Halfway Valentine | Chapter V: Rivalry

“Naomi!” I called, catching my breath. The blonde was in front of the university clock tower, sitting on a stone bench next to a statue and staring off into space quietly. I jogged over to her and saw her flinch a little. “Christ, you’re a fast runner. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“And now you’ve found me,” Naomi said cheerlessly. “Nice day at uni, huh?”

“The best.” I sat down next to her, panting some more. “I can’t believe how Sugiyama Sensei treated you in class earlier. It’s just fucking unfair,” I told her. “That was epic, though—how you went all-in with the rousing rant for the ages and called him out on his bollocks before storming out of the room. You deserve a lollie.”

I offered the blonde a Chupa Chups lollipop but she turned it down so I put the candy back into my pocket.

She snorted. “It was nothing.”

“Oh, you have no idea how your very few vicious words put him in his place,” I said, chuckling a bit. “You may be more helpful than you give yourself credit for, Naomi. Sugiyama Sensei went quiet after your little walk-out drama and we both know that’s absolute heaven for everyone.”

Naomi didn’t respond; she just shifted on the bench, the dried maple leaves crunching under her cute Toms shoes.

“So, what happened? What made you go off like that?” I asked.

“And what made you run after me?” she threw back a question.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I replied.

Naomi frowned at this as she tinkered with her bottle of oolong tea. “Emily . . . you shouldn’t have followed. It’s rude enough that one of us walked out of his class.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I told her, causing her to look at me again. “I know you want to be left alone, Naomi. But you don’t have to fight your battles on your own.”

Naomi just stared at me with slightly lifted eyebrows.

I let out a soft chuckle before continuing, “Oh god, sorry. That sounded like a cheesy love song,” I said, cringing a bit. “Anyway, did you really think that your avoidance wasn’t totally and painfully obvious? I was acutely aware that the thought of being near to me did not exactly fill you with anticipation.”

“Then why do you put yourself through this?” the blonde asked quietly.

“Good question, Naomi. When I figure out the answer, I’ll add the appropriate poetic metaphor for it to my lists.”

Naomi didn’t answer. She was busy watching the way a brightly coloured leaf skittered on the ground.

I clapped my hands together. “’Right, then. Since you seem content with not talking, I’m going to start a staring contest with this statue beside me. Maybe I’ll get more interaction from this old bloke.” I gave the statue’s arm soft pats. “Or I could busy myself with something and pretend you’re not here as well.” I pulled out a retractable ballpoint pen and a notebook from my bag and turned it to a page with some already-scribbled notes: Emily’s Notes to Self—a checklist of the things I plan to do that I had started writing last night.

I re-read the opening line in my head whilst pensively tapping the pen against my chin.

I only have ten months here in Japan. So how do I make my short stay worthwhile? Here’s my plan:

I inked in an additional line at the end of the list. Be kidnapped by a Yakuza, I wrote and sniggered to myself, prompting the blonde to glance at me with an intrigued look on her face. I went on to write the next item.

Hot make-outs, I ducked my head and covered the page with my other hand as I jotted down so that Naomi wouldn’t be able to see and continued scribbling, (with Naomi, preferably) in all places unimaginable. ‘Cept inside a Ferris wheel car. Licking my lips, I then drew a tick box.

Another thought came to mind.

Work on your research paper, I wrote down. No dawdling. No distractions.

As if she had read my mind, Naomi asked all of a sudden, “How’s your paper going?”

After scribbling down a couple more entries quickly, I pressed the button of the pen so that the ballpoint sinks back into the frame and closed the notebook on my lap. “It’s going well. I think,” I answered with a tiny smile. “Thanks to your brilliant comments, I’m now halfway through the introduction.”

The blonde finally smiled. “Good.” She opened her bottle of oolong tea and took a sip.

“Naomi, what went on today?” I ventured for a talk again. “I know someone or something made you upset.”

Naomi scoffed. “Emily, you don’t have to listen to my problems. They would bore you.”

“Try me,” I said softly.

“It was my whore of an ex-best mate,” the blonde finally answered, cryptically. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, I can’t really process much because you’ve only given me crumbs,” I said. “But since you called her a ‘whore’, it seems that she had horribly betrayed you in some way. So what I can tell you is that . . . you should forget about this bloody awful person if she had broken your trust. Find a new loyal best mate. Or an awesome Friend for Life. Which by the way, I am. It’s my shining personality, you see.”

Naomi snorted a chuckle and rolled her eyes flippantly. “You must be so proud.”

I smiled smugly. “Well, appreciating yourself is an important part of life.”

“There’s a fine line between ‘appreciating yourself’ and ‘thinking you’re a goddess’.”

I straightened up on the bench and turned so that I was completely facing the Aussie blonde. “You, Naomi Campbell, are full of angst and animosity and skepticism,” I told her quite frankly. “Can’t you just be delighted that there’s an awesome person who is willing to volunteer as your Friend for Life, who is willing to listen to you and makes an effort to reach out even when she feels blatantly ignored?”

Naomi looked at me and stared on. Then she bit her lip and shook her head. “Is this a cue for me to give you a big grateful hug?”

I gave a shrug. “Well, if you want to.”

“Well, I don’t,” she said.

Smirking, I crossed my legs. “Okay, then. Let’s just continue with our conversation,” I said, and instinctively began pen-clicking. “How exactly is your friend a ‘whore’?”

“What are you writing, anyway?” Naomi asked, glancing at the notebook on my lap.

“Why are you changing the subject?”

The blonde gave me the stare which prompted me to seriously answer, “It’s my life’s bucket list.”

Naomi snorted cynically. “Why bother? You won’t get to accomplish all of them anyway.”

“It’s not about that,” I said. “The point is to make you realise that although your life’s list will never be completed, you’ll understand the importance of keeping your priorities straight. Forget the irrelevant distractions that we allow to take up too much of our valuable and finite time that we have in this one lifetime.”

“Well, I find lists pointless and just plain stupid,” Naomi said. “Please, just for your own sake, isn’t life hard enough for you to make up your own rules to mess with yourself, invent restrictions for yourself? You don’t need to fabricate rules all the fucking time, Emily.”

I smiled at the blonde benignly. “I’m not gonna argue with you today. I want to stay in a good mood. So . . . you want to go check out the new pastry shop downtown? I heard the red velvet cupcakes are orgasmic.” Then I raised a finger when Naomi’s brows quirked. “And before you get any ideas, this is just a friendly offer, okay? So you keen?”

“Can’t,” she answered, and the school bell chimed.

I frowned. “Why not?”

“You’re a distraction,” Naomi replied, getting up, as I started to laugh. “I have to steer clear of irrelevant distractions. Didn’t you just say that?” She slung her canvas bag over her shoulder and gave a small nod of goodbye. “I’ve got to go, Em. I still have Politics class. Bye.”

Still chuckling and shaking my head in amusement, I watched as Naomi trotted away. Then I pressed the plunger of my pen, opened my notebook again, and polished the checklist with one last entry:

And perhaps make Naomi Campbell fall madly in love with me. o

I snapped my notebook shut, a wicked grin on my face.

I watched as a leaf floated against the wind. It made a little journey down the tree bark and finally landed on the grass below. More leaves followed the little one’s descent, slowly making a pile of red, yellow, and orange near the busy football pitch. I slumped on the metal bleacher bench and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

Three weeks have passed by so quickly since I first set foot on Japan.

Three weeks . . .

And I am still struggling with the daily 3 AM showers. Some days, I would even risk going to school without taking a bath. I’ll just have to make sure I’d stay far away enough from Naomi that she won’t be able to get a whiff of me. Thank God for Kyoto’s relatively less-polluted streets, though, I wouldn’t have to worry that much.

Three weeks . . .

And I am still struggling with the noisy roving van every morning advertising some sort of detergent. The jingle serves as my alarm clock everyday and I am not always grateful for it. Also, it’s well catchy that every so often I would find myself unconsciously humming the tune out of boredom during classes.

Three weeks . . .

And I am still struggling with using chopsticks during every meal. If you witness the ridiculously awkward way I handle them, you might assume I’m a freaking retard. Dexterity is something that I’ll have yet to be acquainted with.

Three weeks . . .

And I am still struggling with these Japanese kids who stare and point at me as if I were from outer space—“Hen na onna (Strange girl)” as they kept on calling me. It’s not a wonderful feeling, I’m telling you. Once, inside a train, I made a little girl cry by just monkeying around with my red hair like it was a moustache. I reckon she had been terribly scarred for life.

Three weeks have passed by and I am still struggling.

Three weeks have passed by and I am still a stranger.

Rubbing a tender spot on my forehead, I stared down at my muddy football cleats.

Everyone had been busy for our own reasons. We were given pages and pages of homework every day so we spend most of our time inside our rooms or in the lounge doing what we enjoy least. In my case, I have been busy with a paper that I have yet to submit online to a professor back in uni. I’m not done with it yet. There are just too many distractions.

Throughout those three action-packed weeks, I was able to get to know the gang much better.

Upon returning from school, I would sometimes go directly to the lounge to watch Halo play the piano if she’s around. Sometimes we would perform together. But all of these meetings are done secretly. I don’t really like performing in front of an audience. I have serious stage fright that occasionally attacks.

Lately, I’ve sensed an Effy-Halo tandem. God knows what they’re doing every time they’re together. I’ve gone paranoid thinking that Ms. Sherlock Holmes might be fishing for details or something. I’ve warned Halo not to talk about me that much.

Once a week, Panda, Halo, and I would watch Glee together in Panda’s room. Panda’s really hooked on the show; she’d like to think she’s Brittany. She would memorise Brittany’s lines and re-enact the scenes to us. She doesn’t know how silly she sounds. Panda may be three years older than me but her naiveté is just preposterous.

Thomas and Panda have been inseparable. But they always claim that they’re not dating or anything for that matter. If they’re not an item, I don’t know what else to call them. They’re just a bizarre couple.

I hate to admit it but I’m also enjoying Cook’s company. Ever since he found out that I bat for his team, he just wouldn’t stop bugging me to be his ‘wing-woman’. Sometimes he would invite me to his little search and would talk about girls using graphic terms. The day would always end with his ribs getting punched by me. I needed to remind him that I am, after all, still a girl.

Sean has been awesome, too. He got me and the boys to join a football circle in school called Los Maravillosos. I was surprised and delighted to find out that there are many Japanese girls who are into the world’s favourite sport as well and even more delighted to find out that Pretty Girl is in the same club. We would have regular meetings and trainings twice a week. Today, we are pretty much just fooling around on the football field and getting to know each other better.

Karen has been busy juggling work, partying, and school. That woman is truly skilled—a freaking monster. It’s just unbelievable how she manages to survive Class 1A given that the pub’s been eating a great deal of her time as well.

I know I said that I’m gonna kick JJ’s butt but he’s not the villain after all. We have nice little chats in the kitchen once in a while—with him always winding up getting locked on. But lately, though, I don’t see him around the dorm that often. I think he’s hiding from me. I don't see him around Naomi either. I really think he’s hiding from me. That’s just weird. But it’s quite a relief.

Effy has been acting more strange lately. She enjoys blatantly flirting with me at school in, what I sense, a casual and jokey sort of way. Still, it didn’t fail to trigger rumours to spread out. Stories have been passed around campus that Effy and I have this romantic thing going on. That’s just utter bullshit. HEP exchange students who aren’t staying in our dormitory have actually fallen for the tittle-tattle. Effy and I would simply ignore their repetitive questions and gobsmacked faces.

Then again, I also noticed that Freddie gets all weird and tense whenever Effy’s around. I know Freddie thinks Effy’s fit and all—he told me one time when we were hanging out on the rooftop—but when I look at the way his eyes go glassy whenever Effy’s around, I know it’s more than just a little crush.

Naomi and I have gotten closer and more comfortable with each other—with a reduced amount of stuttering, squirming, and all that awkwardness. I’ve been able to sail through the blonde’s changing moods as well and her ‘Arctic Ice Queen’ transformations have lessened. Also, we have been branded as the ‘Ultimate Pair’ in our Listening/Speaking class, even beating out Cook and his rowdy Korean buddy. We never fail to impress Nishikawa Sensei and amuse our classmates . . . well, excluding Effy who is anything but amused.

Another thing I’ve observed is that there’s some kind of friction between Naomi and Effy. I don’t know when and how it started but they just can’t seem to stomach staying in the same room for a long time. Eventually, one of them would explode. This is exactly what happens when two strong personalities collide. So try to imagine the number of rolling of eyes and sarcastic remarks they throw at each other during classes. Like what I had envisaged—a disaster. I actually asked Effy about the ‘tension’ one time but she only said that Naomi must probably feel threatened by her.

So anyway, yeah, Naomi and I are fantastic together even as mates. We mesh well. We just connect. Even so, something is still making her hold back. And her walls are still sturdily standing.

Recently, I always see her every night on the phone, infuriated and sometimes with tears. And when she catches me looking at her, she would immediately turn on her heel and go into hiding. I wanted to console her and ask her what’s really going on but she just won’t let me. And everything’s just incredibly frustrating.

Fuck, Naomi. Why won’t you let me unravel you? I leant back against the bleachers and stared exasperatedly at the football field. A soccer ball bounced off my leg, and I sat up with a gasp of irritation. I swallowed the gasp when I saw who had thrown the ball—Misaki Ueno aka Pretty Girl, a teammate of mine. Impossibly gorgeous.

The tall Japanese girl was standing at the end of the row and grinning at me. “Sorry about that, Emily-chan. Believe it or not, I really didn’t mean to hit you.”

I couldn’t help smiling back. Misaki had the sweetest smile I had ever seen on a girl. She had the sweetest voice too.

Misaki daintily walked over to me, looking graceful and dazzling despite her messy ponytail and the muddy football uniform she was wearing. “Well, I did owe you one.”

I laughed, remembering how we had first met two days ago. I had gone barging in the door of the dug-out as Misaki was coming out. The door almost whacked her in the nose but she was alert and her hands came up quickly to save her pretty face. It hadn’t done much damage, bar a few broken fake yet elegant-looking fingernails. In fact, it had been the start of a beautiful friendship—between Misaki and me.  

She sat down on the space beside me, placed her bag down on the bench a step above us, and opened her bottle of water. Before taking a sip, she offered first, “Need some water?”

Smiling gratefully, I shook my head and mumbled, “Nope, but thank you.”

“What’s wrong, Emily-chan?” she asked, a look of concern on her face. “I was watching you from down there and you looked unhappy.”

I reached for the soccer ball and hugged it to my chest. “It’s kind of a long, complicated story, Misaki.” I have to add, she had the sweetest-smelling super-straight, long black hair as well.

“Trust me, I’m a good listener,” Misaki said softly. “But before that—” she reached up and dug out something from her bag. “Let me get us something to nibble.” She opened a small pack of Twizzlers Rainbow Twists and offered it to me.

I pulled out a couple of the colourful candy twists. “You don’t have to hear my drama, though,” I said, smiling shyly at her. “It’s a little pathetic. And the last thing I need is a pity party.” I shifted on the metal bench and started biting on a licorice.

“Again, trust me,” she insisted, smiling benignly.

“Okay. All right,” I mumbled. “Well . . .” My fingers nervously clung to the hem of my football shorts, “there’s this girl that I really fancy and we’ve gotten real close but,” I shrugged, “I don’t know, she doesn’t seem interested in me and doesn’t seem to see me in, you know, that way.”

I shot a look at Misaki, gauging the effect of my revelation.

Misaki didn’t seem to be bothered the slightest bit. In fact, she had this dazzling smile. “Very cute.” After taking a bite of licorice, she looked fixedly at me. “Have you somehow given this girl a clue that you like her?”

I pensively traced the design of the soccer ball on my lap with my fingers. “Well, I’ve been there for her and just trying to be a supportive friend and I’ve been . . . subtly flirting with her,” I admitted sheepishly, and Misaki let out a cute laugh at this. “There were some sparks and some magical moments, too. But sometimes she’s so elusive and so guarded, you know. It’s hard labour to figure out what she’s thinking and feeling.”

“Well, just give it time,” the pretty girl advised. “Maybe she’s just trying to process her feelings.”

My forehead scrunched up. “What is there to process? It’s either you like me or you don’t.”

“Trust me,” she said, her soft gaze shifting to the noisy football field, “it’s not as easy as that.”

I studied Misaki out of the corner of my eye as she was quietly nibbling a Twizzler. She was just so drop-dead gorgeous—someone who could easily win a spot and be high on anyone’s list of desirable girls. She was definitely out of my league—out of anyone’s league, for that matter.

I remember the first time I spotted her whilst I was chillin’ with Halo and Freddie at the benches. She was with her friends in front of the International Centre building, holding her can of Coke, looking like a Vogue model. She was wearing some really fancy clothes which I thought only made her look more stunning.

“Do you want to hear something honest?” I suddenly blurted out.

Misaki turned to me again, smiling. “Sure, why not.”

“Most, if not all, of the guys I know have a huge crush on you.”

She let out a disbelieving chuckle. “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I swear,” I told her. “I mean, personally, I think you’re pretty, Misaki. Like, really, utterly gorgeous.”

“Stop it, Emily-chan.” She tucked her dark hair self-consciously over her ear, blushing.

I let out a laugh. “I’m serious. I’m not hitting on you; I’m just saying the truth,” I told her. “You’re really beautiful. And I’m sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable, but I just had to say it.”

“It’s okay. I love your honesty. And thanks, Emily-chan. You’re very sweet,” she said. Then her eyes twinkled and she looked at me and gently touched my arm with a hand. “Wanna hear a true story of mine?”

I turned on the bleacher bench so that I was facing my friend completely and raised my brows in anticipation. It took her a few seconds to start.

“I’m not used to all this flattery and attention, to be honest. Nor is it something that I take pleasure in. But this is definitely better than how I used to be treated before,” she said at length. “See, when I was younger, I had trouble finding friends and was bullied pretty much throughout my childhood. I would go home and just cry sometimes. But even at home, I couldn’t really find comfort. My classmates  . . . and my big sister Miyuki used to actually call me Kurobuta . . .”

“Dark pig,” I translated, frowning in disbelief.

“Sou desu (Yes). Dark pig,” she said, smiling a bit sadly at the thought. “They would all make fun of me ‘cos I used to be so chubby and my skin was darker compared to normal Japanese people. I was an awkward child, you know. And sort of geeky. With unattractive glasses. And I had the world’s biggest crush on Tinkerbell.”

“Tinkerbell?” I repeated with a little chuckle, amused and surprised. Whoa. Was this girl hinting on her Sapphic tendencies?

“Yes,” she said, blushing some more, “which, obviously, the people around me found really weird. I couldn’t blame them, though. People could be so . . .”

“Insensitive, yes,” I said when she trailed off. “Tell me about it. My sister Katie is the same. She calls me a pushover and a loser. But not everyone is like that, you know.”

“I know, Emily-chan.” Misaki’s brown eyes had that certain twinkle when she gazed at me. “You’re not like that. In fact, I think you’re pretty special.” The corners of her mouth turned up in a shy smile after uttering these words.

My face grew crimson with embarrassment, and I played nervously with a lock of my hair. “There are lots of special people in the world, Misaki,” I managed to say. “You just have to look for them.”

“Hey, Emily! Misaki-chan!” A super sweaty Sean yelled from bottom of the bleachers, grinning and looking all pumped-up. “You girls still down for another game? Look!” He pointed somewhere. “We’ve got cheerleaders!”

Misaki and I looked toward the direction where he was pointing and my heart leapt in my chest right away. Sitting on the bleachers on the other side of the football pitch across from us were a bunch of Japanese students and Halo, JJ and . . . Naomi. I felt my face heat up a little. I couldn’t say for certain but I think Naomi had been watching us from afar.

Misaki grinned back at the lad and shouted softly, “Okay, Sean! We’ll be down there!” Then the pretty girl stood up, took the ball from my lap with one hand and held my hand with the other. “C’mon, Emily-chan. Ready to kick some more butt?”

“Let’s do this,” I answered, and Misaki excitedly tugged me up. Hooking her arm around mine, we started down the steps. I cocked an amused brow at the tall girl. “Tinkerbell, huh?”

Misaki flashed a little grin as she blushed. “I like tiny, cuddly people.”

It was Saturday morning. Bright sunlight. I was at the open window in my room, letting a gentle cool mid-October autumn breeze come through. I just got back from an early-morning Calligraphy make-up class. I wanted to just lie on my bed and sleep again but there’s a baseball match I have yet to go to in the afternoon and a Skype appointment with my sister in a little while.

Katie left a message on my Facebook wall yesterday saying that she’s got some big news. Perhaps she found a new boytoy after finally dumping Danny six days ago. She sounded so excited and I just couldn’t wait to hear about it so I scheduled for us to meet online at 11 AM Kyoto time.

With a blueberry muffin clutched in my hand, I parked myself before my laptop and logged on to Skype.

I was welcomed by a very sleepy Katie in her pyjamas, grimacing in front of the webcam. Her eyes were puffy and her auburn hair was unkempt. She was seated on a swivel chair, hugging her knees into her chest.

“Good morning, Katie,” I greeted my sister, beaming as I took in her piteous state.

“What’s so good about three in the fucking morning, eh?” Katie retorted whilst adjusting the volume of her speakers. “And please don’t eat that muffin in front of me, Emz. You look filthy.” 

Aww . . . That was exactly why I really missed my tit of a twin so much.

“How are you? I still miss you,” I told her with a forced smile, as I absently played with the mouse with my free hand. I was trying to hold back tears. I missed my sister. I missed our room. I missed home so much.

“Still fabulous as ever. I’m fucking killing the lingerie design course,” she replied with a smug glow of self-congratulation. Then she gave a pouty sad face. “And I still miss you too, Emz.”

“Good for you, Kates,” I said, taking a huge bite of my muffin. Katie looked grossed out which made me giggle a little. “How about Mum and Dad?”

“Dad’s busy with the gym. He’s been going on about building another one in the city centre which is kind of a big deal. Business is fucking blooming, obviously.” Katie was grinning like a shot fox. Okay. That means more allowance for her. “And Mum’s writing for some local TV commercial.”

“That’s great. And James?”

“The li’l perve is still a li’l earthworm but he’s getting all buffed up for his very first taekwondo match next week.”

My brows rose up. “Whoa. He’s really taking it seriously, huh.”

Katie rolled her eyes and chuckled in response. “Well, I just wish the li’l earthworm all the luck in the world. Now Dad wakes him up at 5 in the morning every fucking day for his daily workout, much to his annoyance.”

“So,” I shifted in my swivel chair and got directly to the point, “what’s the big news, Kates?”

Katie leant forward and her face brightened up. “Danny’s got a modeling gig in Tokyo this December!”

I took another bite of the muffin. “So?” I said uninterestedly. 

Danny. Again. I don’t give a toss about that tool Daniel Guillermo.

“So I’m coming with him, Emily!” she squealed. “I’ll get to see you in a couple of months!”

“You’re shitting me, right?” I could just feel my blood boiling in my body.

“Nope. We’ll be celebrating New Year there as well,” she said excitedly, oblivious to my sudden change of mood. 

“No. What I’m saying is that, are you shitting me?” I shot her a disbelieving and livid scowl. “You and Danny are together again? I thought you said you dumped him already six days ago?”

Katie’s face suddenly turned serious as she quietly reasoned, “Danny’s changed, Emz. He promised he’ll never cheat on me again.”

My lips opened slightly in a snarl. Bollocks. Complete and utter bollocks.

“Emily, Danny seems really serious now,” Katie insisted. “He even told his ex-girlfriend Allie to never come near him again. He even surprised me with one thousand roses at school. He went out of his way to—”

I couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Jesus Christ, Katie. Seriously!” I exploded. “How could you be so blind? Danny’s womanising checkered past could fill a book the size of a fucking Webster’s dictionary. A bloke like that wouldn’t behave for long! You said he told Allie to fuck off. That’s one girl, Katie. What about those hundred other girls he messes around with?”

Katie didn’t even blink at my outburst. “Why don’t you just open up to him?”

I gritted my teeth, my jaw tightening. Not a chance. Not a bloody chance. I knew blokes like Danny. He’d been with more girls than I could count.

Including Katie.

He’d also cheated on more girls than I could count.

Including Katie.

“No. No fucking way,” I muttered through my teeth, seething in anger. “Danny Guillermo will never be a part of my life. Ever.”

Katie stared at me, her lips twitching. The enraged look on my face didn’t change. Sorry, not sorry.

She then put her hand up to her chest and began acting like my words had actually hurt her feelings. “You know your opinion means a lot to me, Emily. And you know what? I’m hurt. That is pretty fucking awful of you, Emz. But I’m just gonna let this one go for now. I don’t want to ruin your day and I want to have a peaceful sleep,” my sister said, shrugging it off surprisingly. Then she grinned at me again like nothing happened. “So will I be seeing my favourite twin sister?”

“Of course, you twat,” I said, still sounding bitter, yet my black mood was fading a little.

“So how far is Katoyo—err—Yokoto?” she asked, ever inattentive, and I had to do a face-palm. “Or is it Toyoko?”

I took my hand off my face and finally corrected her wryly, “It’s Kyoto, Katie. Kyoto.” Fuck’s sake. I had been babbling about ‘Kyoto this, Kyoto that’ to her nonstop and she couldn’t even bring herself to learn the name.

Katie waved a dismissive hand at me. “Whatever. They all sound the same.” Jesus, I surrender. “So how far is it?” she asked again.

With a sigh, I informed her, “Just a couple of hours by bullet train . . . But that’s like £101 one-way.”

“Cool. Danny’ll take care of that,” said Katie, and I didn’t react. I just didn’t bother to conceal my disdain. I still couldn’t believe Katie gave in after just six days. Six fucking days. God, my sister was easy and a bloody martyr.

“So have you made some new friends, Emily?” my sister changed the subject.

I shoved the last bit of muffin into my mouth. “Yep,” I mumbled. “They’re an awesome bunch.”

“Bunch?” Katie drew back rather disbelievingly. “Wow. I might’ve underestimated your social skills, Emz,” she said, snickering, “didn’t think you can handle more than two friends.”

“You are still an annoying cow, Katiekins. You haven’t changed a bit,” I told her with a scowl.

My twin narrowed her eyes at me and smirked. “And I can tell . . . you, on the other hand, have changed a lot. I’m proud of you, dear sister.” She flashed me a genuine smile. “Seriously, though, I am. Keep it up.”

I gave her a lopsided smile. “Erm, I don’t need anyone’s validation, but thanks, sis.”

“Can I see your room?” Katie then asked eagerly with an inquisitive look.

“I already showed it to you last time.”

“Yeah, but I was busy painting my nails and talking about my lovelife, remember? Show me, show me!” she urged.

“Fine.” I grabbed my laptop and slowly spun it around to give my twin an excellent full view of my room.

“Whoa. Holy fuck. It’s pretty neat,” I heard Katie gasp. “Thousand times tidier than ours!”

“Whatever,” I told her, placing the laptop back down on my desk. “Your side is the only chaotic and fucked up part of our room, Katie. And it perfectly mirrors your life and your decision-making, to be honest.”

“Condescending bitch,” she jokingly spat.

I stuck my tongue out at her and merely giggled. I had definitely missed these little banters I used to more frequently have with my sister.

“So . . . any fit boys over there?” Katie playfully inquired, leaning forward a bit more. “Care to introduce me?”

“Shut up. I don’t tolerate cheating,” I said. “Even though I hate Danny from the very core of my being.”

“What about fit girls?” She wiggled her brows.

I smirked, blushing. “Yeah, there’s a fucking scenario everywhere,” I told her. “But, erm, I only have eyes for a certain girl . . .”

“Oooooh. Emzy’s in love!” Katie teased in a sing-songy voice. “What’s the lucky chick’s name? And how is she as a person?”

“Her name is Naomi,” I said. “Naomi Campbell.”

Katie’s eyes instantly bulged. “Bloody hell! The model?”

I mock scowled at her. “No, you twit!”

Katie was laughing hysterically. “Christ! I nearly believed I wasn’t the only Fitch who’s involved with a bloody model.”

“Shut it, Katie,” I said, fighting off laughter. “She’s from Melbourne. Tall, blonde, beautiful, brilliant—just perfect. But she’s better known in my personal directory as Naomi the Terrible. Naomi the Terrible because she’s terribly fit, terribly sassy, and terribly unfathomable. I have my own reasons for believing she’s terribly rotten, too.”

“Rotten?” Her brows scrunched together in curiosity.

“I don’t know. She’s a bit of a hothead and a warfreak. On the outside,” I was quick to add. “But I don’t think she really is.” 

Katie raised a dubious eyebrow, and my face heated up some more. “Why? What’s she done to you?”

“Nothing immensely malicious. She’s just cold and weird toward me sometimes. Like she’d be so friendly one sec and then completely ignores me the next. She could be very funny and insulting at the same time. I don’t get it. And it frustrates me that I couldn’t figure her out."

“Maybe she’s bipolar. Stay away from her, Emily,” my sister warned.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, Naomi could be really fun to talk to. We’ve had some pretty good times. And I do believe that deep inside she’s a sensitive, sweet, wonderful person, you know.”

“Wonderful,” Katie spat out. “Honestly, Emz, I don’t know how any sister of mine got so naive.”

“I wouldn’t call it naive. I prefer to think that I give people a fair chance.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. If you met Voldemort in a deserted alley, you’d probably think he was just out getting a breath of fresh air.”

I chose to ignore my twin’s comment and her Harry Potter reference. I didn’t have the energy to respond, not when my heart was swelled with exasperation over Naomi the Terrible. “I like her. Like really, really like her,” I said. “It’s that simple, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” My sister sighed audibly. “Really, I’m happy for you, Emily,” she said. “But if your Naomi turns out to be as terribly bitchy as the model babe Naomi, I won’t hesitate to fly over there, hunt that Aussie down with a boomerang, and strangle her with a bowyang. She fucks with you; I’m gonna cut a bitch.”

I offered an odd smile. My sister could be so aggro, it’s scary. “Erm, thanks . . . I guess. But I hope it won’t have to end that way.”

Katie yawned. “I love you, Emz, but I’m fucking knackered now,” she said groggily. “So talk to yah soon, yeah?”

I nodded. “Sure. Thanks for staying up this late for me, Kates.”

“Fucking eight-hour difference,” Katie grunted. “You owe me bigtime, sis.”

I simply chuckled at this.

“Take care of yourself, will yah?” said Katie as she pursed her lips and blew me a kiss. “You know that I will do anything to keep you safe, Emily. No one will ever hurt you and not suffer the fucking consequences. So you better warn this Aussie babe, okay?”

I nodded again, chuckling some more. Before ending the call, I looked into my sister’s determined brown eyes, a smile softening my face. I just wanted to fly over there and throw my arms around her. I loved my sister so much, in spite of myself. Katie could be rather insensitive and, yes, bitchy but she was always there to comfort and protect me.

Now all I had to worry about was not letting Naomi hurt me.

Fuck.

“Oh, fuck,” I muttered, as I glanced at the clock on my phone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I was going to be late for my first-ever Hamada Uni baseball game. Everyone’s been gushing that this will be a match worth remembering given that it’s between two massive and bloodthirsty rival schools: Hamada University and Shinya GaiDai. We had been warned by the HEP buddies that if we turn up late, we won’t be able to find a seat amongst the Hamada Uni students.

I flipped my phone closed and pocketed it, then I fumbled with the key as I quickly attempted to unlock my bicycle. Shit. The stadium must be jam-packed by now. And I didn’t want to end up sitting with a crowd of random sweaty spectators.

I hopped on my bicycle and pedalled as fast as I could. Thank heavens, the weather was cooperating.

The mid-October air was absolutely lovely. Kyoto City was mellow in the heavy sunshine, the sharp blue sky, the smells of tea and dried leaves drifting across the path. I enjoyed passing through temples, shrines, little bridges, and parks. The falling maple leaves from above and the momiji-covered streets were spellbinding.

I felt like I was inside a dream. Three weeks ago, I was in my Bristol home, lying on my bed and picturing myself in this kind of moment. And now that I was here, everything felt surreal.

I took a right at a corner and finally reached my destination. Nishikyogoku Stadium.

After finding a decent parking spot, I dismounted my bicycle, locked it, and jogged toward the stadium entrance. Bloody hell, I thought as a combination of loud low-pitched roars and high-pitched squeals hit my ears.

True enough, upon entering the arena I noticed that the people inside had gone completely bonkers. The endless cheering was deafening. There was some squabbling here and there. The ground was slippery and sticky with all the spilled drinks and littered junk food. The stadium was a right mess.

I wrestled my way through the loud and sweaty fanatics toward the nearest empty seat I could find on the nearby bleachers and looked around for familiar faces . . .

None.

I scanned the whole place. All of the HEP folks were on the other side of the stadium. The blue and white crowd—definitely Hamada University. Arse.

I sat there, awkwardly patient, as I was being relentlessly shoulder-bumped and hit by cheering balloon sticks by the Japanese hardcore fans around me. I shifted a little to the other side and couldn’t help but puff a displeased breath out my nose. I hated days like today. And this was not how I wanted my first assignment as part of a baseball match audience to be.

“Hey, babe,” called out a brawny and excessively hairy Middle Eastern-looking bloke seated just a row below me. He was grinning and winking like a proper idiotic perve and reeked of beer. “My name’s Zahir. I’m a race car dealer. What’s your name, love?”

I was never a fan of baseball. I knew nothing about the sport except that you hit the ball with a bat and then when you fuck up some person will shout “Strike 1”, “Strike 2”, “Strike 3” and then “You’re out!”. That was all. And I was pretty sure this wanker with over-gelled hair in front of me was already getting on my nerves and I was on the verge of calling a strike.

“Babes!” he called loudly again, waving his big hand in front of my face. “Hello?”

Strike 1 . . . I mentally called, putting on a blasé face.

I simply ignored the bloke and continued watching the game even though I didn’t really get what was happening. The douchebag of a race car dealer kept on being a total A-hole as he was shouting nonstop at the players below. Dude, have some fucking decency, I wanted to shout to him. To make things worse, he was rooting for the other team.

“Heeey. Do you speak English?” The wanker asked in his heavy Arabic accent, and I just kept my mouth shut. He started making silly hand movements as if attempting at sign language. “Can’t you hear me? You deaf, sweetheart?”

I merely gave him a What the fuck face which made him snort laughter and turn his attention back to the game.

It didn’t take long that the wanker had gone madder—if that was even possible—yelling, cussing, and jumping in his seat and eventually his beer splattered on my white shirt.

Bloody hell!

Irritation crept up the back of my neck. He didn’t even bother to turn around and say sorry to the people he had hassled. Someone kick this douchebag’s arse, please.

Strike 2 . . .

I was positive that every person who was seated around this bigheaded dirtball was incredibly infuriated by him. They just wouldn’t dare challenge him because (1) they’re Japanese—polite, harmless, and submissive. And (2) this obnoxious wanker was only taking full advantage of his being a foreigner.

Puffing an irritated breath, I began cleaning my shirt with the giveaway tissues in my bag.

“Wohoho!” the tosser exclaimed, laughing arrogantly, as soon as he caught sight of me. “Did I make you wet, babe? Let me help you clean up.” He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and then tried to reach out to touch me. “I can see the colour of your bra, love. Me likey.” I instantly shoved his hairy hands away and threw him an enraged look. What the actual fuck!

Strike 3! You’re fucking out!

The hairy bloke was just cackling like a proper dumbass as I awkwardly struggled to cover my chest.

“What?” he exclaimed, looking at my super annoyed face. “Chill out, beautiful. I was just trying to help you.” Surprising and pissing me off some more, he jumped onto my row and sat on the very little space next to me. I winced and shot him a mild scowl.

Then he began nudging me with his elbow. “So where you from? Can I get your digits?” He was holding his mobile phone, ready. When I didn’t respond, he kept on nudging me. “Are you deaf? Mute? Russian? Or what?”

My blood boiled wildly. Tears threatened to gather in my eyes. I easily get teary-eyed when I’m angry or upset; it’s annoying. Okay. This is it. I’ve had enough of this shit. I was gritting my teeth already. Clearly, someone has to step up. And it has to be—

“Oy, you bastard! Get your goddamn arse outta here!” Someone else beat me to it.

Hold on . . . That angry voice sounded familiar. Slowly, I turned my head around to glance up at my knight in shining armour.

My heart instantly did a cartwheel in my chest.

“Naomi?” I breathed in surprise.

“Naomi?” I breathed, surprised.

“Hey, Emily!” the blonde called out from afar, holding up a hand that was clutching a cup of beer in the air. Despite her fuming expression, Naomi dazzlingly stood with her tied wavy blond locks being blown by the gentle autumn wind. She was dressed in a tight white shirt tucked under a pair of khaki jodhpurs, and a pair of brown leather boots. In fact, she looked like a totally hot equestrienne—like one of those girls who pop in one’s fantasy along with a Hooters waitress and a sexy librarian.

With clenched fists, Naomi hastily jogged down the steps and stood in front of the annoying bloke. Towering over him with folded arms on her chest, she then glared at the stunned douchebag, nostrils flaring, and told him, “Do you mind fucking off? If you don’t, I’ll call the security.” This prompted the bloke to hurriedly be on his feet and scuttle away from our sight. 

I watched the blonde as she stared furiously at the guy’s retreating back. Okay, Wonder Woman, I thought with a little inward grin, is this the part where I get to kiss you now?

“Hi,” I greeted back timidly. “Wow. That went smooth,” I told her in awe, then added, “for you.”

Naomi huffed a breath then plopped down on the space used to be occupied by the guy. “What a fucking arsehole, that turd,” she heatedly muttered. Then her voice became softer as she glanced at me. “You ‘right, Ranga? Did he touch you?”

I drew back with a hesitant smile. Okay. New pet name. 

It was really tricky living with people from all sides of the world. They just call you all these strange names and you couldn’t tell if they’re actually bad-mouthing you or what. But “Ranga”? Hmmm . . . Yeah, I think I’ll take that.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks,” I answered at length, offering her a tiny grateful smile. “He didn’t really touch me. I stopped him before he could. But there’s beer on my boobs.” I started dabbing at the wet part of my top again with the tissue and caught the blonde following the wet trails on my semi-exposed skin with her eyes.

Naomi just let out a little—somewhat uncomfortable—laugh in response, and then she abruptly turned and shifted her attention to the game. That gave me a view of her long, elegant neck, golden-spun hair and nothing else.

Hot damn. She was ridiculously gorgeous. The radiating sun overhead had made her a thousand times more stunning. I felt her warm presence along the side of my arm. How I missed having her this close to me. I was fighting the urge to feel her light skin—to touch her hands—those ‘magical’ ones. I wondered if I would only be like this forever—merely appreciating her from afar, not being able to touch her. I dreaded the possibility.

But I was sure of one thing: Naomi cares about my well-being.

A playful thought buzzed on my mind. Was she watching me the whole time—you know, just creeping about? I could find out; I’d just have to squeeze the truth out of her.

“So,” I began, attempting to initiate a conversation. “That was a timely save . . .”

“Yeah, I was, uh, I was just walking about and, uh,” Naomi stammered as she shook her plastic cup of beer, “I caught a glimpse of your red hair and saw that guy pestering you.”

She’s bluffing. I was biting my lips to stifle a smile.

“Uh-huh,” I said, accidentally sounding rather unconvinced. “So you weren’t, you know, lurking behind me and—?”

“Fuck no,” she said a little too quickly. “I came in late and was looking for a seat. That’s all.” She shot me an unserious glare and directly turned her attention back to the pitch, muttering, “Don’t flatter yourself, hun.” 

Too defensive. Bluffing, indeed. My lips instantly curled into a smirk.

“What’s your excuse, then?” I asked her with raised brows as I continued cleaning myself up.

Naomi turned to face me with her forehead scrunched up and her eyes focused on mine. 

My heart did another cartwheel in my chest. Oh, sweet God. Those blue orbs were just magnetic. I couldn’t seem to take mine off hers. “Excuse for what?” she asked.

“For, uh, for being late, I m-mean.” It was my turn to stammer. I looked away slightly and blinked to rescue myself from drowning in her eyes.

“Oh. I had to talk to a dickhead on the phone,” she answered, deadpan, giving the tip of her nose a little scratch. “You?”

“Skyped with my sister.”

“Oh,” said the blonde. “What time is it there anyway?”

“Uhm . . .” I mentally did the math, “Around quarter to six in the morning. But when we chatted, it was only 3 AM over there.”

“Jesus, you have no mercy for your sister,” she said, shaking her head. “She must have looked like a right zombie on cam.”

“You’ve guessed right,” I told her. “I could swear I saw a trail of saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth.”

Naomi simply snort-laughed and bit her lip—which I thought was her sexiest habit. God, not only was this woman drop-dead gorgeous, but she radiated sexual attraction. It was almost impossible to sit next to her and keep my mind on things like this baseball game. Watching her every sexy move out of the corner of my eye had been torture. She had a wonderful mouth. Nice full lips, incredibly feminine. Probably she was a terrific kisser, probably I wouldn’t mind test-driving her lips. I gave myself a mental head slap. Emily, Emily, Emily! What are you thinking?

Naomi and I were just completely opposites. I was a quiet overachiever who was probably going to spend the rest of my life working behind a desk and dealing with paperwork. Naomi Campbell would find me boring beyond belief. Not that I knew the blonde that well. But she seemed like the type of person who fancies spontaneity and adventures and other cool things that were probably too much for me to handle. 

For a long while, we watched the match—with me struggling to concentrate and Naomi looking ever so cool as she sipped her beer. We booed and cheered with the Hamada U crowd. And for the life of me, I still couldn’t figure out why a lot of people like baseball. I found the sport a little dragging, to be honest.

“But from the bottom of my heart,” I spoke again, making Naomi look at me, “thanks for saving me.”

“That’s okay, but I hardly saved your life, Emily.” She smiled, what a way to be modest?

“Well, I think you were my knight in shining armour, that wanker would have probably done nastier things, if you hadn’t stepped in.”

Naomi turned bright red, with her ears starting the colour-change before it etched all the way down to her neck. “Can we talk about something else, please?” She shook her cup of beer and watched the frothy top swirl in the centre of the dark liquid. I watched too, fascinated by what she found fascinating. The blonde was different, friendlier, strange even, and painfully shy.

“Umm . . . sure, okay. I just wanted you to know I’m grateful, that’s all.”

“I know, I just don’t wanna think about what would have happened to you had I not barged in. You looked like you were gonna burst into tears.”

I smiled and replaced the packets of tissues in my bag then zipped the bag closed, my mood getting better and better. “As a token of appreciation, will you allow me to treat you to a sandwich or perhaps another cup of beer?”

She thought about it for a moment, then she finished off her drink and replied, “Sure, why not. I could use some more beer.”

After politely asking the Japanese blokes sitting next us to save our seats, we got up and made our way up the bleachers.

“So you like baseball?” Naomi asked whilst we walked, glancing at me sideways. Whoa, the Arctic Ice Queen was getting friendlier by the second.

I let out a snort of a chuckle. “No. Not at all,” I answered. “I told you, football’s just about the most physical I could get. You’ve seen me.”

“You’re right. And you know, I never did get a chance to really critique the way you played,” she said.

I rolled my eyes flippantly and snorted. “Please. The last thing I need is more of your insults, Naomi.”

“I thought you were amazing,” Naomi said as soon as we reached the food stall, her statement catching me off guard.

I blinked, staring up at her. “I’m sorry, did I hear you right?”

Naomi smirked. “I kid you not. You’ve got surprisingly real skills, Em. Emphasis on ‘surprisingly.’”

“Thanks, I guess.” Feeling my face go red, I then looked down and fiddled with my stained shirt.

After ordering our drinks plus fish and chips for me, Naomi shot me another light and friendly question.

“So you haven’t done snowboarding and surfing and that sort of stuff?”

I shook my head as I handed a couple of bills to the cashier. “Nope. Like I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never been one for the great outdoors. I’ve tried camping, though, and slept in a tent.”

“That’s funny,” Naomi said, grabbing the cups of beer from the counter. “You have a gamine quality in your face which is completely misleading because there isn’t an ounce of gamine in your personality.”

I arched a brow. “Did you just insult me?”

She turned to me with a sexy raised brow. “Are you insulted?”

“Am I supposed to be?”

The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just keeping it real.” She then handed me my cup of beer and said, “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I returned. I touched my cup to hers and we both took our sips, smirking at each other.

Our make-up Calligraphy class this morning suddenly popped on my mind. I looked at her more closely and grinned. “You know, I never got the chance to really critique you in Calligraphy class today,” I told her, borrowing her words. “Got another gold star from Kieran, eh?” I said, nudging her arm lightly with my elbow. “Well done, magical fingers!”

“Yep, thanks to these,” she claimed as she jiggled her free hand like before. “But Kieran’s great. I just learn from the master.” Grinning, she handed me my cone of fish and chips.

I took a bite of a beer-battered halibut. “Yeah, he’s quite amusing.” Then imitating Kieran’s tone, I continued, “Goys, stop faffin’ around an’ concentrate on yer work. Goys, ya have till move yer hand like this . . . Kow-now kuhn-gee (Kono kanji).”

Naomi cleared her throat. “Whoa. Look who’s talking!” she scoffed. “Yours is worse, F.Y.I., you li’l pom.”

“Mine?” I jokingly glowered at her. “What’s wrong with—”

The blonde then mimicked my voice and accent. “Sow duh-yow (Sou dayo). Soo-buh-ruh-shee tow-mow (Subarashii to omou).” She was now laughing uncontrollably as she started ahead down the steps. 

Damn, I thought as I watched her make fun of me and followed her, albeit at a slow pace, back to our seats. I so want to hate her right now but I can’t . . . Like I said, Naomi Campbell’s just so fucking lovable. And the sound of her rare laughter was so divine.

When we got back to our spot, everyone else was already up on their feet, anxious about how the match will end. So we just stood there and Naomi hadn’t stopped laughing.

“Piss off, Campbell,” I muttered, dropping my gaze to my cone of oily fish and chips and trying to suppress a smile.

“No, but to be honest,” the blonde said when she sobered, “I really enjoy our Calligraphy class. I guess I like it for its aesthetic elements.”

“Aesthetic elements?”

“I love the elegant lines, the grace of the brush strokes, the strange conflict of concentration and relaxation, you know. Love the way the black ink shines wetly in the light of the room, the sharp contrast to the paper we draw it on and—Fuck me, Emily,” muttered Naomi all of a sudden, stopping short, and my head instantly snapped back to her.

“Look!” she exclaimed, pointing her finger somewhere.

I let my gaze turn to the direction of her finger. What. The. Fuck.

Four screwy half-naked guys holding blue and white cheering balloon sticks—noticeably Sean, Freddie, Thomas, and Cook—were running and screaming around the bleachers over on the other side of the pitch, to the surprise and delight of many people. Way to pump up the crowd, lads. Sometimes I was just proud to call them my friends.

Sometimes.

“NAOMI! EMILY!” someone called over the loud cheering.

It was Karen—with Panda, Halo, and Effy trotting behind her.

“Hey, guys!” I greeted them as they tried to squeeze into the little space on our row. Naomi only rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. 

Okay. Naomi + Effy = discord.

“We’ve been looking all over for you two!” cried Halo. “Don’t you check your phones?”

I rummaged through my bag and checked my mobile phone.

7 missed calls; 5 new messages

I lifted my head up to look at Halo guiltily and said, “Sorry about that . . .” Halo offered me a weak smile in response.

The blue and white crowd suddenly went wild with cheering as the final inning went on and Hamada University’s best batter scored another homerun. Shinya GaiDai was ahead a few points. It was too early to call a winner, though.

“Whizzer game, innit?” Panda enthused, jumping on the balls of her feet. “Both teams are phenomenal, ey?”

Halo clapped her balloon sticks together. “Honestly, it’s a toss-up between the two. And you can feel the tension even between the fans—Ouch!” She scowled as a male Shinya fan accidentally stepped on her foot. “It’s freaking insane in here. I can’t breathe.”

Karen daintily wiped the sweat off her forehead with a tissue napkin. “It’s because Shinya GaiDai and Hamada U are at each other’s throat from the get-go. Both teams want to fucking destroy each other,” she explained. “They’re just hungry for the title of Japan’s amateur best. Last year, I heard there were even fists that actually flew mid-game. The assistant coaches from both teams charged toward the middle of the pitch and sumo-wrestled each other. The whole stadium went mad.”

Effy smirked as she stared at the Aussie blonde who now has a taut face on. I smiled inwardly, remembering the sumo wrestling match between Naomi and Effy about a week ago. No matter how ridiculous it went, it was fucking intense and I just had to stop the bout and declare a draw.

“Emily,” Effy suddenly called, moving a little closer to me, and I saw Naomi’s eyebrow twitch.

“Yes, Effy?” I responded, slightly hesitant.

“Wanna get some cupcakes later?” asked the gorgeous brunette.

I saw Naomi scoff soundlessly and roll her eyes heavenward.

“There’s a new shop nearby Sanjo Station and I thought you might wanna check it out,” Effy continued, ignoring the blonde’s reaction.

Naomi cleared her throat and turned to me, her eyes suddenly bright with interest. Uh-oh. “Oh, is that the one you told me about, Em?”

I nodded, smiling uncomfortably whilst nibbling on a potato fry. “Yep. But you were busy so—”

“Do you want to go later, Emily?” Effy pushed.

“Actually,” Naomi interrupted, “I was gonna ask Emily if she wants to—”

The brunette arched a brow, folding her arms over her chest, as she looked at Naomi. “Oh, I’m sorry. But I kind of asked Emily first.”

“But she asked me first,” Naomi said in defence.

“Yeah, but you turned her down, didn’t you?” the brunette shot back, smirking. “I think that invitation has expired.”

I froze, whilst Karen, Halo and Panda just watched in half-amusement and half-bewilderment.

“Well, then, why don’t we just ask Emily what she wants,” the Aussie blonde proposed, turning to me.

“Okay. Fair enough,” Effy agreed. Then she turned to face me as well. “What do you say, Emily?”

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “I, uh, I think—”

Suddenly, the blue and white crowd roared and Panda was squealing her lungs out. The tension between the two girls was swamped by the blaring cheers. Apparently, Hamada University won. Wow. I didn’t even know how the game ended and how the hell we won. Jesus. I am probably the worst and lamest sports spectator on the planet.

“Laaaaadies! There you are!” a euphoric Cook, with the lads running behind him, called to us. “Victory paaaaarty at Blackout Club later!”

“Emilio, ye comin’?” Cook asked when he noticed I was the only one who didn’t react. I was busy worrying about my answer to the gorgeous blue-eyed girls’ question. The Irish bloke put his arm around my shoulders. “C’mon, I’m gonna help ya pick up some chicks!”

“I don’t think Emily needs help in that department, James Cook,” Effy said, smirking and giving me a wink.

Cook grinned. “You actually just made a point there, Miss Stonem.” Then he turned to me again. “So ye in, Emilio?”

It took me a few heartbeats before I nodded. “Okay.”

The lads cheered.

Thomas spoke, “So, the plan is, we’ll all cycle back to the dorm, get dressed real quick, then take a cab together to Blackout Club. Free flowing drinks only run for about a couple of hours so we must be there on time.”

I let out a long sigh of relief when everyone else seemed like they were down for it. I was safe. There was no need to make a decision, after all. I was not mentally and emotionally prepared to witness another Clash of the Titans. For me, one rivalry for that day was fucking enough.

“It’s settled, then,” Cook said, grinning. “Can’t wait to see you babes in your sexy club outfits on the dance floor!”

I smirked. That I might be prepared for.

Blackout Club looked like an ordinary hang-out for trendy people from the outside, with big tinted windows and a couple of bouncers Halo named Tweedledee and Tweedledum at the door. Halo, Panda and I went in and I was immediately welcomed by a swirl of smoke and loud electronic dance music. Except for the staccato pulse of coloured strobes all over the place, the lights were low, and it took me a moment to get my bearings.

We stepped a bit further inside. Quick flashes of light illuminated the crowded dance floor that stretched across the large, cavernous space with funky décor.

“Well, here goes,” I muttered to myself, diving into the crowd. I threw a couple of elbows and followed Halo and Panda through the mass of stylish club-goers.

“It’s the coolest club in all of Kansai!” Halo shouted above the music, which was quite hard, not really my cup of tea. “Karen said VIP was upstairs, come on!” She pied-pipered the way up the staircase to our own little place of exclusivity. At the balcony-style VIP section, the music was so much louder that I knew we wouldn’t be able to hear one other if we weren’t talking to our ears, there were neon lights and lasers engraving the mass of bodies dancing around.

                                                             

“Do you think Thommo will like my outfit?” Panda asked, noticeably excited, as we flashed our wristbands to a security bloke who must have gotten out of Japanese prison that day.

I was very close to blurting out, “Do you think Naomi will like my outfit?” but good thing I had restrained myself.

Halo smiled teasingly up at Panda. “You’ve really gone into Operation Get a Snog from Thomas overdrive, haven’t you, Pandapops?” She adjusted the cleavage-baring top of the Swede. “Yes, you look fab, doll. Thomas is going to wet himself when he sees you.”

I looked around me. The men were hanging around us, waiting for us to look available like circling vultures. I suddenly felt like I was over-dressed and glossed with my make-up, sugary and summery mini dress—a combination of a pastel blue top with a large bow at the front and white lace skirt, and matching pastel blue stilettos. I might be a lesbian, but I take pleasure in dressing up and putting on make-up and just being a girl. This was one of those very few activities that Katie and I would actually enjoy doing together.

“Am I wearing the right clothes?” I asked my friends instead.

Halo pushed the stray lock of bright red hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear and then she nodded. “Don’t sweat it, girl. You look perfect.” You can always count on Heaven Lopez for the finishing touches and pep talks.

I had a butterfly farm fluttering in my tummy. I couldn’t wait to see Naomi and for her to see me. But is she in? I wondered. We left the dorm by small groups and some people went ahead a couple of hours earlier. We turned up late because Halo took so long dressing all three of us up.

After having my foot mashed and my hair pulled and narrowly avoiding a guy whose drink was teetering on a collision course with my mini-dress, I finally got to reach the corner booth where my friends were seated around a table full of half-empty alcohol bottles and glasses. Some of them looked at least a bit tipsy already.

There was a collective intake of breath when we reached the table, which I took as a distinct positive, especially when Karen said, “Hey, sexy ladies!” She was obviously delighted to see us.

Karen was dressed like a porn star, but a classy one, you understand. “Take your seat, girls,” she said. You missed the free drinks. But good thing, I was able to hoard vodka.” She began pouring liquor into some unused old-fashioned glasses.

Panda moved swiftly toward Thomas, practically sitting in the guy’s lap. Halo sat down on the leather wrap around couch and chatted with a seemingly buzzed Sean and a stary Freddie.

Cook was busy hitting on the Japanese girls at the table next to ours when he caught sight of us. “Holy fock, girls! Ye’ve got tits!”

Halo smiled and said, “Why, Cook, thank you,” and then she smacked him around the head with her purse.

“Fock,” Cook said, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t fucking objectify us, you dick,” Halo said. “And stop staring at my chest.”

Thomas snorted. Panda bumped him with her elbow, and Thomas grinned, sneaking his arm around her shoulders.

I dragged an empty egg-shaped chair and sat down next to Karen, ignoring Cook’s pervy grin and flatteries. The French girl’s light brown eyes were twinkling. “I’ve to say, you look hella hot, Baby Fitch,” she offered, gesturing at my outfit. “Dressed to impress, huh?” She handed me a glass filled with vodka.

I took the glass and eyed its dodgy contents with hesitation, and Karen laughed loudly at this.

The French brunette touched my arm. “I have obviously scarred you for life, I’m sorry. Don’t worry, Baby Fitch. It’s pure vodka.” She gave me a reassuring wink.

“Where’s Effy? And the others?” I asked the brunette after taking a tiny sip of vodka.

Karen drank from her own glass as well. “Effy and Ayami flaked. JJ has some training shit.” She waved a Who cares? hand. “Anyway, it’s all good. The fewer the better here in Blackout Club. The less wasted people and passed out bodies to take care of, you know what I mean.”

I squinted in the direction of the tiny makeshift VIP dance floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Naomi, but only saw unfamiliar glistening faces and whirling manes of hair.

“What about Naomi? I thought she’s here,” I asked in practiced nonchalance, taking another sip.

Karen vaguely pointed downstairs. “She said she had to take a call. Her phone kept ringing. She’s somewhere downstairs. Or maybe she went home already. I don’t know.” She gave a casual shrug. “You know that vixen. Not exactly a people-person.”

Twenty minutes passed in a blur of awful mixing. Girls dressed as short-skirted cheerleaders paraded around the VIP area handing out free lollipops for those suffering the too-much-alcohol desert-mouth syndrome, and tequila shots. Panda and Thomas were surgically attached and Karen and Halo were flirting with some Hamada U baseball players who were buying them drinks. Meanwhile, I was getting chatted up left right and centre. Apparently, being a redhead ups your stakes on the sexometer. Unfortunately, none of them had a vagina.

I finished off the vodka, hoping it would improve my mood; however, the loud, bass-heavy electronic dance music jabbed steadily at my temples. Suddenly I wanted to go home.

“C’mon, guys, let’s go down and hit the dance floor!” Halo proposed. Karen, Cook and Sean readily got up. Freddie just stayed put in his seat. Thomas and Panda seemed to be stuck in their own little world on the couch.

I half-refilled my glass with vodka and got up, but I didn’t follow them to the dance floor. “I’m gonna go to the restroom,” I told them, slipping away ahead of them down to the main floor.

I lied. I just needed to go someplace a little more chill and look for Naomi. I didn’t really plan on going for a wander; my stiletto heels were a cunt. Good thing, the main floor vibe was less suffocating and the music was also relatively better down here. I looked around and fiddled absently with the front bow of my top. Where could she be?

My head whipped around, hearing a sudden loud cheering. Cook appeared on a mobile stage in the middle of the dance floor with a couple of Hamada U cheerleaders still in their sexy cute uniform. An MC was rapping over the top of some funked-up tune and people in the club were all going mental, bouncing up and down.

After rolling my eyes and snort-laughing, I downed half of the vodka. My legs were hurting, my eyes stung from the smoke, and I was sick of telling drunken boys to piss off and leave me alone. Everyone else was having a wicked time – Halo and Karen were dancing like pop pixies, surrounded by boys and carrying off the “look but don’t touch” vibe really well. Their gang of admirers all kept a respectful distance and if they got too close, they gave them a Look.

My gaze lit on the exit. Maybe I should just haul my pathetic butt back to the dorm.

“Emilioooo! Come on stage!” Cook called to me as he went on dancing. “Join us, love!”

Glaring at him, I shook my head furiously, then quickly I sneaked to the bar and sat in one corner. It was nicely not-so-loud over here.

After finishing off the vodka, I waved at a bartender. “One mojito, please,” I said to the Latino-looking bartender, and he nodded and got busy right away.

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and glanced around Blackout Club for a sign of the blonde. I was tempted to text her, but stopped myself. I didn’t want Naomi to think I was a clingy friend. I shifted on the stool in a daze, waiting for my mojito to arrive, vowing that by the time I’d finished it, I would’ve snapped out of this mood and be able to go and dance like a loon.

The bartender reappeared in front of me, giving me a Collins glass filled with my favourite Cuban cocktail drink, and I handed him 1,000 yen—drinks here were bloody expensive, yes. I took a gulp of mojito before playfully taking a sip of the extra lime wedge the bartender was so nice to give me. I was not a drinker, normally I didn’t like to drink, but I knew the nice feeling of being drunk or at least a little lightheaded and that was exactly what I needed right now. I moved a little to look inside the club again, I couldn’t see Naomi anywhere. I took a drink of my mojito but frowned when I saw that it was already nearly empty. But that was okay. We were on the right track tonight.

Little did I find out the bar was a pool of the mingingest older blokes from hell. “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk past again?” “That dress is very becoming on you. Of course, if I were on you I’d be coming too.” “Your red hair is so sexy. Can I marry you?” Argh!

I finished the rest of my mojito and buried my head in my hands. I was fed up of the constant barrage and bum gropes. One more lame and cheesy pick-up line and I swear to god I would—

“Hey, beautiful.” The proposition surprisingly came from a woman this time. “I thought your hair was on fire, like my pants.” I looked up, turned around and saw Naomi standing behind me, smirking her gorgeous smirk.

Greek Goddess, anyone? With her aquiline nose, hypnotic blue eyes and fabulously-set blond hair, she really stood out amongst the mere mortals. I felt heat take over my whole body. I only hoped my face wasn’t as red as I thought it had become.

Naomi moved to lean on the counter, cocking a mischievous eye at me, and I noticed her outfit was breathtaking as well. She was wearing a sexy white mini dress and a pair of fabulous light grey suede high heels.

I fought to restrain a grin that was twitching at the corners of my mouth and, instead, I let out an audible sigh as my shoulders dropped. “Oh thank God. I thought it was another—”

“Gross old creep?” the striking Aussie blonde finished for me. “Tell me about it. This place is just bursting with them.”

I let out a laugh, then rested an elbow on the counter and looked at her more closely. “Where’d you disappear to? I’ve—erm—I mean, everyone’s been looking for you. They thought you sneaked out already.”

Naomi grimaced slightly as she slid onto the stool next to me. “I just needed some fresh air. So I went out for a bit.” She placed down on the counter the empty beer bottle she had been clutching.

“So, are you planning to play keep away from the crowd, or . . .” I left the question unfinished. She would fill in the blank if she needed to.

She gave a nonchalant half-shrug. “Yeah, I just don’t feel like being a social butterfly tonight.”

I raised a teasing brow. “Were you ever?”

“Shut up. I’m mingling with you now.” Faking annoyance, Naomi turned to flag down the Latino bartender as I laughed. “Two Corona beers, please.”

“Two?” I asked, bemused.

She turned to me, a grin creeping over her luscious red lips. “One for me, one for you. I can’t let you just stare at me while I drink and babble, can I? That’s not fun at all.”

I drew back in mock amazement. “Wow. You plan to babble?”

Naomi threw me a quick fake glare. “Shut up—”

I fell into a fit of giggles when Naomi’s phone suddenly buzzed in her silver sling bag.

The waiter came over and placed down two bottles of beer in front of us. Toying with the lime wedge garnish of my Corona, I watched Naomi out of the corner of my eye as she texted on her moby, a grim look on her face. Most likely the “dickhead” again. She seemed suddenly in a bad mood upon shutting her phone, merely looking down at the bar countertop.

“That was a good one, though—that pick-up line,” I told her, hoping it will lighten the mood.

The blonde raised her head to look at me, now grinning a little, and I knew I had been successful. “Right? I’ve got a few more.”

I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “Let’s hear ‘em.”

Naomi suddenly leant toward me, looked straight into my eyes so sexily that my knees actually wobbled, and brushed her fingers seductively against her jaw. “Hey,” she purred, “you look like an uglier Mila Kunis. Want a drink?”

I erupted in laughter. We did a quick clinking of beer bottles in silent ‘Cheers’.

“That wouldn’t work, would it?” She grimaced very briefly, then took a gulp of her beer.

I shook my head. “I’d rather eat my own toe cheese.”

This made Naomi laugh a little. “How about extra tequila shots just to break the ice?” she offered, with a gorgeous curling up of her mouth. “Maybe then my awesome chat-up lines would finally work on you.”

“I’m not sure it’s safe to have those shots here, though.” I gestured cautiously toward the older blokes around us at the bar.

Naomi smirked, tapping me on my leg. “Don’t worry, I’m right here. No one can touch you.”

“You ladies want a drink?” We had just been talking there exactly three minutes and if I were to put myself in Cassie’s shoes, this bloke was a two on the scale: England shirt, baggy jeans, white trainers, skinhead, and red oily face. He also had a massive zit on his chin.

“No thanks, we just got one,” Naomi replied briskly, blatantly holding her Corona beer up then taking a drink.

“So? I wasn’t actually going to buy you one, it’s just a way to get the ball rolling, innit?” And he had the cheek to wink! “A drink can lead to other things, if you’re lucky.”

“Oh, you’re a real charmer, aren’t you?” The blonde was on a roll. “I mean, that line’s so good I think I might actually want to have sex with you, right now. Shall I meet you in the loo in five minutes, give me time to get my underwear off.” She smiled, ironically, of course.

“You bitch, I was only being nice,” he huffed.

“Yeah? Well, don’t. I’d rather be a bitch than a walking dictionary of degrading one-liners and egocentric shite with a face where you could fucking fry an egg.” He was baffled – long words were not part of his vocab.

I burst out laughing and covered my mouth instantly.

“Fucking lesbian . . .” The guy tottered away, pissed off.

But the blonde wasn’t done yet. “And, oh, there’s a product called Proactiv. You might want to sort out your face first before leeching, you cheeky fucker.”

The guy looked over his shoulder at us and gave us the middle finger.

Naomi spun on her stool and turned to me, putting on an innocent grin. “My, we’re making friends fast, aren’t we?”

Slowly I shook my head at her, bewildered. “You are unbelievable.”

“Didn’t I tell you.” She gave me a wink and we clinked together our beer bottles again.

As we were enjoying the celebratory drinks, Naomi’s moby went. It was relentless for about fifteen minutes as we chatted and laughed. Just as she was finishing off her second beer, the phone went again. She went quiet when she saw who it was.

“It’s the dickhead’s sister.” There you go.

“Don’t answer it,” I told her.

“They’ll just keep ringing if I don’t.”

“Let them. Switch it off.”

Naomi let it ring off, and then it started ringing again. After the third try, she huffed and answered, getting up and walking over to the nearby corner.

“I don’t want to fucking talk to you, okay?” I heard her saying in an annoyed manner. “Haven’t I made myself clear enough? I don’t want you calling me. It’s a colossal waste of my time . . . God, you even used your sister’s phone just to get through me! How much more pathetic can you be?”

Ferociously Naomi snapped her phone shut and leant against the wall, looking really angry and stary. I had no clue what happened between her and the dickhead but judging from the way she had talked to him on the phone, it was obvious that his nasty whiff was still lingering.

It pained me seeing Naomi this upset and carrying such mysterious baggage. At that moment my instinct was ordering me to rush toward her and just grab the phone. But my brain told me to just let Naomi sort this herself. I was sure she would only be annoyed with me if I start meddling.

“Goddammit.” She finally put her phone in her bag and came back to the table looking really pissed off. I could swear I saw tears in her eyes.

“I seriously need a massive good vibe tequila toast,” she muttered. Then instantly turned to summon the bartender again. “Two tequila shots, please. Real quick.”

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay because obviously you are not, but . . .” I touched her hand. “Look, just ignore this guy. He’s clearly fucked in the head for messing with you. Don’t let him ruin your time here, Naomi.”

The bartender placed two shot glasses filled with the Mexican heavenly liquor and a bowl full of lime wedges in front of us. “That’s 3,420 yen, including the beers.” Naomi opened her wallet. My hand went to the pocket of my sling purse.

“I’ve got it.” Naomi quickly flipped a few bills on the bar.

“Are you sure? I mean, I can—”

Naomi waved me aside. “That’s okay.” She met my eyes and dropped her voice slightly. “You can get me next time.”

You can get me next time. The words chimed sweetly in my head.

“Thanks.” It took all of my self-control to sound casual. There was an infinite array of possibilities in next time.

Naomi lifted her shot glass. “Anyway, here’s to winning against Shinya Gaidai.” She clinked it with mine. “And against all those pervy old coots.”

“Or maybe not,” I muttered as I spotted another man moving toward us with a sly grin on his face.

Two tequila shots and six mingers later—I kid you not, we were like honey to them—and Naomi was giving the latest one a red card. “I’ve got an idea,” the blonde suddenly whispered to me, “Why don’t we sit somewhere a little bit more private?” Without waiting for my response, she quickly grabbed my hand and tugged me off my stool.

Swaying a little, I followed Naomi across the crowded dance floor then up the staircase back to the VIP area and toward a couch in a snug corner near the mini bar. I sat down, almost missing the couch as I sat, and waited for Naomi who left to get another beer at the bar. I had to pass; I was aware that one more beer would be the death of me.

After a short while, Naomi came back with another Corona beer in her hand. “Have you spotted anyone in here that’s your type?” she asked, plopping down on the couch beside me. She was eyeing the balcony area carefully.

I bit my lip, feeling the strong effects the alcohol was having on me. “I, uh, I don’t know. I haven’t been looking.”

Naomi snorted her disbelief. “Get out of here! There are lots of cute chicks around. What about that one?” With a lift of her chin, Naomi gestured toward a petite Japanese girl who was sitting like a nun over at the bar—knees demurely tucked together, hands on her purse in her lap.

I shook my head. “Nope. Too boring.”

“What about the girl over there?” She hitched her thumb toward a girl with short dark spiky hair, tattoos, lots of make-up, and wild piercings. She wore a punk leather jacket and commando boots.

“Too wild.”

“And what about that chick? I swear, she’s checking you out.” I followed the direction where the lip of Naomi’s beer bottle was pointing to.

Over by the wall, a tall girl with pink hair and massive cross-shaped earrings was looking across at me, biting her lip seductively. I quickly looked away.

“Nope. Not my type at all.”

Naomi chuckled at my reaction, then asked, “What’s your type, anyway? I mean, besides being a walking wounded.”

“Well . . . uh . . .” I looked at Naomi tentatively, but realised that she was actually interested to know, “I’ve always been partial to baby blue eyes.”

Naomi squinted as she gazed at me over her beer. “Hm. Just like Elizabeth’s . . .”

“I also like tall girls, I guess.” I gave a shrug.

The blonde nodded. “Like Elizabeth.”

“And I prefer blondes,” I added, hoping that would finally enlighten her that I wasn’t interested in Effy at all.

Naomi’s lips crimped in amusement. “Hmm . . . let’s see . . .” Her eyes scanned the place again, the club was getting wilder. Then her eyes lit up. “I think I’ve found the perfect woman for you.”

With her beer, she pointed toward a tall blonde who was teetering in her super high stilettos, as she was doing a sexy little dance to the music. With her golden hair sticking to her lip gloss, she looked like a mess.

I grimaced and held up a hand. “Please.”

“What? She’s hot,” Naomi said in defence whilst stumbling over her words a bit. “She’s tall, she has blue eyes—I think, she’s blonde—”

“And she looks like a car crash,” I blurted, making Naomi laugh out loud. “Stop it, Naomi. Seriously.”

“Okay. What about Effy? Why isn’t she here? You should ring her.”

I swallowed and looked away. “Can you stop with that, please? Effy’s gorgeous and super cool, but I’m more into . . . the fireworks.”

“Fireworks?” Naomi’s brow furrowed.

“Like . . . I don’t know. Like how you described being in love with calligraphy, I like the subterranean elements . . . The way my heart wildly pounds as soon as I see the person . . . The butterflies doing crazy cartwheels in my stomach . . . That feeling of everything in your world suddenly becomes frozen between one breath and the next and all you can see—”

“Oookay, let’s stop at that.” Naomi snort-chuckled and I noticed her eyes had a glazed look in them. Someone was obviously drunk. “C’mon, let’s practice. Let’s see if you can pick up a chick here. Try hitting on me first and make sure I’ll end up fanning myself.”

“You’re clearly drunk and out of your mind.”

“Just give it a try,” she insisted, giggling.

I thought about it for a second before looking at Naomi with a smile, the alcohol in my system giving me the confidence I needed. “Oh okay. Let’s see . . .”

I cleared my throat before speaking in my husky voice, “Hey, gorgeous,” I ran my fingertips very, very lightly and slowly up and down her arm, “You’re the whole package. I reckon you have to beat people off with a stick.”

I could swear I saw the hairs on Naomi’s arm stand up on their ends. I fought a victorious smirk. “Naw, I’ve got a nasty temper,” she managed to respond.

“I’d take the temper if the baby blue eyes came with it.”

Naomi drew back, giggling. “Okaaay. I think someone’s had a bit too much to drink.”

“And you’re to talk. You’ve been drinking nonstop, hunny.”

“This will certainly clinch my reputation. Alcoholic Aussies, remember?” Naomi raised a brow.

“C’mon, I was just joking. You still not over that?”

“Well, you’re half right about it. I mean, I’m from Melbourne and Melbournians are known for being beer-chuggers. It’s just ‘cos it could get very cold there.”

“See? I was right all along.” I was really pleased that Naomi was starting to open up to me. Or perhaps that was just the alcohol’s doing. “Why deny things that are in your nature?”

Naomi just smirked and rolled her eyes. “What about your place? Bristol, right?”

“Yep,” I said, glad that Naomi had really paid attention to me. “Well, erm, Bristol is the kind of place where . . . Fuck, I’m not even sure.” I paused, and Naomi giggled some more. “I remember going to the golf course with my dad every Sunday morning, and even though my dad was just about the worst golfer who ever puttered, I found it thrilling. Now I understand that for my dad, at least, it was all about spending time with me, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. I like thinking that I can give my kids the same kinds of experiences someday.”

“Yeah, he sounds like a really cool dad.”

“He is.” I smiled thoughtfully, thinking about how lucky I truly was. Then I turned to the blonde. “What about your dad? What does he do?”

“Fail me,” she answered sarcastically.

I let out a laugh. “No, seriously, Naomi.”

She finished off her Corona. “Just don’t ask too many questions and we’ll be all right.”

“And there goes the friendly-neighbourhood Naomi Campbell, my fun mate. Way to spoil the moment.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m shit at this—you can’t really make anyone feel good when you’re feeling terrible yourself, can you?”

“Okay,” I said, purposely shifting the topic. I didn’t want to dwell on the negative stuff; it would just ruin our time together. “Another question. Brothers and sisters?”

Naomi shook her head. “None. And I’m not complaining. Watch out, Emily, because you’re going to be answering my questions next,” she added lightly. I could tell that the alcohol had fully kicked in with Naomi now because she was swaying lightly and was uncharacteristically friendlier and more open.

I laughed. “Fair enough. But humour me through a few more questions, will you? It’s not every day that I get shipwrecked at the club with some tall, blond, mysterious stranger.”

Naomi laughed, too. I took in all of the blonde’s features up close and decided I would never get tired of looking at her. Naomi Campbell was everything I ever wanted and more.

“Fire away,” she said. “The more you know, the less I’m a stranger.”

“Right.” I nodded. “So . . . are you happy here?”

“You make a girl think, Emily Fitch,” Naomi whispered after resting her head on my shoulder.

I smiled and wrapped my arms around her neck pulling the blonde as close as I could, hoping this moment would never end. “And that’s a good thing, right?”

“It sure is. I’m just not sure I have an answer to that question.”

“Well,” I mumbled, running my fingers through Naomi’s hair, “personally I think you make your own sense of belonging.”

“Or not.” The corners of her mouth tugged down. I sensed her body tightening. “I think . . . you have to be at peace with yourself first to feel at home anywhere.”

“And you aren’t there yet,” I said quietly.

Naomi swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I guess . . . not. I think I had this idea that it’s as easy as moving to a new place. But the past kind of follows you, doesn’t it? Or you fucking carry it with you.”

“I understand, Naomi. I really do,” I said. “But it gets easier, I personally promise. As you go along, you learn how to put some of those shit from the past to rest. It gets better. And, well, I hope that doesn’t sound condescending or patronising. I mean, you’re older than me.”

This made her smile. “No, that’s okay. In fact, it’s nice to hear that from you.”

Naomi’s phone suddenly went off again, making her jerk up, shattering our rare, sweet moment. She was white with rage, staring at her phone like it was a twatty boy. It rang and rang and I saw the blonde’s eyes that had tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. She quickly wiped her face. With shaky fingers, she finally switched her phone off. Wow. Liquor makes it really hard for people to control their emotions no matter how tough they are.

“Naomi,” I urged softly, feeling worried, “Just ignore this guy.”

Naomi met my reassuring gaze. “I try not to let him get to me. Really I do,” she said, and the vulnerability in her blue eyes and voice tugged at my heartstrings. “I did exactly what I was aiming for. Pick up and go someplace where I don’t know anyone. Start from the beginning again.”

“Running away never solved anyone’s problems,” I said. “Run and you’re done.”

Naomi was quiet a few moments. “I guess that’s true,” she said finally. “My father is a champion at running away. And it only made things worse.” Her face was a mask of pain again. “But it’s so hard to move on and try to make things better. I mean, what’s the use of moving on if someone won’t fucking let you?” Then clutching at her forehead, she groaned, “God, he’s such a dick.” Again, she’d forced back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes but not before I saw them.

I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Look, I don’t fully understand what’s going on and what happened with this dickhead, but not everyone is like this guy,” I said softly. “I think you should just surround yourself with, you know, positive people who care about you and who will help you grow.”

I could see Naomi’s bitterness begin to thaw out. “You think so?” she asked, a note of interest surfacing in her voice.

“There are lots of special people in the world,” I managed to say, recycling the lines I had told Misaki. “You just have to look for them.”

Naomi cocked an eye at me. “Like you?”

“Well, ‘special’ is my middle name.”

Some of the sparkle went out of Naomi’s eyes. “Huh.” She pulled her hand away from mine and straightened up on the couch. Suddenly she was back to her usual glacial self again. “What makes you think you can help me? You don’t even know me.”

“Then give me a chance.”

“What chance?”

“A chance to really know you and sprinkle positive vibes all over you.”

I looked over the blonde’s features, trying to see if she believed me. She didn’t.

I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out in frustration. I was trying my hardest to be a friend to Naomi, but it required endless patience and understanding. I really wondered if I’d ever make any actual headway with the blonde, or if it would always be two steps forward and three steps back.

“You know, I really wonder why some people choose to be always bitter and lonely. Aren’t you afraid of being by yourself, Naomi?” I found myself telling her out of exasperation.

“Why would I be afraid?”

I raised a shoulder. “Clearly, you’re going through something right now. It’s nice to have someone to lean on, to share your burden with, to—”

“Get to the point, Emily.”

“I mean, if you want to talk, I’m just around, you know. I would love to listen and give you a hug or just hold your hand.”

Naomi hastily gathered up her bag. “I need to go.” She stood up on shaky legs.

I hadn’t realised how drunk I really was until I stood up and seemed to stumble more than Naomi.

The blonde made for the exit. I cut through about four grinding couples on the staircase in rush to follow her out of the club. By the time I reached her taxi, Naomi was sliding into the back seat.

“Hey, slow down. Did I say something wrong again?” I asked the blonde, frustration clear in my tone.

“Nope.”

“Then why the sudden split?”

“I need to do stuff, that’s all.”

“Naomi, quit the bullshit. What’s wrong?”

Naomi told the cab driver her destination, then turned to me, eyes blazing. “Your insinuation that I needed assistance.”

“I insinuated no such thing.”

“You make me feel like Humpty Dumpty falling down a fucking wall and needing to be stuck back together again.”

“Don’t be silly.” I snort-chuckled. “You look nothing like an egg, nor are you surrounded by kinsman.”

Still, Naomi was unsmiling. “Were you hoping for an invitation to come out and be my knight in shining armour, fix me or something? Are you saying that I need someone to help me pick up the pieces of my life or whatever? Is that it? I am no lightweight, Emily. I don’t fucking need anyone. I’m not afraid of being alone.”

“I was making conversation. You’re reading a bunch of crap into an innocent question.” We wrestled over control of the door. “Listen, if we’re talking about fear, let’s talk about mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yes. You scare the hell out of me.” Naomi stopped tugging on the door and looked at me for an explanation. “You’re older than me, wiser than me, cooler than me, taller than me.” I glanced down at the door handle. “Stronger than me, and I’m afraid you’d kick my arse in a foot race.”

She ducked her head and I saw a trace of a smile. I pressed the advantage. “I had fun with you tonight, Naomi. And I don’t want it to end badly. I’m sorry if I said something that upset you. So, are we good?” I held out a hand for a shake, but she only stared at it.

“Good-bye, Emily.”

“Wait a sec.” I added a soft “Please,” which stopped her from reaching for the door again. “Why are you always rushing away from me?”

She glanced at the rearview mirror and saw the look of impatience on the driver’s face. “The taxi driver’s getting annoyed, Ems. Can you let us go?”

“I just want to know we’re good.” I gave her my best sad-puppy-dog smile, but it didn’t earn me even one of her half-smiles. “So are we still friends?” I held out my hand again.

Naomi turned away and stared through the windshield for several ponderous moments. “You’re very engaging, Emily Fitch.”

“And?”

She let out an impatient breath. “Of course, we’re still friends.” She finally shook my hand. “Can I go now?”

I grinned down at her. “Sure. Alright.” Then added softly, “Text me, please. I want to know you got back to the dorm safely.”

I could see she appreciated my concern, but still didn’t break into a smile. “Okay, Emily.”

“Alright. Bye, Naomes.” I backed away and closed the car door.

The taxi drove off and I caught a sight of Naomi glancing over her shoulder at me, with something like a smile on her face at long last.

With my hands slapping at my sides, I couldn’t do anything but smile as well. And the butterflies settled in my stomach. 

“Okay, Ems, out with it.” Halo gave me a little poke on the shoulder.

“Out with what, Halo?” I asked, leaning on my elbow with studied innocence.

“Oh, come on, Emily. You’ve been sitting there, staring into space, for the past half-hour. You’ve barely touched your lunch.”

“Maybe I don’t like what they’re serving,” I replied.

Halo exchanged glances with Panda, across the school cafeteria table. The two girls rolled their eyes in exasperation.

“Look, Emsy, I know boiled peas isn’t your favourite side-dish, but somehow I don’t think that’s it,” Halo said. “And I don’t think it’s a hangover from our epic win against Shinya GaiDai, either. Oh, I’m sure you’ve put on a good show yesterday with all the cheering and spreading the school spirit, but we all know you aren’t baseball’s or Hamada U baseball team’s biggest fan.”

“Yeah, Emsy,” Panda put in, “what gives?”

I threw up my hands. “Listen, have you ever heard of the word privacy?”

“Privacy?” Halo tossed out. “What’s that? Isn’t it that there should be no secrets between friends?”

“We’re your main girls, Emsy,” Panda prodded. “You can trust us with anything.”

“And anyway,” Halo added, “you know we’re going to find out sooner or later. So you might as well tell us right now.”

I pushed the food around on my plate with my chopsticks. “Well . . . I do need to talk to someone about it,” I hedged.

Halo and Panda leant forward, ready to devour my every word. 

“But you’ve got to promise not to tell a soul, okay? I don’t want drama. Especially not with this girl.”

“What girl?” Halo’s brown eyes lit up in anticipation of a ripe piece of gossip.

“It’s nothing really big. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it,” I said. “But it’s Naomi.”

“The Blondie of Oz?” Halo asked with intrigue. “What happened?”

“The Blondie of Oz,” I said, “has been really weird to me ever since.”

Panda’s mouth formed an O as she went, “Oooooh.”

“Weird, like how?” asked Halo.

“I don’t get her sometimes. Like I don’t know what’s her deal. There are times when she gives me nothing but cold shoulder. And then sometimes she could be really friendly. I can’t help but think that she’s probably secretly homophobic.”

“Hm . . .” Halo thought about it, but shook her head. “I don’t think so. But . . . did you ever feel like she was being hostile because she’s disgusted with you?”

“I don’t get that vibe, to be honest,” I answered. “I mean, she could be really nice to talk to sometimes and she never actually gave off that impression that she hates me for being gay.”

“There goes your answer,” Halo said.

“Is she like this to the rest of you, though?” I asked my friends who seem to be deep in thought.

“Hmm . . . I can’t really tell.” Halo twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I mean, Naomi’s well-known for her icy soul or her warfreakiness but I never really felt like it was odd or something.”

“Yeah,” Panda agreed. “For me, it’s just the normal Naomi Campbell.”

I looked down, absently poking a green pea with a chopstick, and mumbled, “Yeah . . . maybe it’s just me.” 

“Maybe she’s only playing it for you,” Halo said, a teasing grin on her face. “Maybe she feels this weird sexual tension between you two. And this is her way of dealing with it.”

I let out a snort. “Those are inappropriate conjectures, Halo.”

Halo smirked. “Inappropriate yet highly possible.”

“Maybe I’m just making an issue out of nothing.” I gave a shrug. “I don’t know. It just bothers me. It’s making my head spin. She’s making my head spin.”

Panda had that teasing look on. “Oooh, Naomi’s the only one on your mind, eh?”

I dropped my chopsticks onto my plate. “Nope. I’ve got bigger problems on my mind right now.”

Halo’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”

“Like you two. I’ve got to get rid of you two.”

Stifling laughter, I jumped up from my chair, grabbed my tray, and rushed over to the tray disposal section at the other side of the cafeteria.

“You can’t run away from the truth, Emily Fitch!” I heard Halo dramatically call after me and that was when I let laughter take over me.

It was the Los Maravillosos Football Club induction party and the senior members decided to throw a little feast post-training to welcome the new members of the football circle. We all had just finished taking a refreshing shower after that muddy football skirmish and the program had officially begun. I took a paper plate and loaded it up with some deep-fried chicken, sushi rolls, sticks of yakitori, and three miniature blueberry muffins.

I chose a spot on the leftmost bleacher bench, away from Cook and the lads, and prepared to enjoy a little solitary gluttony. It was nice to be off on my own again. Nobody to impress. If I got blueberries stuck in my teeth, so what?

“Now that’s what I call food,” a familiar sweet voice sounded.

I looked up and saw Misaki, who was looking irresistibly cute and sexy in a green hoodie and a pair of white running shorts, hovering a couple of feet away with a plate piled even higher than mine. “Can I sit with you?” she asked me, ever-polite.

“Sure,” I said eagerly and instantly smelled her sweet scent—a mixture of shampoo and perfume. Misaki Ueno was perhaps the only person I could cope with in this current state that I was in. She daintily settled down beside me and pulled the metal tab off the top of her Coca-Cola can.

I watched curiously as Misaki dug into her purple duffel bag and began unpacking one paper bag after another. “I brought backup food. One katsu-sando,” she said, tapping one paper container on its lid. “Homemade spicy chicken wings.” She pointed to the other. “And bacon potato pie. Feel free to grab anything,” she offered, taking out a pair of chopsticks.

“I’m sure you can afford to eat all of that,” I told her, still in owe of this girl’s incredible appetite and metabolism.

The Japanese girl wrinkled her brows as she lifted the bacon potato pie to her mouth. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Didn’t she know that most of the girls on this team would trade bodies with her in a second? Faces, too.

“Just try a chicken wing, at least,” she offered again. “It’s a special recipe of mine. My niece loves it.”

“Well, to be honest, those wings look irresistible,” I admitted shyly, and Misaki instantly put a spicy chicken wing onto my plate.

Removing a petty portion of chicken from my wing with my teeth, I steadily chewed on its scorching spice and heavenly juiciness. “Oh, jeez,” I mumbled, tearing another bite off. “This is actually divine, Misaki. Like, really, really delicious.”

Misaki smiled at this. “Arigatou (Thanks). Glad you liked it. Here, have another one.” She offered her container again.

“Thanks.” I smiled gratefully at my friend and happily took another chicken wing.

After some moments of eating quietly, I watched Misaki’s head bob on her shoulders as if she were listening to some kind of J-Pop music on invisible headphones whilst she ate. She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

                                                          

I felt more relaxed than I’d been in a long time. Misaki didn’t seem to expect me to make any conversation. She seemed perfectly content to eat and listen to her imaginary music. There weren’t too many people I could sit with in comfortable silence and not feel like I was being boring.

After a while, I sneaked a look at my pretty teammate. She was watching me. She flashed me a tentative smile. My face grew warm, and I looked away.

“Having any luck with the chopsticks?” Misaki suddenly spoke, watching me as I fumbled with my chopsticks.

I gave a sheepish smile and set down the chopsticks. “Yes—bad luck mostly.”

“Having any luck with the girl?” she asked with a smirk.

I blushed even more and repeated, “Yes—bad luck mostly.”

“C’mon. Tell me all about it, Emily-chan,” Misaki said, turning on the bench to face me completely.

“I’m just . . . worried about her.” I took a pensive sip of water off my Nalgene bottle. “One day she’s fine—nice to everyone around the dorm, laughing and being sweet to me, more together than I’ve seen her before, even though I know something’s bothering her inside. Then she just seems to explode, almost for no reason at all.”

“Sounds like someone I’d love to meet.” Misaki grinned.

“Trust me, your shining sweetness won’t blind her,” I said, and the Japanese girl laughed.

“No, but seriously, I want to meet this girl,” said Misaki.

“Maybe not anytime soon,” I told her. “Right now, dealing with her is like diffusing a bomb. One wrong move could spell disaster. You were actually lucky last week that you didn’t get to cross paths with her. She was at the bleachers, watching with a few other friends, but they left before the skirmish ended.”

Misaki took a sip of Coke. “Hm. She’s probably only under so much stress right now that’s why she’s acting that way.”

“Yeah, well, there’s this ex-best friend of hers and this mystery bloke who keep on pestering her . . . She doesn’t really talk about it much, but you can tell it’s tearing her apart. And she takes out all her tension and frustration and bitterness on other people.” I shook my head sadly, contemplatively. “But I still think she’s really a good person and a softie underneath the bitchy, cold exterior.”

“Well, like I told you last time, just give her time,” Misaki softly advised, “time and patience.”

“I’ve got plenty of both of those,” I reflected a little sadly. “I think.”

Someone tugged playfully on a hank of my hair. “I think you ladies can go sit down there with the rest of your teammates without risking your status as scandalous and brooding outsiders.”

I laughed despite of myself. “Halo! What are you doing here?”

Halo looked around her. “This is Hamada University, right? Last time I checked I’m enrolled here.” Misaki and I laughed at her theatrical response.

“I’m just surprised to see you here,” I told the bubbly Canadian girl. “I mean, you’ve got a bajillion school clubs.”

“You know me. I’m always where the party’s at.” Halo winked, then she looked at Misaki, her eyes dancing with intrigue.

“This is Misaki, by the way,” I introduced the Japanese girl to my perky friend. I pointed a finger at the bright yellow Hello! My name is . . . UENO MISAKI name tag sticker attached on Misaki’s sweater. “As you can obviously see.”

Halo grinned. “Oh, I know her. The Pretty Girl,” she giddily blurted and I instantly threw her a subtle glare to which the Canadian girl responded with a sheepish Oops face. Misaki’s light brown eyes twinkled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“I’m Heaven Lopez aka Halo,” the Canadian girl quickly added, grinning at the bemused Japanese girl. “Wow. You are even prettier up close,” she added, gushing.

Misaki blushed, giggling a little, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her face because she just looked so cute. “It’s nice to meet you, Heaven,” she softly returned, smiling her sweet smile. “I love your nails and your name. Is it your real name?”

“Oh, it’s real,” Halo replied, nodding. “I’m the last of eight kids, and I guess my folks were just too tired to think up a proper name by the time I came along.”

Misaki drew back, putting a hand on her chest in astonishment. “Oh my. You have seven brothers and sisters?”

“Yep,” Halo replied proudly. “Most of them are married with kids already. It’s all good. I love being an aunt.”

“Wow,” was all Misaki could say.

“Anyway, you two gorgeous girls should come join us over there.” Halo gestured toward the crowd gathered on the football field, playing some really ridiculous Japanese parlour games.

“I’m fine here,” I told her, popping a bit of muffin into my mouth.

“You don’t seem fine to me,” Halo said, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot impatiently. “Something’s bothering you.”

“I’m okay, Halo,” I insisted in a mumble.

“You know that’s not really going to fly around here, Ems. What is it? Is it still about how conflicted and confused you are by Blondie of Oz? Because that’s not exactly headline news. She obviously has some issues she has to deal with and it’s none of our beeswax.”

“Halo!” Sean called from afar, waving his arms. “The juggling trick competition’s about to start. Will you be so nice to be our guest judge?”

“Okay! Sure! I’ll be right there!” Halo shouted back. Then she turned to us, grinning. “Gotta go, girls. Fun beckons.”

“Blondie of Oz?” Misaki repeated with raised curious brows as soon as Halo left.

“Yep. That’s our codename for the girl—the one I fancy. She’s blonde and from Australia. Ergo the name.”

“Oh.” Misaki nodded her understanding, then asked, “So I’m assuming Halo knows about your deepening fondness for Blondie of Oz?”

“Actually, no.”

“Why haven’t you told her? Isn’t it that she’s one of your closest friends?” Misaki asked, baffled.

“Because I’m sure she’ll make a big deal out of it. She and Panda would just plan crazy things and that might ruin my chances with the girl. Plus, Halo seems like she’s Team Effy all the way.”

Misaki’s brow knitted. “Effy?”

“This other girl—Elizabeth. A HEP student from Florida,” I explained. “There are rumours flying around about a steamy love affair between me and Effy—and they’re absolute rubbish. But this didn’t stop Halo from playing stupid cupid. She’s mental, I’m tellin’ you.”

The Japanese girl was genuinely in awe as she giggled. “Wow. This is turning into a really interesting, complex cross-cultural drama, I’ve to say.”

“Tell me about it.” I snorted a chuckle. “Anyway, it’s just fair. ‘Cos I’ve got competition, as well, vying for Blondie’s affections. There’s her fellow Aussie, JJ, and they seem to have a really deep connection,” I told her grimly. “And I’m so annoyed. I just want to stop feeling jealous every time I see them together.”

Misaki smiled. “It’s okay to feel possessive. It’s totally a normal human emotion.”

“I know. But it sucks. I hate feeling this way. It’s just that Blondie’s so exhausting to crack. You don’t actually know what’s going on in her mind—if she’s into girls or into me or what. It’s frustrating.”

Misaki took another sip of her soda then spoke, “I’ve a question, though. Do you feel like Blondie’s just stringing you along?”

I thought about it for a while then shook my head. “Not really. I think it’s just me being a dog and chasing her all the fucking time.”

“And you’re becoming tired of that?” she asked.

“Well . . .” My lips twisted with uncertainty.

“You know,” Misaki softly spoke, “maybe you should stick around. I think you’ve got an actual chance with her. It’s impossible not to fall in love with you, Emily-chan. You never know.” She gave a shrug. “Maybe eventually she’ll get tired of pushing away what she feels about you.” She touched my arm. A small flutter welled up in my stomach. “And you shouldn’t jump into conclusions. Maybe Blondie and this JJ guy aren’t really a thing.”

“It’s not just JJ . . .” I told her with a sigh. “I’ve a more powerful rival. The mystery bloke who keeps giving her a hard time. It’s an ex of hers, I’m sure. And I hate that she’s still hung up. And I hate it even more that I have to compete with that. And that I have no clue how great the force I’m fighting against with.”

Misaki smiled sadly and shook her head. “There’s no point in competing, Emily-chan. I think it’s just silly,” she said. “When you love someone, just love that person with all you have—unconditionally. Don’t ever think it’s a game or you have to keep score. It’s my philosophy.” Looking into my eyes, she smiled so tenderly. “If I decide to love someone, I will give it my all so I wouldn’t have any regrets. It’s just that simple. So in case it doesn’t work out, it wouldn’t mean I didn’t do enough, it only means we aren’t right for each other. And I just have to learn to accept that.”

I was stunned for a minute. “Wow,” I breathed. “Those are some really potent words . . .”

“It is how love should be, I think.” Misaki smiled.

“Yeah, and I actually kind of agree with you,” I said, deciding that I would have to get used to the idea that I was really friends with this creature of perfection.

“Hello, everyone!” The Los Ma team captain, Jun, spoke into a mini megaphone. “As part of the Los Maravillosos membership, it is in our tradition to hook new members up with senior members of the club. They’ll be your buddies for life. And as the old Japanese adage goes,” Misaki spoke with him, “‘Life and death are light as a feather, but obligation, obligation is heavy as a mountain.’ Don’t worry, your buddies are all morally obliged to try their very best to be nice to you at all times.” Everyone laughed except me, and the team captain started announcing the pairings.

In the Japanese culture, senpai-kouhai refers to the special mentoring relationship between a senior and a junior. A kouhai is expected to respect and obey their senpai, and the senpai in turn must act as their advisor, coach and confidant. In some uni circles, the distinction of roles was much more brutal. I heard that in the baseball team, the kouhai or the junior members are required to perform tons of bloody boring servant-like tasks for the senpai including washing of clothes and cleaning.

Misaki turned to me, grinning a bit. “Hmm . . . I wonder who will be your lucky senpai . . .”

Staring at a mud puddle on the football field, I swallowed audibly. Knowing my luck, I’d be matched with some extra-huge Japanese lad who would either (a) talk about my red hair relentlessly, (b) dare me to do a bicycle kick, or (c) end up carrying me over his shoulder for most of the training sessions.

After some moments, the team captain called my name. “Fitch-san?” I held my breath in anticipation. “Your senpai will be none other than . . . that lovely girl sitting beside you: Ueno-san.”

I heard Cook and the other lads groan. Misaki grinned at me, giggling softly. I grinned right back. Her I could handle.

My brows rose as I asked. “You knew?”

Misaki nodded and giggled some more. “I’m sorry, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

I shook my head at her, stifling laughter. Misaki dug into her bag and happily handed me a yellow shirt with my first name printed on the back in big letters. “Here’s your official jersey, Emily-chan. Welcome to Los Ma Football Club. I’m sorry that you’re going to be stuck with me for the rest of your time here on the team.”

“I don’t see that as a problem. In fact, I’m beyond ecstatic that you were assigned to be my senpai,” I told her, as I hugged the jersey to my chest. “Just my luck.”

“Luck? I had to battle it out with three guys to be your buddy.”

“Battle?”

“A juggling endurance contest,” Misaki explained. “There were three other people who volunteered to be your senpai, but I wanted it so bad, too. So we had to battle it out.”

I drew back, staring at her. “And here I thought Misaki Ueno was not the competitive type.”

Misaki blushed, but her sweet smile didn’t falter. “Only with you. I guess you can now add it to your description. Emily Fitch,” she poked my name tag, “a girl worth fighting for.”

It was my turn to blush. There was something infinitely appealing about this girl, I thought.

The megaphone’s frequency rang out, high-pitched and unpleasant, jerking everyone’s attention back to the team captain. “Again, congratulations to the new members of Los Maravillosos Football Club! Looking forward to having fun playing football with all of you!” Jun announced with a wide grin, and we all cheered and clapped our hands. “See you all at the izakaya tonight! Otsukaresama deshita!”

“Come on, Emily! Emily!” Halo was gesturing wildly from the bottom of the bleachers.

“Why couldn’t she just chill, eh?” I told Misaki, shouldering my towel and commencing a lackadaisical trudge down the steps.

Misaki let out a little laugh, and followed me down the stairs. “It’s actually cute. Halo’s such a fun person. I love her.”

As soon as we were met by Halo at the bottom of the bleachers, I asked her, “So, Halo. How was your first official Los Ma experience?”

“Not bad,” Halo replied with a little grin. “I’m glad no one forced me to wear a name tag—that earns you guys big points.”

Misaki laughed. “I’m glad you joined us, Halo-chan.”

The last wave of my teammates were heading toward the dugout. Halo, Misaki and I stepped in behind them, filling out into the room.

“Any chance of actually joining the team?” Misaki asked Halo.

“Let’s see . . .” Halo rubbed her chin dramatically, then she shook her head. “Nah. Never. I think I’m good with my bajillion clubs that don’t include breaking my nose and having mud for snack and, yep, wearing a stupid name tag. Seriously. Where are we, in kindergarten?” Misaki and I laughed at this.

“Fair enough,” Misaki said. “Tell you what, we may not be able to entice you into joining our club, but how about joining us for a few drinks tonight. The team’s going to an izakaya. Sort of an after-party.”

“No name tags?” Halo asked, her eyes twinkling.

“No name tags.” Misaki smiled.

“Then I’d love to!” Halo said.

Misaki couldn’t help but chuckle. “Great,” she said, grabbing a net bag full of dirty soccer balls off the floor. “I still have to take care of something. You guys go ahead.” She turned and headed toward an empty bench in one corner of the room.

I gave her a wave and let Halo propel me toward the locker area.

“I think Misaki’s really into you,” Halo whispered once Misaki was out of earshot. “Did you see the way she smiled at you?”

“Halo. Please,” I said whilst gathering my stuff from my locker cabinet into my tote bag. “I don’t need to hear more of your nonsensical theories.”

“What? You’re not attracted to her?” She quickly peeled the bright yellow name tag sticker off my singlet and crumpled it into a ball.

I bit down on my lip. “Well . . .”

Halo threw her hands in the air. “Have you lost your eyes? She’s so pretty!”

“Shhh!” I scolded her, glancing cautiously at the Japanese girl. “Lower your voice. She might hear us.”

Halo said in a tiny, almost-whisper voice, “I’m only saying that Misaki’s perfection.”

“I know that. But . . .” I trailed off again.

“But there’s plenty of mermaids in the ocean and you’re just looking for the one with the most fabulous seashell brassiere,” Halo filled in.

I shook my head, stifling laughter. “It’s not like that. It’s just that—”

“Oh. I know now. Because there’s another kind of right for you. My money is on Effy.”

“Will you stop with—” I shut the door of my locker and turned my head to my right but Halo wasn’t there anymore. I looked around. Halo was straying back to the bench where Misaki was seated. The Japanese girl was now busy lining up the muddy soccer balls on the floor.

I shouldered my tote bag and followed my friend. Everyone else was leaving.

“Um. Misaki-chan?” I overheard Halo ask the Japanese girl in bafflement. “What are you doing?”  

“Cleaning the soccer balls,” Misaki answered as if it were the most normal thing to do in life.

I was utterly baffled, as well, as I reached the two. “Why?” I asked.

“What do you mean why?” she asked, smiling as she grabbed one ball and started cleaning it with a towel.

“I mean, what’s the use?” I said, brows together. “I bet you, tomorrow they’ll be all muddy again in no time and people wouldn’t even notice they were clean.”

“Yeah, it’s just mud on the ball, Misaki,” Halo agreed, shaking her head in confusion. “I mean, seriously, what will you get from this? You’re just wasting your time and ruining your fabulous nails. Seriously, Misaki. Get off that bench and leave with us,” she pleaded, “You’re not obligated to do this. No one will even thank you.”

“Uh-hmm,” Misaki murmured, as she went on scrubbing dirt.

“What, you don’t believe us?” Halo asked, raising her brows.

Misaki glanced up at me and smiled. “I do.”

I took a step forward. “Then, why are you still scrubbing?”

Misaki let a cleaned-up ball roll back into the net bag then spoke, “Well, lovelies, I don’t really expect rewards for things that I do. Why can’t I just do this because I want to?”

Halo and I looked at each other, tongue-tied. Then I turned back to the Japanese girl. “Fair enough. Well, do you need a hand? As your kouhai, I believe I’m honour-bound to make things easier for you, Senpai.”

“No, it’s fine, Emily-chan,” Misaki said, smiling gratefully. “Thank you for offering help, but I can manage. And never, ever call me Senpai again, please?”

“Why not? You’re my senpai. I’m like,” I said, “your slave.”

“Exactly. It sounds weird—like there’s a gap. I don’t like how it sounds. Plus, I want you to think we’re equals. All the time.”

“Oh okay,” I mumbled, then insisted, “I’m serious, though. I want to help. I mean, I can—”

Misaki politely held up a hand, smiling. “Don’t worry about it, Emily-chan. You guys go ahead. I still have to clean up a few more things. I’ll catch you later.”

“Oh okay.” I gave a shrug of defeat. “Well I guess we’ll just see you later at the pub, Misaki.”

Halo hooked an arm through mine, tugged and steered me toward the exit. “God bless that chick, seriously,” she blurted as soon as we reached the door. “Misaki Ueno is perfection, isn’t she? God, I feel so rotten being around her.”

I looked behind me over my shoulder and saw Misaki still scrubbing. When she saw me look, she smiled sweetly and waved goodbye. I smiled to myself for some reason.

Misaki Ueno was perfection, but obviously I didn’t care, did I? 

Being single isn’t so bad. In fact, there are lots of good things to be said for it, and every time a relationship or date turns sour I cheer myself up by enumerating the many advantages of being on one’s own.

TEN GOOD THINGS ABOUT BEING SINGLE:

1.      You can spend a lot of quality time with yourself.

2.      You can eat ice cream in bed.

3.      You do not have to look and smell alluring twenty-four hours a day.

4.      You can put on weight if you wish. (In other words, you can eat all the 

         cupcakes and ice cream you want!)

5.      You can watch Glee without being sneered at for your adolescent taste and 

         hopeless romanticism.

6.      You can watch The Bachelor, ditto.

7.      You can sleep diagonally.

8.      You can converse uninhibitedly with your books or computer or any electronic gadgets.

9.      You can

Someone snatched the notebook out of my hand, which I had been scribbling on.

“Emily Fitch, you’re still making lists!” A familiar voice boomed in the floor kitchen. I lifted my droopy eyes toward the snatcher.

It was Naomi, looking so attractive in her trademark sleepwear—a killer combination of white tank top and cotton shorts, and that messy ponytail.

I watched the blonde’s mouth as she did that sexy lip-biting habit of hers and her eyes as they scanned the paper. Then I saw her eyes suddenly widen.

“Eat ice cream in bed?” Naomi read rather incredulously. “Really, Emily? This is a major issue for you?”

“Well, erm,” I mumbled as I took a gulp of water from my glass, “some people hate that. They don’t like getting the bed wet and dirty, you know.”

“I don’t mind eating ice cream in bed,” said Naomi. “I don’t mind getting the bed wet and dirty.”

“Let’s be together, then,” I blurted out, putting down my pen on the table.

“Shut up,” Naomi muttered, a soft blush filling her cheeks, and I laughed. “You’re fucking drunk,” she added, her gaze not leaving the notebook page while an amused smile curved her pretty lips as she read on.

“I am not,” I said indignantly, sitting straight on the chair.

After she had finished scanning the list, Naomi returned the notebook to me then cocked a questioning brow. “How’d you and Halo manage to get your arses back to the dorm, anyway?”

I clutched a hand to my head, feeling a bit faint. “Well . . .”

Before I could process my thoughts, a loud bang of someone knocking over a trash can gave both of us a jolt. The noise came from outside—on the driveway in front of the building, to be exact. We heard a loud “Focking hell” and groaning from Cook followed by a chorus of hysterical laughter—perceptibly from Sean, Freddie, and four of our Los Ma teammates—Chiho, Emi, Akihiro, and Misaki. Naomi went over to the kitchen window and poked her head out to take a peek.

“There’s them,” I finally answered with a soft titter as my teammates hilariously continued to make noise.

“Who’s that girl from your team?” Naomi asked, squinting at something out there. A sound of the gate being closed was heard, indicating that my friends had already left.

“Uhm. There’s a lot of girls on my team, Naomi. Which one?”

“The tall one with the long, black hair,” Naomi answered, moving back to the table. “The pretty one—I mean, at least, she looks pretty from afar.”

“Oh. You mean, Misaki?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Naomi gave a nonchalant shrug.

“What about her?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Another shrug. “Just that you should warn her. I saw Cook and Sean staring at her like ravenous predators.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m sure Misaki can handle them; she’s a smart girl,” I told her with a reassuring wink. Then I went back to our previous topic. “But I’m serious, Naomi. I think we’re highly compatible.” I gave her a lopsided grin.

Naomi gave me a stare. “Emily . . .”

I laughed. “I was just joking! You’re so cranky all the time, Naomi.”

Naomi sat down across me at the table, ripped up the page from my notebook, crumpled it into a ball, and then threw it into a nearby trash bin.

My eyes bulged in alarm. “Hey! Why did you do that?”

“To help you, Emily,” she said purposefully. “To release you from the tyranny of compulsive enumeration.”

“Look, could you please just give me the top ten points on How to Tame Naomi Campbell,” I said, picking up my pen again. “I’d like to write them down so that I get it straight.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny, Fitch.”

I let out a loud laugh. “See? You’re—” I hiccuped, “you’re being cranky again—!”

“Shhh! Don’t be so loud. People are already sleeping,” Naomi scolded in a whisper. “You sound stupidly drunk, by the way.”

“Drunken words, sober thoughts,” I slurred, leaning over the table to gaze closely into her bright blue eyes and I noticed the blonde had stiffened. God, I love your eyes.

Naomi leant back, shifted in her seat, and seemed to feel uncomfortable as I stared at her bright red cheeks. “You should drink some more water to clear your head,” she suggested, looking pointedly at my glass of water. “Where’ve you guys been to, anyway? Halo’s in the loo, throwing up nonstop.”

I finished off my water and drowsily answered, “A nomikai. We had a drinking party in an izakaya downtown. Part of the club induction. And they made us try all sorts of weird sake.” Suddenly I was overwhelmed by dizziness. I clutched at my forehead again. “Oh Lord, I feel sick.”

Naomi leant forward and grabbed me by both shoulders, her expression serious. “No throwing up in here or in the azalea bushes, Emily. Yoshida-san will fucking lose it.”

I nodded like a puppet. “No throwing up. I want my bed.”

“Okay. Let’s get you up, Little Miss Lightweight.” Naomi got up and walked over to me. Putting her arm around me, she helped me stand up and we moved toward the kitchen doorway. “Do you need to go to the bathroom or something?”

“No, I just want my bed.” I struggled to zip the outer side pocket of my tote bag open.

“Okay.” Naomi wrapped her arm around me again, but cautiously, and guided me up the rest of the walk to my door. “We’re almost there, Em.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, fishing blindly for my room key inside the pocket of my bag.

At the door, I missed the keyhole twice before Naomi curled her hand over mine and slowly guided the key in.

“I can do it,” I slurred, struggling to catch my balance a bit, and Naomi pulled her hand away. The blonde moved to lean against my door, crossing her arms over her chest as she impatiently watched me. I stared at the key in the lock, betrayed. It wouldn’t open.

“Jesus. You’re hopelessly drunk,” Naomi said, shaking her head in disappointment. “That’s not even the right key, Emily. Come here,” she gently took my arm, “let me—”  

The wooziness in my head caused me to stumble slightly, making me lean in closer to Naomi, who was still trying to finish her sentence. My weight pressed the startled blonde into the still closed door. I was practically hugging her and trapping her between me and the door. But I was powerless; I needed Naomi to keep me in a vertical position.

I grinned up at Naomi and mumbled a weak “I’m sorry”. The blonde clearly felt a little uneasy, but she smiled at me anyway. I broke the eye contact and leant my forehead against the cold surface of the door, right next to the blonde’s head.

“Let me—” Naomi tried again, circling her arms around my waist, “let me take a look in your bag.”

Revelling in the warmth of Naomi and the feel of just being that close to her, I closed my eyes for a second and leant my face closer to the taller woman’s head. My lips involuntarily brushed against Naomi’s neck, and I delighted in the warm, tickly feeling of the blonde’s soft skin. I breathed against her neck as I took in the smell of her hair.

“Oh fuck, you smell so nice.”

I let out a husky giggle and hugged Naomi tighter as I cursed myself inwardly for the words that escaped my mouth. I didn’t mean to say that. What I did mean to say was something like ‘I’m so drunk and you shouldn’t be so nice to me because I’m your friend and your sleepwear is kinda giving me a female boner’, but those words seemed to have disappeared from my vocabulary temporarily.

I could feel Naomi somewhat tremble. She whispered, barely audible, “Em?”

“Hm?” I mumbled into Naomi’s sweet-smelling hair.

“Hold still.” She fumbled blindly behind me in search of a key in the other pockets of my bag. After a few moments, Naomi held up the right room key. “Got it.”

I managed to steady myself on my feet again and let out a sigh, immediately missing Naomi’s warmth. I leant back, slowly sliding my fingers down Naomi’s sides until my arms hang loosely by my own sides. I focused on keeping my tired eyelids from shutting and felt more drunk than a few minutes ago. I looked at Naomi but had to blink several times to make out her face properly. With a frown, I thought, ‘Fuck, I’m really drunk.’

I noticed discontent in the piercing blue eyes of the blonde. For a second I wondered whether I was being too clingy and somehow annoying. But alcohol was clouding my mind and I brushed that thought away again. We are friends and hugging is stuff that friends do, right? It shouldn’t be awkward, yea?

But Naomi still didn’t look happy; she looked concerned and knitted her brow as if her brain were working really hard on something.

When I parted my lips to speak, Naomi suddenly looked nervous. Why was she nervous? Was I making her nervous?

“Naomi—” I started and then cracked into a smile.

“What, Ranga?” Her brows rose.

“Naomi, you have two heads.” I giggled awkwardly.

Naomi’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion until she understood that I went cross eyed momentarily because of the booze. “Well, I hope you like my face, then, because now it’ll be twice as hard to keep your eyes off of it,” she mocked with her trademark smirk.

Before I could respond, Naomi turned to the door again, aiming for the keyhole.

I felt myself getting lost in my thoughts, looking at the smooth skin of Naomi’s neck, not far away from my own face, and thought about whether or not it would be inappropriate to run my tongue over the soft skin—wait, what?

Thank God, my dirty thoughts were interrupted by Naomi muttering, “Finally,” and the door swayed open.

Naomi automatically clasped a stabilising arm around me and guided me toward my bed.

“Why aren’t we friends friends, Naomi?” I asked, lazily opening one eye, after settling on the bed. “We should be friends friends.”

“What the hell are you talking about? We are friends.” Naomi sat on the edge of my bed, grabbed a remote control from my bedside table and turned the heater on.

I shook my head as I kicked off my flats. “No. Not like—”

Naomi leant over me, smirking. “You’re insanely drunk, Emily,” she said, as she pulled the comforter over me, tucking it around me gently. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, it’s like . . . Sometimes you hate me and then sometimes you like me. I just don’t understand. And . . .” I trailed off as I felt my stomach flip when I looked into her blue eyes. “And—” I began again, lost in those bright, glistening pools. Chuckling, I kept the eye contact and reached up to awkwardly cup Naomi’s face. “Now you’re just so nice to me.”

Naomi sighed, looking frustrated, and said for the nth time that night. “You’re drunk, Emily.”

“Mhm, that doesn’t make you any less nice,” I said huskily.

Brushing hair out of my eyes, Naomi asked with concern. “You gonna be all right? If you need anything, you know my room number.”

For a moment, I just looked at Naomi, at a loss for words, and inside my head, a little voice was yelling ‘don’t be stupid, Emily, she’s your friend’, but the buzzing noise of all the other thoughts on my mind was way too loud right now. As the silence started to grow heavier, I made up my mind and leant forward. Naomi’s face flushed immediately as I placed a long kiss on her cheek. “I know I’m really pissed and I don’t know how much of tonight I’m going to remember,” I mumbled dozily against the warm skin under my lips, “But I just want to make sure I say thank you for being my Knight in Shining Armour and I really . . . really . . .”

My mind wandered and I blinked, because my vision was blurred and everything in my head felt equally blurred.

And Naomi’s bemused face was the last thing I could remember before my head plopped back down onto my pillow.

Word Count: 23,450