Runner's High
Chapter Four, Echoes of Love
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She lounges atop the spare king-sized bed in her sapphire silk chemise, one full glass of sweet sangria in one hand, and her phone in the other.
She's steadily made the second master her own midnight sanctuary, from the girlish firefly lights coiled around the wrought iron headboard, to the cozy vintage lantern chandelier draped with fake pink flowers hanging from vines. Thin, tall and spiraling vases decorated her nightstands, marshmallow delphinium stems arching from their container. The window walls leading out to the eastern balcony were decorated with gauzy champagne curtains, giving her the sense of being a caged bird at bedtime. A soft, knitted throw lined at the foot of the bed, while another draped across the back of a linen chair; both projects she had made herself after years of practice with knitting needles.
The amber-tinged darkness was like furtive squeezes and caresses along her arms because of the comfort it provided beyond his sight and knowledge.
Otsutsuki Hinata was not a complainer.
She was a compromiser. An adapter.
She does not make waves. She smooths them.
She does not rock the boat. She runs a tight ship.
She does not see what she does not have. She knows only what she has and she takes care of it.
But so many of the things she used to have chipped away beyond her reach. Even a master of kintsugi could not repair the precious porcelain face of her marriage. And so over time, she's taken care of whatever she has left.
Replacing what was broken was not her MO. Neither was giving up and leaving. For all her lacking, she believed she still had something to nurture, something still worth appreciating.
Hinata adjusted the private listen volume from her phone, the Live Listen button a familiar distance away from her thumb.
"Why don't you be upfront with her? Tell her all the ways you want to bend her over and make that thickness jiggle."
Hinata took a long sip from her glass, the tart sweetness filling her mouth and the fuzzy warmth spreading across her face.
"Because I'm trying to not get rejected, idiot!"
She slouched further down her ruched satin pillows, causing her chemise to ride up the round expanse of her thighs, the hem gathering at her crotch.
She feels oddly warm down there.
"She married?"
"Probably."
"You ever think you should find that out first?"
"That's not my responsibility."
This is why she no longer cares for young men. As she gets older, they stay dumb and disingenuous.
Her eyes ache.
She thought she had a friend.
Someone who added life and substance to one thing she had for herself before she had to step out of their little world and return to composing the orchestra that was her life.
Every day she runs errands for Toneri, picking up packages and dropping them off at the front desk of his company. She manages their books and puts dinner on the table. She keeps everything spotless, tidy and organized because it reflects the state of their minds. And because Toneri has mild intermittent asthma. She just spent two weeks shopping with Hanabi for her niece's birthday. And now she has Kiba's birthday coming up.
And he wanted a yacht party! Like he wants to roleplay a twenty-year-young yuppie! He's turning thirty-seven!
She smirked goofily, admiring his own age-blindness and wishing she had some for herself.
He really was like the dogs he fostered.
The body ages, but the spirit doesn't.
She's compassionate towards Toneri's phobia, but he could stand to take a page out of Kiba's book from time to time.
She'd like it if they could both enjoy growing old together, like they're supposed to.
She's sausaged inside her shapewear from the moment she steps out of her morning shower.
She heads downstairs and makes breakfast. She has his tablet ready on its riser so he can read the news and check their stocks.
When he arrives from the stairs, he's like the virgin snow, delicate, cold, pristine. He cuts a smart figure in his pressed shirt and slim suit pants.
In another world, perhaps she'd be running her hands up and down the hard expanse of his torso, a smug yet fond smile aimed her way.
The tiniest flicker of attraction dances vaguely in her core before it dies out once more.
"Good morning, Hinata," Toneri takes his seat, eyes immediately glued to his tablet.
"Good morning, Darling."
When she goes running, she forgoes the shapewear. After all, she's not out here to impress anybody.
But then her eyes meet desperate baby blues from across the parking lot, and she remembers.
Her throat tightens as her legs seem unwilling to move her across the parking lot.
She should just let him down.
She already knows.
Why is this so hard?
He's just a child.
She never took him seriously when he made that date comment.
She wishes now that she had.
They run side by side for the first time in a week.
She never agreed to it, but she hasn't been able to use her words all morning.
Something he has no problem with whatsoever.
"You were in a club or two in high school, right? How about sports?"
"Was there another ramen place you wanted to try instead of Amawaji? Because I can understand if it wasn't your favorite thing. I've been trying to understand why we haven't had lunch again since. Hey, it doesn't even have to be ramen! I can eat anything but salad!"
"You have any siblings? I think you already know I'm an only child."
"Hey, Otsutsuki-san-"
She stopped on a dime, her hair swishing as she snapped a glare in his direction.
"Please stop bothering me. You're very cute, Uzumaki-kun, but I'm not interested."
Frantic despair quickly ratched up into panicked indignance as he gesticulated wildly, his red face belying his nonchalance.
"Who-Who-Who said anything about being interested in you!"
She arched an eyebrow at him, her knuckles coming to rest on her hips.
He doubled-down. "I'm not interested in you! Are you kidding me?!"
She stepped closer, tilting her head, knowingly giving him a good view of her neck.
"You promise you're not?"
He failed that test.
His baby blues darkened stormily with desire. "Uh-huh."
She stepped closer again, bending forward at the waist - which, she imagined, was a good angle no matter which way he looked.
"You promise you're not attracted to me?"
His troubled eyes searched hers, and he realized she put him in a trap.
He couldn't speak.
So she stepped closer, until she was nearly on the toes of his shoes. She brushed her excessively large chest against his middle and peered up at him challengingly.
"You promise you don't want to… what was it again… 'bend me over and make that thickness jiggle'?" Horror seized him and she never felt so smug before. It gave her the strangest of highs. "I want to hear you say it, Uzumaki-kun. Tell me you promise that you don't want to fuck me," Pain. There was so much pain in his eyes. As if she were ripping his life away from him. Well, she wasn't happy about this either!
He still said nothing.
No. This wouldn't do.
He had to promise to be good. She can forget about his perverse desires and they can go back to being friends.
But he has to promise her!
"Uzumaki-kun… if you can't do that…" her eyes ached as her demeanor crumbled. "Tell me it's not because I'm married."
Calluses brushed against her jaw as he smashed his lips to hers, their sweat mixing between their tongues.
He was ravenous.
His tongue forced itself between her teeth, sweeping every crevice and cavern, dominating her inexperienced tongue in a way she couldn't grasp.
Her face scrunched with the need to breathe, his heat washing over her in unbearable waves.
Just how could a boy like him hunger for a shapeless woman like herself?
He broke away panting heavily before he devoured her mouth once more.
And little by little, his desperation softened into languid savorings as he suckled and pecked her lips, as he rubbed his thumb over her earlobe and ran his free hand through her unfashionable hair.
He broke away for the final time, forehead resting against hers, and she's suddenly so aware of how tall he is, how he must have strained to kiss her with his entire being.
He's still petting her earlobe with his thumb.
Her breath hitches in her throat.
His thumb slides over to swipe at the tears inexplicably spilling from her eyes.
She searches his stormy blues, now resembling the overcast calm after the storm and she finds herself uprooted from her old life.
She just sexually provoked a nineteen-year-old boy.
She just made out with that same boy.
And the way he looked at her and caressed her, the ancient familiarity making her sadness worse as she attributed it to Toneri during their honeymoon...
Uzumaki-kun looked at her as if he were in love.
Oh god. What have I done?