8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

We head to Fujigaoka Station after some more mingling where I showcase to both Naomi and Freya my amazing social skills. A group of Japanese students volunteer to join us on our izakaya adventure. I recognize two of them from the fair; they are both part of the Aikido club.

"I've never been to an izakaya," I say, taking in the wooden interior and the tatami mats as the staff lead us to a semi-private room.

There are no chairs, just cushions on the floor and a low table. Half of us sit here and the other half are in the room next to ours.

"I've been once. There are a couple of Japanese places near where I live," Naomi says, plopping on the pillow to my left. Chris sits next to her, while Taka, one of the Aikido guys, sits on my right.

We order a bunch of starters and alcohol. I'm not that big of a drinker or in a rush to get a buzz, so I take my time. The food is more interesting to me as I haven't really tried anything other than curry and sushi back home. The fried chicken is probably my favorite, with the fried dumplings coming up in second place.

"I need a smoke. Anyone coming?" Taka stands up, fishing out his cigarettes.

I volunteer, wanting some air. Naomi joins too and so do a few people from the room next door. There is a designated smoking area on the side of the building, so we head over there. As they get on with it, I am once again reminded of the guy from the club. If I'm not wrong, the pack he pulled out of his pocket was white with green and gray letters. None of the people smoke that brand. Suddenly curious, I decide to check out the convenience store across the street.

Before I get to do that though, I'm herded back inside for drink rounds three and four. We end up at a club next to the park just off the station. It's fun, and a few ladies catch my eye, but somehow I'm not really feeling it tonight. I'm down for a hookup, but whenever I convince myself to walk over to some cute girl and charm her panties off, the face of Club Guy pops in my head, ruining my debaucherous intentions.

His lopsided smile and his damn dimples are honestly haunting me. He's handsome. Objectively and subjectively. On the sexy side like me, I'd say, though I'm sure he could pull off the cute-handsome angle since he's Asian and has that K-pop star vibe.

"Hi. I'm Kaori," someone says in a high-pitched voice when the music pauses, and the DJ announces something in Japanese.

I'm greeted with a lovely smile when I turn around as two girls in short dresses and fluffy cardigans join me at the bar .

"This is Saki. What's your name?" Kaori, who's the taller one and looks like a doll, asks while pointing at the second girl. She's shorter and 100% my type with her plump lips, big eyes and dark hair styled in waves.

"I'm Leo. Nice to meet you."

"Hi Leo," they say together, struggling a bit to pronounce the L.

I didn't know this before coming here, but the letter and sound L don't exist in Japanese. I think there are a couple more, but I only remember this one since it's the first letter of my name.

I let my eyes roam the two girls and they return the favor. Judging by the spark of interest in their gazes, they are definitely up for some fun.

"So, where are you from?" Saki asks, playing with her straw.

Would my mysterious stranger struggle to say my name, too? From the short exchange we had at the club's backyard that night, his accent seemed softer. Maybe he spent some time abroad somewhere? And if he did, maybe he can say the L?

"New York," I say, suddenly dying to know how my name would sound coming out of his mouth.

"Ooh! That's so cool!" Kaori nods enthusiastically, then looks at Saki. " Amerika-jin wa minna kakkoi ne, Saki-san?"

"Kakkoi yo!" Saki agrees, ogling me just as openly as Kaori is. "Our friends are having a house party. Do you want to join?"

This is it, my opening to make the hookup happen. Except I have no idea what to say, even if my dick gives a twitch of interest. My brain is too preoccupied trying to remember if there were any L-s in any of the words Club Guy and I said to each other.

The two girls bat their lashes at me expectantly, but even that's not enough to unjumble my thoughts.

"Sorry, uh, my friends are waiting for me," I string together like the biggest loser who's ever losered.

They look taken aback as much as I feel it, so I don't linger, too embarrassed to try and salvage the opportunity. The crowd swallows me soon enough, and that helps me forget about my epic failure, though it doesn't prevent me from obsessing over the damn L.

Seriously, Leo, let it fucking go . What does it matter if Club Guy can pronounce your name or not?

Great fucking question. And worse than that, I'm now picturing how his mouth looks like when he says it, his tongue peeking out from behind white teeth. Hot tingles assault my body, confusing and pleasant as they concentrate in my core.

Jesus. I can't believe I'm finding such fantasies sensual and sexy. I really need to get laid. If only my dumb brain would stop fixating on a certain someone and let me score with one of pretty and interested girls tonight.

But they can't even say your name, Leo, the voice in my head insists.

Okay , but we don't know if Club Guy can either. Besides, what does it matter even if he could? It's not like I'd bang him.

Right?

The silence that follows raises the hairs on my neck. Oh boy, it's worse than I thought. I reaaaaally need to score and soon. A happy and sexually not frustrated dick equals a happy and sexually not frustrated Leo who knows what he likes .

I spot Chris making out with a model-like guy in one of the booths. Naomi is there too, enjoying the company of a pink-haired girl and a guy with a mohawk. The moment she sees me, she waves me over. We hang around until Chris decides to fuck off somewhere with his hookup, because, unlike me, he's not a sore loser.

"Why'd you let that chick go? She looked interested," I tease Naomi as we board a taxi and head home. It's too late and the subway doesn't run anymore.

"I don't do couples. Things get messy and I don't like messy," she says easily.

She's not wrong, I suppose, though it's not like I have experience. I'm more of a one-partner-at-a-time guy.

We don't go right in when we arrive at IS-Halls as Naomi and a couple others want to smoke. I stay with them, remembering that I didn't get to find out what brand Club Guy likes. There is a convenience store near the bus stop, so I decide to go for a walk.

"Anyone want anything?" I ask, hooking a thumb in the direction of the shop. "I'm going to the konbini ."

A chorus of nope-s send me off. I jog across the street and enter the brightly lit store. It's not very big, but it has all kinds of things, including some clothes and household items. The door rings as someone else comes inside just as I plant myself in front of the fridge with the drinks. There are so many variations and some of the flavors sound kind of weird. But in an intriguing way.

Grabbing two, I try to work out what they are. One is pink with yellow stripes and some fruity-looking thing on its label, and the other one is blue-white with… Sparkles? Stars? Dots? I can't really tell.

"I recommend the Momo soda if you are in the mood for something sweet. "

My nerve-endings light up as the sound of that voice zaps me, rooting me in place. It's deep and smooth. Rich. It slides like silk across the skin of my exposed arms, speeding up my pulse.

"But the Pokari is an energy drink. If you were after something to give you a boost."

Shit. There's no way I can mistake that voice. It's him . Badass Club Guy.

His imposing presence engulfs me, further knotting my stomach. My heart tries to burst out of my chest, hammering against my ribcage. My throat feels thick. I spin on my heel, facing the man behind me. His dark eyes lock with mine and his lips curve up in the lopsided smile I can't get out of my head. I blink at him, my mind reeling.

"You! What are you doing here?!" I blurt out like the biggest idiot, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. My complexion makes it very obvious when I flush, and he definitely doesn't miss it.

Club Guy tilts his head slightly and lifts the basket he's holding while not taking his eyes off me. It's suspiciously full of random things. There is ice-cream, chocolate, a foot massager, hangers, an ice-making machine, a cucumber, two frozen salmon packets, kitchen paper and the latest issues of various magazines. I frown at them, trying to decide if he really needs all that or if he just grabbed a bunch of things and tossed them in there.

"I'm doing my shopping. As you can see," he says, his tone serious and business-like.

I swallow hard, meeting his gaze again. The intensity in it makes me fight off a shudder and another wave of warmth that goes straight to my dick. It even gives a tiny jerk in approval. Seriously ?

In an attempt to distract myself from my unplanned response, I glance toward the entrance, spotting two suited men with sunglasses waiting outside. My blood freezes. Shit, shit, shit. They totally look like hitmen. Am I in trouble?

Nerves swamp my stomach, unleashing tingling all over my body. If I had any hope that maybe he didn't actually see me at the restaurant place, this definitely clears away such wishful doubts.

"I promise I didn't hear anything! I know how sus it must've looked, but I really wasn't trying to eavesdrop! I was at the observation room for the view! And then you walked by, and you looked familiar, and I was wondering from where, so I followed you upstairs and then I thought the plant was hid—"

He chuckles, propping his hip against the ice-cream fridge. I clamp my mouth shut and gape at him. He doesn't say anything and just keeps looking at me.

"What?" I demand when the awkwardness gets too unbearable.

"This sounded like an excuse someone who was eavesdropping would say."

I scrunch my eyebrows. Okay, he has a point. But it is the actual truth. I only followed him because I recognized him.

"You owe me," I blurt out.

He narrows his dark eyes, the slight lift on the left side of his mouth back in place. "You are not wrong there, Leo."

My pulse skyrockets, giddiness rippling through me. Oh my god, was that an L? "Say again?"

"I haven't thanked you for helping me last week at the club."

"No. Leo. Say my name again. "

He studies my face, taking a step closer as his smile grows. The hint of mischief in it makes his face even more attractive. "I'd like to talk to you, if you are free. Leo ."

I grin, my chest tight with satisfaction. He can pronounce the L in my name. He's the first Japanese I've met who can do it. I knew it. He must've lived abroad or studied a foreign language from a young age. Yay, that's my badass Club Guy for you, brain.

And then it hits me like a bucket of freezing water pouring on my head. He knows my name, but I haven't even introduced myself yet.

Heart galloping, I stumble back. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

My stomach pinches and flips and dips to my feet, my chest tightening with sudden panic. It's been a week. I thought I was safe, but this is not a coincidence. He came here because he knew where I was. Because he knows who I am.

He glances at the cashier, and I follow his gaze. The college girl with the shop's cap looks like she's about to call the police.

"I'll wait outside. Take your time."

I don't get to protest. I'm too shocked and my mouth won't cooperate. Holding onto the drinks fridge for support, I gawk after him and wonder what the fuck have I gotten myself into by helping this stranger beat up a bunch of guys at the back of a nightclub.