Chapter 62j: A Porcelain Elephant
Clack clack clack. Clack clack clack. Clack clack clack.
I still the rhythmic clicking of my nails on the mudguard of my moped as I realize he is getting under my skin despite not even being here.
Few things are as frustrating as waiting at a windy-ass busstop when you don't even want to take the damn bus! As if this day couldn't get any worse!
All because the damn kid is late! Didn't he want to talk?
Were it not for him, I would not be here.
And if it weren't him I would have already left for being stood up like this!
... Okay. It technically isn't directly his fault that this bus frequently runs late. But you plan for that when you ask someone to meet you!
And even then you make sure to leave home early so you don't waste someones time!
But even though the bus from ten minutes ago was fifteen minutes late, he wasn't on it.
What the fuck is this kid doing, wasting my time?
Suddenly, there's the screeching of brakes coming from behind me. I'm a bit startled, and push back a little to make way for the damn kid that is cycling on the footpath. It's a bit rude, but when you are in a residential neighborhood, especially five-hundred meters away from a school.. you learn to expect it a bit.
Unexpectedly, no kid passes me, and I look to where the sound came from to see that damn kid sitting on his bike.
"I thought you were taking the bus." I say in greeting, although it ought to be obvious I'm not particularly charmed by him.
"I changed my mind. This is better." That rogueish grin he's sporting when saying that gives me a slightly better impression, but only slightly. I am too damn cold to get my ass charmed by the likes of him!
As I am about to roll my eyes at him and rebuke him, the wind abuses the fact I'm not facing away from it anymore and blows my own hair into my eyes.
Fuck. There's no way a glare will work now. I can tell he is amused by my predicament as a grin plays on the corners of his lips.
This is why I always do something with my hair before going out. It is so damn unwieldy if I don't! I've considered shaving it all off, but mom rebuked me for entertaining the notion and Setsuka begged me not to claiming my hair is my 'best feature'.
In the end, I relented to her tears and promised her I wouldn't cut it. It is kind of hard to win an argument that revolves around being seen as a woman as opposed to a vessel for my second-best feature. I guess one too many rants about guys not looking me in the eyes when they talk to me has pretty much served her that winning argument on a silver platter.
"Don't you have any clips or hairties? That looks so cumbersome."
No shit, Sherlock. Are you just trying to rub it in now?
"The hairtie snapped earlier. The things wear out."
Braid it, pin it, ponytail, whatever. I'm not a glamorous diva that feels a need to spend twenty minutes fussing her hair into shape every morning. It just needs to be neat and out of the way.
He sighs as he gets off the bike.
"Turn around, I'll give you a hand."
I raise an eyebrow in confusion as he takes his hand out of his pocket. Why the fuck does a boy with short hair have hairties on him?
Damn, that is so creepy!
If I wasn't so sure he never had an opportunity to even touch mine, I'd be ready to accuse him of sabotaging mine to facilitate some sort of cheesy pickup line!
Something about my expression must have set him off.
"Geez, what is it with that look? If I took out a rubber, maybe I'd get you a little. But a guy having a rubber in his pocket just means he is prepared! Same with these."
My jaw almost drops, and I am not sure if I am impressed or disgusted by his sense of 'game'. I walk over towards his side so that I can face away from the wind once more.
This kid is really growing up. Can I even think of him as a kid now?
Fuck, Setty is going to be so disappointed when her pure Nii-san turns into one of those typical pigs. Maybe it is for the best that she didn't go to live with him; maybe the impression can remain for just a little while longer.
"... Do you?"
My reply to his statement is in my casually-affectionate voice that is nevertheless filled with the timbre of doubt. This typically works wonders to actually getting answers as opposed to brainless male machoism, and I can only hope it'll work on Cain, too.
I am not sure if it is a blush or just the cold wind making his face have this healthy ruddy look, but he shakes his head quickly.
"Don't be stupid. I'm only thirteen years old. And that tone of voice doesn't fit you at all."
Ugh. I got seen thru by a damn kid. So damn embarrassing! All I can do now is laugh it off while looking as confident as I can.
He better not tell Setty I used a slutty tone on him. God. No way!
I laugh a bit harder just to make sure he doesn't smell any weakness.
In the past I have tried the 'cutesy innocent' thing as that works for most other girls when coaxing guys, but that just doesn't work for me. I guess I am not frail enough to trigger the entire protective-glint thing in men. Maybe I curse too much..?
Either way, I just get faced with their possessive instincts, so instead I have to debase the shit out of myself to get what I want. I hate it, but I am not stupid enough to ignore a useful life skill out of sheer principle.
And yet a fucking kid saw through it. Gah!
"So, are you going to turn around so I can fix your hair?"
I bring an end to my laughter and shake my head, just holding out my hand so he can drop the hairties in. "I'll do it myself. Thanks." My voice no doubt betrays my disbelief and hints of scorn at a guy offering to fix my hair. He's not a barber! And just a kid!
He shakes his head, shrugging. His hand slowly moves out with the hairties to drop them in my hand, but he is dragging it out.
"In this wind? You can either run inside so you are out of the wind, or you can look ridiculous with a half-assed job because the gale keeps messing you up. And you look too neatly put-together the rest of the time for me to believe you'd be willing to look shabby if you can actually look decent. But hey, here you go."
His smile is gloating so confidently that I find it more hateful by the second.
What the fuck? How does this kid understand women so much? That makes absolutely no sense.
Ugh. I sigh and turn around in an exaggerated fashion as I reply.
"If you make a mess out of it, I'm going to make you regret it, okay?"
Intentionally relying on my sweetest-sounding voice, I can barely notice his confident smirk faltering, which in turn makes me feel better as I move to sit down on my moped.
At least sitting down on my moped will save me the shame of having to bend through my knees so he can reach my hair.
"You'll look fine. Geez. You sound just like her."
He sounds a bit irritated. Wonderful!
"Like who? Do you have a girlfriend now?"
As his hands start to gather my hair, I can feel him be just a little bit rougher as I make that suggestion. I guess he isn't pleased, but since he can't see my grin anyways, I make sure to fully enjoy his displeasure.
"No. Setsuka. Who else? I used to pick her up from school and fix her hair regularly back in the day."
Ah. That does make sense. I clack my tongue in surprise as suddenly a few things fall into place.
"So that's why you carry hairties around with you like a total creep?"
Damn. If I ever found a boyfriend to carry hairties for emergencies, I think I'd consider him a keeper. It's just so sweet and thoughtful!
Now I feel bad for not defending him more towards Setsuka's little tantrum crusade. And.. oh. Crap. I just called him a creep, didn't I?
But thankfully, he laughs as he nods. I can feel the motions of his body through his handling of my hair; his fingers on my scalp just betray all those little movements. Am I always this hypersensitive, or is it just because a guy that isn't a barber is fixing my hair?
Nope nope nope. Don't blush, cheeks. He may not be able to see it, but this weird feeling isn't embarassment. It is just weird.
But even then I can feel them heat up just a little bit.
"They weren't meant for you, if that's any consolation."
I offer a little snort at the thought. If nothing else, I need to make sure to pick up more hairties later. It feels plain bad to be out-prepared on a girl issue by a boy several years younger!
Then he clears his throat, and his voice is almost a full octave lower as he speaks once more.
"Anyhow, Jenny... the reason I asked you to meet me here is because I want to ask for your help."