It’s Friday, which means another sneak peek into one of my books! This week I’m sharing one of my 99 cent books. That’s right, Just Breathe, is available for just 99 cents! Still one of my favorites – a sweet, simple story about best friends who… well, you’ll see…
~Kenji~
He was playing Madden the first time he met her.
Years later, he would wonder how things might have been different had he been doing something more profound that night. He would always conclude, though, that things had turned out just right anyway. So, Madden? It was all good.
But first things first.
College was awesome. Better than Kenji had anticipated. And classes hadn’t even started yet.
The dorm was old and smelled funny, and it seemed the central air had only been turned on two hours before he arrived, because it was as scorching hot inside as it was outside. But Kenji didn’t care because the first day he arrived, just two suitcases in hand, a backpack over his shoulder, and a note in hand to pick up the already arrived parcel his parents had mailed from their APO in Japan, Landon was already there with big plans for big fun.
They hadn’t known one another beforehand. It had been luck of the draw, a lottery assignment, that made them roommates. But it had been an easy friendship from the first moment.
“Hey,” Kenji said, grinning as soon as he walked in. “What up?”
Landon stood up from the box he’d been unpacking, gave his new roommate a once-over, and grinned as well. Kenji assessed him quickly. He was a big dude. Athletic, likely, but the kind of athletic that turned into a soft mid-section and baldness around thirty, likely around the same time he’d be sitting in a recliner, drinking a beer, and talking about the glory days of high school. For now, though, he was just the kind of guy everyone would want to know, to be seen with, to have saying their name.
He was that kind. Kenji could tell from the first moment.
“Not much,” Landon responded. “I’m Landon. Landon Peterson.” He held out his hand. So American.
Kenji stuck his hand out as well. “Kenji Fisher.”
“Kenji?” Landon asked. “Dude. You don’t sound… Chinese.”
“That’s because I’m not Chinese,” Kenji grinned, already well prepared for this. There had been a time back during a PCS to the States that Kenji had considered going by Kenny, but it certainly wasn’t worth hurting his mother’s feelings… or generations and generations of their ancestors, as his twin sister, Kimmie, had pointed out to him, highly annoyed. Without the Kenji, though, most people couldn’t exactly pinpoint whathe was. He had his mother’s dark hair, dark eyes, and every last bit of her beauty. Paired up with his father’s trim, muscular build, winning smile, and skin that tanned after ten minutes in the sunshine, he had an exotic quality about him that no one could figure out until they saw him with both of his parents. Or until they saw him with Kimmie, who favored their mother entirely with her fair skin and diminutive stature but who was as tough as their father, who had only recently retired from the Marine Corps.
The other three Fishers were far away now, though, so Kenji was left on his own for the first time ever, looking like he had walked straight off the beach, where he spent all of his life surfing.
Which he had. Except his beach was in Japan.
He’d keep this to himself for now.
Landon grinned. “Cool. Where you from?”
Kenji nearly said “Okinawa,” then stopped himself. No need to reinforce the foreign perceptions. “Here and there,” he said, which was true enough. “Military kid. Marine Corps. How about you? You from here?”
Here was Houston. Great, big, beautiful Houston. Blissfully far away from home but close enough to the extended family. His dad’s folks were in Texas, along with two aunts, their husbands, and all their children. Most of them were up in Fort Worth, but a few of them were down in Houston. Literally close enough that Kenji could see them every week if he wanted to, for the first time in his life.
But that hadn’t been his reason for coming all this way. The reason had been the giant check the public university had written and plopped right into his savings account, all for the pleasure of having him come, attend classes, earn a degree, and boost their chances of having a Nobel prize winning chemical engineer listed among their distinguished alumni one day in the near future.
Yeah. Whip smart Asian kid pursuing a career in science. Cliché. But that was the only thing about Kenji Fisher that was a cliché.
Landon nodded. “Yeah. I’m from Pasadena. Just down the road a little.” He grinned. “I’m on the football team. Go, Coogs.”
Obviously. Well, that explained the huge muscles.
“Awesome. Good team this year?”
“The best,” Landon replied confidently. “You play in high school?”
Nope, they hadn’t had American football at his high school. His mother had insisted that he and his sister attend the Japanese school and not the DOD high school that all the other military kids attended. He’d mourned the loss of a normal, American high school experience for a while, but the quality of the education in the Japanese school spoke for itself. And he felt confident in either culture as a result.
Kenji shook his head. “No, baseball is my sport.”
“Awesome.”
“Yeah.”
They watched one another for another minute, assessing all of this information and one another, as people are prone to do after meeting. Unlike girls, though, who would have needed more time, more bonding, and more words (many, many more words) to reach any kind of consensus, it only took these few moments for Landon and Kenji to conclude that this would be just fine. And so they moved right on.
Being a guy is easy.
“I talked to the guys in the next room,” Landon said, going back to his box as Kenji opened up his first suitcase. “Thought that since we were sharing a suite, we might consider making one room a… well, a social room.” He raised his eyebrows at this.
Kenji did likewise. “Social room.” He could guess what this meant. And while his faith cautioned him to tread carefully when it came to college parties, college girls, and college fun, he was confident that he could still be a light for Christ, even still, even with potential distractions. Life was about more than temporary, fleeting desires and fancies. Kenji had never had a problem knowing and believing this entirely. So, he had no qualms about this part of college.
Sure enough, Landon confirmed the intent of his plans.
“Already met a whole bunch of girls while I was filling out all the forms to get my keys. Told them we’d be having a party every night this week.”
“Cool,” Kenji responded. “So… this room, four guys sleeping in here, right?”
“Yeah,” Landon nodded. “If you’re cool with it.”
“Yeah.”
“And if we can figure out how to fit two more of these crappy dorm beds in here.”
Kenji looked over the bed frames and the dimensions of the room, his engineering mind already clicking through the possibilities. “We can stack them,” he said, very simply.
“Stack them?”
“Yeah,” Kenji nodded. “I can build some structure supports, easy. Build up the sides of the frames so that they’ll stack. It’ll take up half the floor space, literally.”
Landon followed his eyes, envisioning it with him. “That’ll work.” He smiled at Kenji. “And I know a few things about hammers, nails, drills –”
“Then, we’ve got it covered,” Kenji concluded.
They’d started the project that weekend, finished it up in record time with Blake and Corey, the guys next door, doing their part as well. And with that task behind them, they were able to put their creative talents into designing the social room… and by designing, that meant that they were able to bring the sofas from Landon’s parents’ basement, pool their money together for a big screen TV, and hook up the Playstation and a giant stereo system.
The parties began in earnest before they could even get it all done, honestly. Guys who wanted to fit in with Landon and his friends, girls who wanted Landon… and girls who gave Kenji a glance.
That was surprising.
Most of the Japanese girls back home hadn’t wanted much to do with him at all, given the fact that he was an American and into that culture enough that they found him odd. And the American girls? Were quickly scared away by Kimmie, who could tolerate none of their shallowness. He’d sworn to her more than once that not all of them were like the few girls she’d been teased by while they’d been stationed in the States, but Kimmie had never forgotten or forgiven some of the mean words said. She was petite, thin, pretty, and exotic, which inspired no small amount of jealousy, the brunt of which had made her even more cool and standoffish with Americans in general. (And it made her meaner than a snake, quite frankly.)
Without Kimmie here to run interference, he caught more than one set of eyes turning his way in the social room during those early parties. But with Landon there? They didn’t look Kenji’s way for very long.
And sometimes? They barely saw him at all. Just like with Tara when they met her on the third night of partying in the social room.
All four roommates were plugged into Madden. So plugged in, in fact, that they were oblivious for the majority of the night to the girls who came through the room. Most of the ladies feigned an interest in the game, pretended that they loved football, and when that didn’t pull Landon away from the TV, they fell into conversations with one another, lounging on the other couch.
Tara wasn’t much different. She was like most… except after getting no response from the boys after several attempts to get them talking, she walked herself right in front of the TV, forcing them to look up at her.
And all four of them did.
Kenji had never seen anyone with naturally red hair. Tara’s was more orange than red, but it was her own color. It was all curls, all the way down her back, pulled back very simply in a headband, which didn’t keep spirals of it from poking out around her face, where her large, blue eyes studied them all. She was as fair as Kimmie… but she was certainly not as slight. Not fat, necessarily, just curvy. Very curvy.
And very aware of it as she stood with her hand on her hip, her chest pushed forward confidently, surveying the four of them with a measured glare.
Certain that she had their attention, she settled onto the couch, right in the middle, dividing them equally into two parts.
“What’s this?” she said, waving her hand at the screen.
“Football,” Blake said, after clearing his throat awkwardly.
“Madden,” Corey added, finally pulling his eyes away from her.
“Duh. I actually meant why has it put you all in a vegetative state?” Tara rolled her eyes at them, prompting Kenji to smirk. She glanced over at him for a second, then centered all of her attention on Landon. Of course. Landon. “I’m Tara. Tara Blair.”
Landon touched her briefly with his eyes. “Landon Peterson.” Then, he went right back to the game.
Silence for a long moment. Then, “Not much of a talker, are you, Landon?” She sighed. “That’s okay, because I can talk enough for both of us. Are you a freshman?”
“Yeah.”
“Football player, right?” she asked.
“How did you –” He looked down at his training camp shirt briefly. He was fun, but he wasn’t very smart. “Yeah.”
“What are you majoring in?”
“Uh, football.” And that was the truth, Kenji had noted, when he saw how many classes Landon would miss every fall in traveling to and from games and cramming in practice. He hardly even qualified as a fulltime student with his light load of courses.
Tara appraised Landon for a moment, wondering at whether or not to take him seriously… then shrugged. “Not me,” she said, “I’m a chemical engineering major.”
“Hey,” Landon said. “So’s Kenji.”
“What’s a Kenji?” she asked.
Landon jerked his head towards his roommate.
“What up?” Kenji said, his eyes never leaving the video game.
“International student. Japan, right?” she assessed.
Kenji looked over at her curiously. “Not an international student, no. But… yeah. Kenji is a Japanese name.”
“Fascinating,” she breathed, clearly not meaning it. “So, you,” she said to Landon. “You’re going to take me out soon, right?”
Landon glanced over at her again. “What?”
She patted him on the back, smiled, and got up to leave, making certain that every one of her curves rubbed against him as she did so. “It’s my bedtime, gents,” she said. “We’ll talk with you later, Landon.”
And then? She was gone. And before Kenji could even open his mouth to say anything, Landon said, “Huh. I think I like her.”
~Tara~
Today was crappy for several reasons.
The first was that her father had brought Julie – yes, “the woman” – to graduation weekend. It had been three years, but Tara still couldn’t force herself to acknowledge the marriage. How could she when her…. stepmother (ugh) was young enough to be her sister?
The second was that she’d been unable to lose those fifteen pounds she’d been trying to lose since starting college, making it next to impossible to squeeze into the dress she’d bought for graduation, certain she’d be slim enough to wear it. It was a good thing she’d be wearing a graduation robe because the dress was likely to split right in half with the way she’d packed herself into it.
And the third? Was Landon.
Landon. Tara could curse the day when she decided that he was going to be hers. Oh, he’d fallen into line quickly enough after that first meeting. A few dates, a few meet-ups in between classes, and one particularly amazing evening back at the apartment her father paid for so as to keep her occupied and far from home – well, he was hers early on. And she was his. And had been these four years.
But being with someone at eighteen was one thing. Being with someone at twenty-two was another. There were decisions to be made, plans to follows, directions to head… and she was going places.
Landon? Was not.
She’d expected a future from him. She’d expected the world from him. But he had no ambition. He had no plan. He, very literally, didn’t know what he was going to do as soon as the degree was in his hand. (And, to be fair, that degree was only going to be in his hand because Tara had carried him through half his courses. Geez, he was hot, but holy crap, he was DUMB.)
Because she’d had a plan from the day she started college and had the perfect job ready and waiting for her already, she’d confronted Landon, asked him what he had planned, and had gotten the cold shoulder.
He could be so cold. And rude. And downright mean. He wasn’t a sensitive guy. He was a guy. And she understood that. But there were times when he would yell, when the words hurt, and when she couldn’t forgive. Until she did. And then, it would be good again. For a while. Until it started all over again…
And that’s what that morning had been. But she hadn’t forgiven. And he seemed ready to be done. They’d told each other that it was over. Four years. Over.
She could barely see through the tears as she moved gingerly in her really tight dress and walked up the stairs to the familiar apartment, cursing the fact that on top of the size ten dress (as IF!), she’d paired the stupid frock with four inch heels. She’d be half-naked and crippled by the time this crappy day was over.
She found herself in front of his door, where she didn’t bother knocking. She never did. Just like she never bothered knocking on his dorm room door, back when they’d been freshmen together, and –
“Kenji!” she bellowed from the open doorway, her eyes adjusting from the bright sunshine to the subdued darkness of the apartment. Kenji was standing at an ironing board, ironing his graduation robe, when he looked up at her, concerned. Landon would likely just pull his own robe out of the pre-packaged bag and wear it, wrinkles and all. But not meticulous, detailed Kenji, and –
She sucked in a breath when she saw that they weren’t alone. A very pretty Asian girl sat on his couch with her legs tucked underneath her delicately as she read a book. Give that girl a parasol and a koi pond, and she’d be the poster girl for Far East mail order brides, Tara thought, until Little Miss Cherry Blossom appraised her with a tight frown.
Well, hello to you, too.
“Tara,” Kenji said, drawing her attention back to him. “I thought we were meeting up at the stadium?”
She let out her breath, noting that the dress only seemed to grow tighter. Blast every last ounce of those fifteen pounds…
“I need to talk to you,” she said simply, glancing over again at the girl, who met her gaze evenly.
Silence for a moment as they watched one another. Finally, the girl spoke from the couch in a sweet, melodic voice… which contrasted nicely with the angry Japanese words she used.
Okay, so it didn’t contrast nicely at all. Because, clearly, there was nothing nice at all about –
“Kimmie,” Kenji scolded softly, “this is Tara, one of my friends from the engineering school.” He glanced up at Tara and smiled. “And one of my new co-workers.”
Yes, that had been a pleasant surprise to them both. They’d gone to the job fair together, just as they’d gone to nearly every undergraduate class together, doing their lucky, superstitious dance usually reserved for engineering finals, once before her interview, then again before his, both of them in their professional finery.
The finery hadn’t stopped Kenji from doing the water sprinkler portion of the dance with great enthusiasm, and for that, Tara was thankful because doing it exactly right, with fingers crossed and all, made all the difference. They never expected that the same oil company would give them both the best offers they could have hoped for as measly, new college graduates. Now, they had plans to move to New York at the same time, work at the same company, and even pursue graduate studies together, in the spare time that they wouldn’t have as fabulously wealthy engineers.
It was going to be stressful. And crazy.
Still, Tara looked forward to it all because it was sure to include seeing Kenji’s water sprinkler dance more than a few times in the years to come. Complete with hissing for the auditory effect.
A new job. A new city. A new life. Tara was impressed with where she found herself. The Japanese girl was not, apparently.
And when Tara thought of how none of this included Landon, she, too, wondered if it was really all that impressive after all.
Arrogant, Japanese girl who could somehow TELL that this was the crappiest day of Tara’s life and –
“Tara,” Kenji continued on, smiling at how she had missed the name, even as he ironed his robe, “this is Kimmie.”
“Oh,” Tara sighed, wondering at the relief she felt in this explanation, her mind running through all the stories she’d heard about Kenji’s twin sister. “Well, I can see the resemblance.” Actually, she couldn’t see a resemblance at all. Kimmie narrowed her eyes at the lie.
Geez.
Silence for a moment as they all looked at one another.
“You said you needed to talk?” Kenji prompted.
“Yeah.” Tara glanced over at Kimmie. “In private.”
Kimmie frowned at this even further but stood. “I can go to your room, Kenji,” she said. “Or you can take… her,” a dismissive glance towards Tara, “in there, and I can stay out here and finish that for you. You’re doing a pitiful job, by the way.”
Kenji grinned down at the robe. “Pitiful, yes. It’s more women’s work, though, isn’t it, Kimmie?”
“Oh, shut up,” she said, hitting his arm. “Only women’s work because I can do it ten times better than you can.” She met his eyes. “Go on,” she murmured.
“Thanks,” he returned. Then, looking to Tara, “Come on.”
She followed him to his room, exchanging a last glare with his sister before flopping down dramatically on his bed. As soon as he shut the door and sat down next to her, she burst into tears.
How many times had she done this with Kenji? Good, faithful, understanding Kenji?
“What is it now?” he asked softly. “The dress hurt that bad?”
She laughed, in spite of her tears. “Geez, you can tell, can’t you? I can’t breathe!”
He smiled. “It’s a nice dress, but…”
“Should’ve gone with the bigger size, I know,” she sighed. “Yeah, it hurts, but that’s not it. That’s not all of it, at least. I can’t even think straight with it cutting the blood off to my head, though. Do you have a shirt, some shorts I could borrow? Just until I can get back to my own apartment and find a dress that actually fits?”
“Yeah,” he answered, standing and going over to one of his many packed boxes, pulling out an old fraternity shirt and a pair of boxers. “Here, you know where the bathroom is.”
“Thanks,” she said, pulling off her shoes, those stupid shoes, and throwing them on the floor. “And those awful things aren’t helping either, Kenji.”
“They’re pretty, though,” he offered diplomatically.
“Pretty wretched. Just like the dress. Help start me off on the zipper?” she asked, turning her back to him and pulling her hair, which had turned into a frizzy, orange puffball (thank you, Houston), up with her hand.
Only slight hesitation, then she felt Kenji’s fingers brush the nape of her neck gently, tugging at the zipper, which gave way with a pop.
“Great. As if I needed any more confirmation that I’m a fat cow,” she hissed, starting to cry all over again.
“You’re not fat,” Kenji assessed calmly, “and maybe you can take this dress back to the store now, since the zipper clearly malfunctioned before you could even get one good wear out of it.”
“Good,” she sniffed, “because it was expensive. Can you get it the rest of the way, at least?”
“Down to the middle of your back, and I’ll go no further,” he said, releasing her and handing her the clothes.
“Thanks,” she shot over her shoulder as she made her way to his immaculately clean and orderly bathroom. “Kenji?” she asked through the closed door.
“Yeah?”
She bit her lip, dreading the answer. “You heard from Landon today?”
A pause. “No. Talked to him last night. We were planning on going out tonight. One last time, you know.”
She sighed. “But you haven’t spoken today, huh?”
“Nope.”
Finally out of the dress, she studied her reflection for a moment. Curvy… too curvy. Not tiny and petite like her sorority sisters and certainly not as tiny and petite as the angry Japanese girl out in the living room, who was probably eavesdropping while ironing her brother’s clothes.
Oh, well. Not much she could do about the weight today. And the Lord knew she had tried every miracle 24 hour diet out there. She’d graduate a fat girl. No, make that a fat chemical engineer with a fabulous life ahead of her.
And a broken relationship that she’d wasted four of her best years in.
She swallowed back another flood of tears, pulling Kenji’s clothes on, thankful for the comforting scent of his skin and for the way that his shirt and shorts fit just right.
Wonderful, dependable Kenji. Even his clothes were perfect.
She opened the door to find him sitting back on his bed, leaning over his knees, hands clasped together as he bit his lip. How many times had he looked just like this? Even in his dress shirt and pants, the sight of him sitting like this conjured up many, many memories of studying late into the night with him. The two of them had been at the top of their class in the engineering department, both smarter than everyone else, but even some of the classes had been difficult for them. Without each other and all of those nights of challenging study, Tara wasn’t sure she would have stuck it out. She well remembered the night they’d gathered on the quad with their other classmates to burn their Organic Chemistry textbooks, so thankful that first rough semester was over… though she’d suspected that Kenji bought an extra book to burn for appearances, too sentimental to destroy the one he’d really used.
Sure enough, there it was, at the top of a box in the corner of the room, where all of his other things were packed away already.
She smiled at this. So like Kenji.
He looked up at her. “Feels that much better, huh?” he asked, taking her smile to mean something else.
“Yes,” she breathed out. “It feels incredible. Though I’m sure your sister will have something to say about me wearing your underwear out of here.”
He grinned. “She’ll just chalk it up to wild American sorority girls. You’re confirming her suspicions, you know.”
Tara sighed. “That figures.”
“So,” Kenji said, as she sat next to him. “What did you need to talk about?”
“Landon,” she said simply. If there was something good to discuss with Kenji, it was always about their friendship. Kenji Fisher and Tara Blair, friends from the first week of college, friends even now during the last week of college. Everything about them, everything between them, was good. So if she had something good to discuss with Kenji, it was always about… well, about Kenji.
If there was something bad to discuss with Kenji, it was always Landon.
“What did he do?” Kenji asked, having trod this road so often that he knew how to ask the obvious questions just the right way.
“It’s what he didn’t do,” she sighed. “Kenji, he has no plan. No future. Nothing. And he doesn’t even care! And when I try to talk to him about it –”
“He doesn’t respond well,” Kenji finished.
“Yeah!” she shouted. He got it. He really got what the problem was, and –
“Forgive me for saying this, Tara, but I doubt any man would respond well to…. well, to being nagged.”
Well, this hurt. “I don’t nag,” she said.
He gave her a reproachful look. “You boss him around like he’s your child, Tara.”
“I do not!” A pause. Okay, well, maybe a little. “Well, not all the time.” Then, hitting him on the shoulder, “Whose side are you on, Kenji?”
“I better be on your side, or you’ll start nagging me, too, right?” he laughed, grabbing her hands in his before she could hit him again.
She let him hold her hands in place, let him turn his palms up into hers, let him link their fingers. She looked down at their hands and sighed. “I hate that you’re right. Why are you always right?”
“Not always right,” he whispered. “And I don’t want to be right about this. Tara, he… he has to change, has to come up with a plan, because HE wants to. Not because YOU want him to.”
And this was the problem. “He won’t EVER want to –”
“It might just take him more time,” Kenji reasoned, optimism in his voice. Misplaced optimism. “And that’s okay. He has time. He’s got work opportunities with his dad, some options back in Pasadena –”
“And who in their right mind would want to live in smelly Stinkadena?” she whined. She would’ve, and that was the honest truth. She would’ve run to Pasadena with him, content to live in the smelly suburb for the rest of her life if it meant being with Landon…
… but he hadn’t asked her to.
“Well, Pasadena isn’t New York,” Kenji conceded.
“Yeah, not New York,” she sniffed. “I just… I guess I thought he planned on more with me. But… he has no interest or intention of going anywhere with me.”
Kenji nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
He met her eyes, regret in them. Oh, Kenji. He knew more than she did. He knew all the things she refused to hear from Landon, knew them because Landon had told him all about it likely, knew that this heartache was inevitable for her.
She had known it, too. But it hadn’t kept her from hoping for the best.
Stupid, stupid hope. Wrapped up in a stupid, stupid man.
Stupid Tara.
Well, this was the pits. And it made her begin crying in earnest. “How does a man take everything from you, four years of your life, and not imagine a future with you?” she asked Kenji. “Seriously, how do you guys do that?”
He watched her with great sympathy. “I don’t know,” he said softly.
“Well,” she huffed, “YOU don’t do that. You’re a good guy. You’ve never… been like that, in all the time I’ve known you. And I just… geez, Kenji. Why couldn’t I have ended up with someone like you instead of him?”
Kenji said nothing for a moment. “Because you love Landon.”
“I think I loved the idea of Landon,” she finally confessed. “And the idea of him now? Isn’t panning out like I thought it would. What am I going to do?”
She leaned against Kenji’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. For a moment, she just continued to cry, holding onto him as she felt him sigh and pull her tighter.
Silence, as she thought of all the moments wasted, all the heartache of losing the assurance of a future with Landon, and all the uncertainties ahead.
“I’m sorry, Kenji,” she said simply. “It’s not fair to put you in the middle like this.” He’d been there in the middle all these years. But he’d been more, too. Kenji and Tara existed completely apart from Landon, and there were days and moments when the two of them were together, where Landon wasn’t even a thought in either of their minds, honestly.
Happy days, happy moments.
She could hear his voice rumble in his chest as he answered her. “I’m here for you, Tara. You know that.”
She looked up at him, noticing not for the first time that his familiar face was an attractive one. That his eyes held understanding for her, for all of her, like no one else’s did. And that he seemed to hold back what he really wanted to say, all the time, when it came to her and Landon. She had always believed it had been to spare her feelings.
But now, looking at the way he was looking at her, she wondered.
“Why are you so good to me?” she asked softly.
He smiled sadly. “You’re my friend, Tara. I love you.”
Those were words she’d never heard from Landon in all those years. And though she knew in her head that Kenji must certainly mean them in an entirely platonic sense, her heart – her vulnerable, broken heart – heard them differently, especially because they came from the best guy she’d ever known.
And without giving it much thought at all, she reached up, pulled his face to hers and kissed him on the lips. And she didn’t think it at all strange when he opened his mouth beneath hers, deepened what she had started, and pulled her up against him.
For a moment, at least. A long, wonderful moment that felt so right, so dependable, so good –
And then, Kenji backed away, a startled expression on his face.
“Tara…”
She shook her head, trying not to think of the sweetness of the kiss she shouldn’t have taken from him. Not when his face spoke of shock, surprise, and not of all the emotions she hoped might be there.
Wait a minute. Why was she hoping anything? This was Kenji. Good, dependable, faithful Kenji, and –
“Wow,” she murmured. “Um. Vulnerable much? And just full of crazy, apparently, since I… kissed you, and –”
“Tara,” he began again.
“Kenji, I’m sorry,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m just… having a really crappy day. I’m not thinking.”
He said nothing for a moment, then smiled slightly. “It’s okay. I… know you didn’t mean that.”
And wow, she couldn’t sort out what she meant. Then, forcing a smile to her face, she said, “I’m going to… get over it. Not that kiss. I mean… holy crap, Kenji, I’m going to try my best to get over that kiss, and –”
“I understand what you’re trying to say,” he nodded.
Did he? Did SHE even understand what she was trying to say? “I meant that…. I’m going to get over Landon. I just… needed to talk to someone. And you were here.”
“I’m always here,” he practically whispered.
“For the next two days,” she said, in a weak attempt to change the subject. “Then… the drive up to New York. The long, long drive, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered, changing the subject with her. Mercifully. “Well, all of us can’t afford fancy movers to take care of that for us.”
“I sure can’t,” she said, standing to her feet, going for confidence though that kiss had left her questioning every move she made. “Many thanks to my father for paying for it all for me. Though I’ve earned his charity by putting up with that woman this weekend.”
“Ahh, graduation,” Kenji sighed, standing as well. “Good opportunity for us all to be back with family.”
“Yeah,” Tara smiled, so thankful that he was moving on with her. “So, is Little Miss Cherry Blossom out there the only one who came out for you?”
“Shh,” he laughed. “Little Miss Cherry Blossom?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I could have called her a geisha, but I thought that might be insulting to you.”
“On behalf of all Japanese, I thank you. Arigatou gozaimasu.” He bowed slightly.
“That’s trippy every time you do that,” she said. “And I guess your sister would have rather had her title said in Japanese. Geez, how did you share a womb with that sourpuss?”
“Not much choice in the matter,” he said. “And sakura. That’s cherry blossom.”
“Just lovely,” Tara murmured, walking over to his closet and looking at what was left unpacked. “Wearing a suit today, sensei?”
“Thought it would be appropriate,” he said. “Though this one barely fits anymore.”
“You were a skinny stick when you got here,” she said. “Not that you’re fat now, just…” Really hot, she thought, noting the broadness to his shoulders, the muscle he’d added to his build…
“Yeah, well, I’m going to have to go shopping in New York for work clothes,” he said.
“Please let me help,” she pleaded.
“Planned on it.”
She brought out the two remaining ties left in his closet. “Which one are you wearing today?”
He put his hands in his pockets. “Hadn’t decided. Was going to ask Kimmie…. excuse me, Little Miss Sakura, to tell me which one.”
“Allow me that privilege,” she said, bypassing the conservative tie for the one that… she recognized. She smiled over at him. “Hey, I got you this one.”
“As a gag gift, I think,” he nodded, a faint smile on his face. “For your token Asian friend.”
She smiled even further at this. “You’ve never been my token friend, Kenji,” she murmured softly. “You’ve been my best friend.”
And neither of them said anything more as she stood there in his closet, thinking on the truth of this and brushing her fingers over the tie she’d given him long ago.
She ran it between her fingers, again admiring the red and orange colors and the Japanese script artfully detailed along the end. It had been a bit of a gag, but it had looked great on him on those rare occasions he had to wear it in college. She’d always smiled a little to see it on him, to see him.
And he’d smiled to see her smile.
“You’re totally wearing this today,” she said, bringing it over and beginning to put it on him herself, turning him to face the mirror that stood against his wall, leaning her head over his shoulder, as she wrapped her arms around him.
“You know,” she said, “I always wondered what this crazy writing –”
“Kanji,” he said.
“No kidding?” she laughed. “Kanji for Kenji.”
“Har, har, har,” he laughed sarcastically, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “You know, you should know more since you took Japanese as your language requirement.”
“Yeah, the only reason I went with Japanese was because I had my own personal translator to get me through,” she said. “I made an A in that class, Kenji –”
“And retained absolutely none of the language.”
She held two fingers up in front his face, indicating just a little. “Sukoshi.”
“Sukoshi, my butt,” he muttered, as she pulled the knot in his tie tighter, turning to face him now. “Ouch.”
“My bad,” she murmured. “I always wondered what the kanji on here said. Do you know?”
“Yeah,” he said, sighing as she smoothed out his shirt and appraised him.
“And?” she asked, after a long pause.
He said nothing for a moment. Then, softly, “It means love.”
She studied it for a moment herself, then touched it one last time. “Well, it looks great on you.”
And as they watched each other again, she remembered, not for the first time and not for the last time, that she wasn’t completely alone as she started this next part of her life.
Kenji would be there, too.
It was a comfort, even as her heart continued to hurt over all the memories she had to mourn that were entirely wrapped up in Landon. Landon, Landon, Landon…
“Are you going to be okay?” Kenji asked, discerning her thoughts, as always.
“Yeah,” she said. “I will. Thanks, Kenji.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, like she had so many times before. Good, faithful, understanding Kenji…
“See you at the stadium in an hour, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Our last big moment here together.”
“But not our last big moment together, Kenji,” she smiled.
He gave his smile to her in return. “I hope not, Tara.”
And as she made her way out his front door, she closed it behind her, leaned her back against it and thought simply this… breathe, Tara. Just breathe.
Inside, in the packed up remains of his college career, Kenji put his hands behind his head, looked up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes as he thought it as well… breathe, Kenji. Just breathe.
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Jenn Faulk 