding plastic raincoats. And then there’s the sound of rain, the steady, drumming rhythm that holds everything together as it strikes the grounds with a dependable, pit-patting beat. Here and there, I hear snatches of people’s conversations, their tinkling words like the notes of a carelessly sung capriccio.
I hate this weather.
I knew I should have brought my umbrella with me.
I told him we’d meet at the station in ten minutes.
I feel for them, but the truth is, I love the sound of rain. I love the music it plays, love the way its melody shapes the air, love the---
Oh, who am I kidding?
I’m just so happy these days I could say I love poop and I’d totally mean it.
Hannah’s giggles pull me back to reality, and I grimace when I realize that they’ve caught me dancing to la-la land again.
“You have it so bad,” she teases.
“You may say that again,” Vivi says darkly.
“You can say that again,” I correct her while fanning my face, which suddenly feels like it’s on fire.
“Yes, yes, I do mean that.” She wrinkles her nose. “But I am certain you understand what I am saying. So many words, Kat – and all to describe how hot Alexei looks in a hoodie?”
“But he really does look good,” I mumble. “That’s all I---” I stop speaking when I see Vivi eyeing my neck the wrong way.
It’s been a little over a month since Yuki and I have started sort-of-but-not-really-going out, and I think that’s exactly what Vivi is having a problem with. She doesn’t think it’s right we’re doing all the things that couples do without being one. And that’s only on the basis of what she sees, like Yuki kissing me (everyone in school has seen this, actually, which is a little exciting embarrassing, or me passing up on girls’ night out (like now) because Yuki and I have a study session (really) at his place.
But then there are also the other things that Vivi or anyone else doesn’t know, like the fact that Yuki has made it his personal mission for us to make out in just about every corner in school, and then there’s how he’s also determined to give me an orgasm in just about every station there is in the Yamanote Loop –
Anyway, you get the point.
If Vivi knows about that stuff as well, I don’t think she’d let me out of our room. She’s like a protective mother hen where Yuki and I are concerned, and since Yuki’s never bothered to fake being an angel the way he did back in high school, he doesn’t even qualify as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He is a wolf, and I’m pretty sure Vivi isn’t the only one who thinks he’ll eventually chomp my heart to death, just like how the wolf did with Red Riding Hood’s good old granny.
“I am only worried about you,” Vivi says.
“I know,” I assure her quickly, “and I’m seriously grateful for it. But in this case, there’s truly nothing to worry about. The paragraph I showed you is only about how good the right guy can look in a hoodie, nothing else.” To prove my point, I take my phone out and show them the series of selfies that I got Yuki to take this morning for me.
The first one is of Yuki in his bedroom wearing a maroon hoodie.
The second one is of Yuki in his kitchen, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to his elbows to expose the exquisite bone structure of his arms.
The third one is of Yuki in the bathroom, and he’s glaring at the mirror while he holds his hoodie halfway up to show his washboard abs.
Most girls would have killed me in pure envy for this, but because Vivi and Hannah are my friends, they react the way only friends can do. Their laughter fills the air, and I grin even as I say primly, “I told you he looks good in a hoodie.”
Vivi is shaking her head. “I can’t believe you were able to make Alexei take such a photo. How in the planet did you do that?”
It’s Hannah’s and my turn to burst into laughter. We can do this over and over, and I think Vivi’s idiomatic mix-ups will never get old for us. “It’s love,” Hannah says when she finally recovers herself. “A guy like Alexei would only do this for someone he loves, and this is proof that he loves our Kat, whether he can admit it or not.” She looks at me for confirmation, asking cheerfully, “Am I right or am I right?”
I smile brightly. “You are so right.” But I’m lying. The truth is, Yuki had only taken these selfies because it’s another way for him to make it up to me.
And yes, it’s still caused by The Emergency We Can’t Talk About.
A flurry of action distracts my thoughts, a sudden restlessness in the mostly female crowd waiting for the rain to pass.
“Speak of the demon,” Vivi mutters.
“Devil,” I mutter back under my breath, “and can’t you please pretend that you don’t hate his guts?”
Yuki is walking briskly towards us, a tote bag slung over one shoulder – the kind that only the hottest Asian guys seem able to pull off – and his dark head bent over his phone while his other hand holds up a transparent umbrella. Combine this with the semi-blurry background of the tree-lined sidewalk behind Yuki, and it’s like watching the opening scene of a romantic movie unfolding. And I’m not being biased when I say that. I swear I’m not. Because if I were, I’d also have to add that since it’s Yuki, the movie’s a sure shot at winning an Academy Award and smashing box office records worldwide---
“Hello, senpai.” Yuki is suddenly standing right in front of me, and in his blue eyes I realize three things.
One: I had one of those fantasies again.
Two: He knows this---
Three: And he’s going to punish me for it.
Oh, shite.
Yuki’s saying hi to my friends now, and while Hannah cheerfully returns his greeting, Vivi only scowls at him. “Don’t break her heart.”
“Vivi!” She always, always says this, and it always, always makes me wish I had the power to turn the ground into a sinkhole so I can disappear at will.
But Yuki only smiles. “I’ll do my best.” It’s always what he says, too, and it always, always makes me wish I could pretend I believe him.
He takes my hand then, asking, “Ready?”
I can only nod. All around us, girls are looking at Yuki, dying to have him notice them even a little, but he doesn’t. He never does. His eyes are only always for me, and times like this I feel acutely self-conscious and tongue-tied, leaving it to Yuki to say our goodbyes for both of us.
As we start walking, I try to put a little distance between us
under the umbrella, but Yuki notices it right away.
“You’re going to get wet like that, senpai.” He releases my hand only to put his arm around me.
Is it silly to think that I feel cherished when Yuki does things like this in the open?
He pulls me closer, and I have the craziest urge to burrow against his chest. I need a distraction, badly, and I rack my mind for something to say. “Umm…”
There’s a slight pause, and then Yuki says, “I think Vivi’s warming up to me.”
It’s exactly what I need to hear, and I pull away to gape at him. “Are you serious?”
“She didn’t threaten to have the gods of her shrine curse me like she did last week. That’s an improvement, isn’t it?”
Despite everything, I can’t help giggling at the reminder. “I guess it is.”
“She reminds me of Lace a lot, actually.”
I gasp. “I thought the same thing the first time I met her.”
“Minus the swearing though.”
I start laughing. “I thought of that, too!” And just like that, the awkwardness passes between us, and my body starts moving on its own.
When I nestle against his chest, Yuki looks down at me with a smile. “You’re alright now?”
Oh.
“You know,” I say in a small voice. “Don’t you?”
“That you don’t know what to do with yourself when I play nice?” Yuki releases a sigh of profound weariness and his voice is of sham sadness when he says, “Yes, I do know.” I make a face, but he ignores this and continues on in a pious note. “And to be perfectly truthful, senpai, it’s made me realize that I don’t know you as much as I thought I did.”
Now I’m confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I never knew you were such a die-hard masochist---”
I pull away to sock his shoulder. “Am not!”
“I never expected the smallest act of consideration on my part would depress you---”
“Stop it.” But the words are ruined by the snort of laughter that follows it.
“And because all I ever wish is to please you,” Yuki says gallantly, “I solemnly promise not to be nice to you ever again.”
And that’s when I see the wicked glint in his eyes.
“Starting now.”
He gives me the keys to his apartment. “Please go ahead of me, senpai. I want my place clean by the time arrive, and – hang on, I almost forgot.” He slings his tote bag around my shoulder, and I almost lose my balance at the sudden weight of it. What the heck – does he have bricks for books in it?
“Take that home for me, will you?” Yuki flashes me an angelic smile. “See you later then?” He starts moving back…and raindrops start to fall on my shoulder.
Oh!
“YUKI!” His name comes out a monstrosity: one-third growl, one-third gasp, one-third laugh.
He hauls me back under the cover of his umbrella, his broad shoulders rocking with mirth. “Warui warui.” My bad. “I couldn’t help it.” His eyes gleam down at me as his hand curves around the back of my neck. “And I can’t help this either.” He bites my lip, and when a little moan escapes me, he whispers, “Whenever I hear you laugh, whenever I see you smile---” He sucks my lip, and I find myself clutching the sides of his jacket. “It’s the biggest turn on, senpai.”
Aaaaaaah.
His kiss makes my toes curl hard, but it’s his words that make my soul swoon. I’m no match for it, and my arms wrap around his neck as the world dissolves. Our tongues slide against each other, hot and wet, and I feel my breasts start to swell and ache with every stroke.
I can feel people staring at us, but I can’t seem to make myself care. It’s just him, me, and our kiss, and it’s taking me to places that I thought I could never see again.
In those places, I’m able to say I love you---
And he’s able to say it back.
When Yuki finally lifts his head, we’re quiet, but his blue eyes are bright while my lungs are striving to remember how to work.
“If I had kissed you any longer,” he murmurs, “I might not be able to stop.”
I bite my lip, mumbling, “What if I don’t want you---” The rest of my words become incoherent as Yuki pinches my cheeks, baby blues blazing.
“Stop trying to seduce me,” Yuki says in a low growl.
I can only nod, wide-eyed. I was seducing him?
“And stop looking at me like that,” he mutters as he releases my cheeks. “You know how much it turns me on when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I can’t help asking.
“Like you want me to bully and punish you.”
My mouth opens and closes. Oh. I have absolutely no idea how to answer that.
“You’re still looking at me that way.”
“I don’t even know---” I don’t finish speaking, with Yuki’s mouth once again crushing mine under his.
By the time the kiss ends, I’m lightheaded and my lips feel swollen while Yuki is slightly out of breath as his eyes glitter down at me with raw need.
“Dammit.” His word is harsh, but his touch is painfully tender as he combs loose strands away from my face. He’s always loved playing with my hair, and I hadn’t even realized I had taken it for granted until he was gone, and I found myself literally crying over the loss of it. It’s funny how life’s lessons works. You hear about them, read about them, but they fail to sink in until they hurt you.
Shaking his head, he takes his tote bag from me and grabs my hand, muttering, “You need to stop seducing me, senpai.”
“I swear I’m not,” I say with a helpless laugh as we start walking. I notice the 7-11 in the corner, and remembering that I have something to buy, I point to the convenience store, asking impulsively, “Can you give me a minute?”
“What do you need?” Yuki asks. “I’ll get it for you.”
I quickly shake my head. “I got this. And I’ll be really quick, I promise.” Hoping that Yuki doesn’t follow me, I hurry away and zoom straight to the magazine stands as soon as I get inside. It only takes me a moment to find what I’m looking for, and grabbing two copies, I whirl around---
Ouch.
It feels like I’ve bumped into a wall, and when I look up, I almost wish it were so. Instead, I get a glaring Yuki, and I quickly flip the magazines the other way around, hoping he hasn’t caught a look of his face on the cover.
But it’s too late.
“What the hell, senpai?”
“It’s part of my collection,” I answer defensively.
“It’s a waste of your money, for God’s sake.”
“My money, my rules.” And with the magazines protectively clutched to my chest, I dash to the counter and tap my PASMO on the card reader to complete my purchase.
“Why do you even need it,” Yuki demands as we leave the convenience store.
“I like looking at your pictures---”
His lip curls in disgust, and I can’t help giggling.
“If you need something to look at,” he growls, “then look at me.”
“Oh, Yuki.” I can’t stop laughing. “You’re so cu---”
His eyes narrow. “What did you say?”
Oh, shite. I’ve forgotten how much he hates it when I use the word ‘cute’ for anything he does. I clear my throat. Quick, KC. Think of another cu-word. “I said, you’re so---” Cu…pid? Cu…cumber?
Yuki’s eyes start boring through me. “I’m so what?”
Bloody hell. Why aren’t there any other normal words that rhyme with queue?
Desperate to get his mind off my faux pas, I impulsively point to the sky, exclaiming, “Look! It’s so…blue.”
“Really, senpai?”
“But it’s just a little funny,” I say hopefully. “Right?”
“No,” he answers flatly. “It’s not.” But then his lips twitch just a little, and oh---
Too, too cute.
But since I know better now than to say the words out loud,
I can only give him a quick hug, saying, “I knew it!”
He blinks at me in bemusement as I pull away. “Knew what?”
“You find me funny!”
Yuki chuckles. “And you think that’s a good thing?”
I slip my hand into his, saying feelingly, “It’s the best thing.” And I mean it. Silly as it may seem, being funny is the kind of proof that Hannah’s talking about. Akito-san is the only other person I know who can make Yuki genuinely laugh, and since Yuki loves his dad to pieces…
A girl can hope, right?
I feel like I’m floating as we resume walking, and I ask impulsively, “What do you think about having our study session somewhere else?”
He raises a brow at me. “What do you have in mind?”
Word of the Day: Onsen, n
1.The Japanese term for hot spring or a resort centered around one.
2.It is rare for an onsen to be of mixed use; a thin divider is usually installed to separate the men’s hot springs from the women’s.
3.Customers are usually discouraged from wearing any kind of clothes or even their underwear when entering an onsen.
Blog #753
I got an actual old-fashioned piece of snail mail today. It’s from my family back home, and it’s several inches thick. Drew kept me updated with family life, Scott talked about his new job, Jason shared an excerpt of the manuscript he’s working on, and Kelly – of all things – gave me the latest info about the upcoming season of Stranger Things. I know I’m an ocean away, but my mom can’t seem to get that Netflix also works in Japan. Our version just has more anime and J-dramas, is all.
Weirdly, none of them writes about Kelly’s newest treatment or how it’s making her feel all kinds of shite and has her throwing up at night. Not even Jason, who’s usually all about facing our fears and placing our faith in God.
Or maybe it’s not that weird. We have been talking about it on FaceTime, anyway, so why rehash it on paper? Maybe it’s a way to cope, to compartmentalize so that there are parts of our lives we can always count on being safe and happy – parts that…if something happens…we can remember and know they’ll always be good.
