Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“I’ll order for us,” Yuki says.
I nod obediently. “Okay.”
“So?” His tone is impatient. “What do you want?”
I blink at him. “You really don’t know?”
There’s a second of silence, and then he whips away without a word and stalks to the counter to line up. With his back to me, I’m able to feast my eyes on him. It’s what’s gotten me into trouble the first day we spoke, actually. I used to check his bum out all the time, and eventually it led to Yuki catching me fantasizing about him.
I look around, and I’m not surprised to see that most of the women inside the café are doing the same. I feel you, ladies, but that boy is mine.
When it’s Yuki’s turn at the counter, I strain my ears, doing my best to hear him over the faint jazz music playing in the background.
One green tea, tall. That’s for him.
One key lime cream and yogurt frappe. That’s for – wait. What? Is that really for me?
Yuki returns to our seats with our drinks in tow and I stare stonily when he sets my drink down in front of me. It’s a drink exclusive to Japan, and it’s all the things I hate: the sourness of lime, the blandness of yogurt, and the icy coldness of frappes.
I raise my gaze to his, saying darkly, “That’s not what I always ordered.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s exclusive to Japan,” I can’t help snarling.
“I see.”
“Do you really not remember what I’ve always ordered?” Vanilla latte, skinny, grande. Had he really forgotten?
“I guess.” His voice is bland.
My heart starts to shrivel, but I tell myself it’s too early to throw in the towel. So he’s forgotten a few little things. It doesn’t mean he stopped caring. It only means he’s on the road to having Alzheimer’s at an early age, but other than—-
My gaze narrows when I notice the gleam in his eyes.
That can only mean one thing—-
“You did it deliberately, didn’t you?” I say suspiciously. “You ordered something I’m liable to hate!”
Yuki blinks innocently. “I’d never do anything childish.”
“Ha!” But I’m not really angry because this still proves my point. He still remembers things about me, never mind if it’s only things that I dislike, and it’s still enough to make me rapidly blink my eyes when I feel them start to sing. You can cry later, KC, but not now. There’s still work to do, and I won’t be able to accomplish it if Yuki catches me bawling like a kid.
We reach for our drinks almost at the same time, and our actions mirror each other as we turn to face the windows before we start sipping on our drinks. The synchrony of our movements is a little eerie, even for me, and when I look at Yuki, his expression mirrors my disconcertment.
“C-Creepy, right?” I force out a laugh.
Yuki shrugs.
Riiiight. I keep forgetting that this Yuki doesn’t speak as much as the old one does. It’s still one of the few things that puzzle me, actually. “So...umm...” I clear my throat. “I’m just curious, and you totally don’t have to answer me or anything but—-”
He cocks his head to the side when my voice trails off. “What is it?” It’s such a simple gesture, but it’s enough to make me lose my train of thought. Nostalgia hits me out of the blue—-
Oh, Yuki.
I remember the day he first drove me home. He had just found out about my little secret, and we were talking about it, and he had looked at me the very same way he was looking at me now, his head cocked to the side.
Did you really fantasize about those other guys, too?
My heart slams hard against my chest at the memory.
But then I remember the other things we talked about that same day, and this time a giggle escapes me.
“Care to share the joke?” His tone is faintly exasperated, but there’s something else. Something that suspiciously sounds like affection, and oh, oh, oh, I just want to hug him so bad for it.
Oh, Yuki.
It takes everything in me not to throw myself at him. Patience, KC. Patience, and stick to the blasted plan!
“I just remembered something.” I clasp my hands primly on my lap, but all it’s really for is to make sure I don’t accidentally give in to my impulses and grab his beautiful face and smother it with kisses. “You remember the first time you drove me home and I tried to make you drink coffee?”
“Ah.”
“Do you still hate coffee?”
“There is nothing about it to like.”
Okay, that’s too much, and I start laughing. “Spoken just like a real man.” I pause. “Not!” Something else about that day comes back to me – a sixteen-year-old Yuki eyeing his coffee cup in disgust – and I can’t help laughing again.
Yuki’s lip curls. “It is not that funny.”