I’ve been buzzing with excitement ever since I met the PI last night.
While my logical side argues that I’m merely chasing a pipe dream, every other side is on board with the idea of finding my father. I haven’t been able to entertain any other thoughts since.
And yes, that includes forgetting about the van that almost kidnapped me or the out-of-body experience I had on national TV.
All I can think about is the possibility of meeting my dad. And yeah, okay, the national TV incident won’t really leave my head either, no matter how much I chase it away.
The text he sent earlier didn’t help. Is he still waiting at The Grill?
I shake my head. I don’t care. At all.
Now I just need to stop thinking about it.
And being alone doesn’t help. On a Saturday night, Luce and I usually hang out together, but she’s busy with her new witch coven. I tried to distract myself by studying, but I really suck at preparing for exams in advance. I only excel when I study the day of.
Netflix also wasn’t much help, but hey, true crime shows are better than overthinking everything.
So I put on shorts and my comfy hoodie and lay my fuzzy blanket on the sofa, then go to the kitchen for my ammunition. Soda, chips, nuts, and everything that would cause Brianna and her minions to have a stroke if they saw me consuming it.
The scent of smoke is my only warning of Mom’s presence as she steps through the kitchen’s sliding doors with a phone at her ear and a half-burnt cigarette in her fingers.
She must’ve not noticed I’m here, because she doesn’t raise her head as she speaks in Japanese. And while I’m not the best at writing it, I understand and speak it perfectly. “I told you not to call me anymore.”
There’s silence before she continues, “That was a long time ago. When are you going to stop accusing me of that?”
More silence, then Mom takes a long drag, the burn visible on the cigarette. The longer she listens, the harder her limbs physically shake as she shouts, “I said, no!”
And with that, she hangs up, bringing the cigarette to her trembling lips. She seems weaker lately and she’s lost weight. Her job is definitely sucking her life away at this point.
“A clingy ex?” I joke.
Mom’s head rears up and she coughs, her breath catching. “Nao. How long have you been there?”
“Since the beginning.” I finger the items on the tray to keep my hands busy. “Who was it?”
She throws up a dismissive hand. “No one you should worry about.”
“Just like I shouldn’t worry about my father or my family?”
“You don’t have a father. As for your family, they kicked me out when I was pregnant with you, so I’m the only family you have.”
“You’re just saying that to guilt-trip me.”
“I’m saying that so you’ll stop having naive dreams. We only have each other.”
“I also have a father somewhere. You just refuse to tell me where he is.”
She steps closer, stubbing her cigarette on the edge of the sink as her eyes glisten with moisture. “I’m the one who faced social discrimination and did my best to give you a comfortable life. I’m the one who works day in and day out so no one looks down on you. What did your father do in all of that?”
“I wouldn’t know, because you won’t tell me.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“Just like you protected me from your boyfriend when I was nine years old? If Dad were here, that would’ve never happened!”
She raises her palm and strikes me across the face so hard, I reel from the shock of it. Mom doesn’t hit me. Ever. And the surprise on her face matches my own as burning tears roll down my cheeks.
Her violet-painted lips shake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Forget it.”
“I…told you to never bring that up again. It’s all behind us now. I stopped dating and cut off my social life to take care of you.”
“I never asked you to! All I ever wanted was my father and you never gave me that.”
“And I never will.” She sniffles, her expression hardening. “Stop being a baby and grow up.”
I want to tell her that I’ve been a grownup since that night twelve years ago. That I figuratively lost my innocence and she wasn’t there for me.
I want to scream that I hate everything she’s done since then. That I hate her sometimes. But that will only make me an emotional mess and I don’t know how to deal with that.
My relationship with Mom has been on and off for twelve years now and I don’t think it’ll ever get better. I should’ve moved out when I graduated high school, but one drunken night, she begged me not to go, said she couldn’t imagine her life without me, so I caved in and stayed.
And for what?
Nothing changed. If anything, she’s gotten busier with each passing year.
I’m definitely moving out after college ends. I’ll go to Japan and put some distance between us. Maybe that’s what we needed all along. A break from each other.
The doorbell rings and Mom wipes her eyes and goes to answer it.
Using the sleeve of my hoodie, I rub at my eyes to make the evidence of my weakness disappear. We’re the same in that way, Mom and I. We hate showing our emotions to the outside world and actively close down whenever there’s a chance.
Grabbing my tray of goodies, I head to the living room but freeze when I hear a very familiar rumbling voice.
I must be imagining things.
Soon after, though, Mom walks back inside, accompanied by none other than the Black Devils’ captain and quarterback.
The tray nearly falls to the floor and my legs struggle to keep me upright.
Sebastian is here. In my house.
What the…?
I blink twice to make sure he’s actually here. Yup, there he is, dressed in designer jeans that hang low on his sinful hips. A gray T-shirt stretches across his hard abs that his denim jacket is unable to hide.
His hair is styled back and his star smile is on complete display. So what if I can sense the hollowness behind it? Everyone else only sees the accomplishments and the quarterback image.
Everyone else is only interested in what’s on the surface.
All this time, I thought I was, too, but something changed last night.
Or maybe it’s been there all along and is only now making itself known.
“Your friend came to see you, Nao,” Mom announces ever so casually, as if I actually have any friends aside from Lucy.
I finally find my voice, but it still comes out low, “He’s not my friend, Mom.”
“She’s right.” Sebastian offers her his million-dollar-all-American-boy smile. “I’m actually trying to court her.”
She raises a brow, her gaze flitting between the two of us before she mutters, “Good luck with that.”
And then she ascends the stairs, slowly disappearing from view.
Leaving me alone.
Or with Sebastian—which is way worse.
Ignoring him—and my general state of flustering panic—I try to walk at a steady pace. I miraculously place the tray on the coffee table and sit on the sofa without knocking anything over.
My voice, however, is a little strangled when I speak, “You can leave. The door is right there.”
A heavy weight flops beside me, causing a dip in the sofa. The pungent scent of bergamot and pepper assaults my nostrils and overwhelms my senses.
My space is filled with his nefarious presence. I’ve never been this close to Sebastian before and now that it’s happened two days in a row, I can feel a part of me disintegrating, almost as if I’m going through some sort of an internal crisis.
His face inches impossibly closer to mine as he coos seductively, “I didn’t come here so I could leave, Tsundere.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why? Does it hit too close to home?”
I huff, ripping a bag of chips open and hitting Play on Netflix. “It’ll get gory. You better go.”
“I like gory.”
“No, you don’t, Mr. Prim and Proper.”
“Just because I’m prim and proper doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the exploration of the dark side.” He steals a chip from my bag, his fingers brushing against mine for a second too long.
I hold my breath until he retracts his hand.
Swallowing the saliva that’s gathered at the back of my throat, I steal a peek at him. At how illegally perfect he is, like a Roman god with all his sharp angles.
“What are you doing here, Sebastian?” I ask in a barely audible voice.
“Watching the life of some serial killer because you stood me up.”
“Ever think that I stood you up because I’m not interested in you?”
“Or you stood me up because you are interested in me and scared of acting on it.”
“You’re delusional.”
He breaks eye contact with the TV and focuses on me. “Want to make a bet?”
“What type of bet?”
“The type where if you win, I’ll leave you alone. If you don’t, you’ll give me something I want.”
I don’t like the sound of that, but at the same time, I know this is probably the only way he’ll end whatever sick fixation he has on me.
“Fine. What’s the bet?”
“When I kissed you yesterday, you didn’t moan.”
My temperature rises a notch at the reminder of last night. I don’t know why I thought he’d pretend it didn’t happen like I’ve been trying to. Of course, Sebastian is the type of person who’d hit me over the head with it if for nothing else than to rattle me.
I clear my throat. “S-so?”
“That’s the bet. I’ll kiss you again. If you moan, I win. If you don’t, you win.”
I open my mouth to protest, but it ends on a gasp when his lips claim mine.
