Shinjuku Night
Otani.
It was there, beside her. It seemed like a dream, the consistency of a nightmare. Open-mouthed, she stared at him in disbelief.
Otani in Tokyo?
His eyes looked at her, serious. No smile. The hand still firmly on her wrist. He was waiting for a response that Risa did not want to give.
What was he doing there Otani?
It was always him, but the look serious and focused on her was devoid of any tenderness. The round face was no longer smooth and plump as she remembered. The sign of beard shaved dirtied his handsome features, and seemed cooler than she remembered. Pursed lips and the corners slightly downwards told her clearly that he was not happy to see her. Still, she would have sworn that the fingers of the boy, firm on her skin, did move in a caress, almost comforting.
Suddenly she recovered. Her lips pursed, her eyes darkened and she averted from him. With her left hand took the glass and drank it in one breath. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked at him defiantly.
"That's my business."
Otani did not take it. Eyes narrowed, while the close on the pulse of Risa grew louder. He was about to answer her, but she got up, had pulled the plug for free, and had made a couple of steps, to stop almost immediately. A terrifying nausea assailed her.
No, damn! She was about to throw up! And then, suddenly, she collapsed miserably on her knees, clutching the stomach.
She felt the arms of Otani under her armpits, that pulled up in weight. The severe dizziness prevented her from understanding what he was doing, but he was supporting and driving her to the toilet. Somewhere in her brain, Risa wondered what kind of nightmare she was living. Drunk, vomiting in the bathroom while her former boyfriend was holding on the hair.
She wanted to die. She was tired, dirtied by the vomit, died in shame and could not stand. And Otani, her ex-boyfriend, her first love, whom she had not seen for four years and continued to dream of every night, was there to witness that ignoble spectacle.
Perhaps in reaction to shame, something snapped in the brain of Risa and everything went black around her. Or maybe it was the alcohol level in her body to made her senseless
The awakening was, as always, wrapped in a sense of numbness, a bitter taste in the mouth and despair. The classic awakening hangover of Risa Koizumi.
With a difference.
She had not woken up at her own house. It's the thing was not comforting, but foreshadowed future complications.
In the darkness of the room, Risa felt the silence that enveloped her, the sheets smell nice, but unknown, that covered. And then, thin and almost imperceptible, deep breathing, and regular, someone who was sleeping beside her.
If the memory of the meeting with Otani was erased from his mind, the smell would have been enough for her to remember who was sleeping beside her.
For a moment, Risa was happy. Happy to have him there, sleeping. Happy to feel his breath, his smell, his warmth. Happy that he was there, beside her.
She roused himself quickly from that thought. What nonsense. Otani was now a stranger to her. Not that they had exchanged a few sentences, and nothing personal.
As the minutes passed, the lucidity made its way into her. He moved a bit ', and she realized that she was tucked under the covers dressed only in underwear. She blushed, though welcoming the fact that yes, it was embarrassing that he had seen her half naked, but if anything he had seen her in good condition.
Immediately one huge doubt assailed her. The doubt that, for the second time, Otani had taken advantage of her moment of weakness. And despair assailed her again. Not so much for having given in to the will of others. Not so much for the idea of doing something that is not wanted.
Why yes, hell ... She was dying to feel again the hands and lips of Otani. Only that she wanted to be present, she wanted to kiss him in turn, touch, exchanging glances with him, lost in her breathing and make him lose himself inside her.
While there, wrapped in silence, Risa suddenly understood. She understood that her despair was just the other side of desire, and that in those years was not the trauma to prevent her from making love or Hajime Shoji, but the fact that for them she didn't feel nothing of what she felt for Otani.
She turned on the light.
.He moved slightly. He was lying on the bed sheets, fully dressed. The grip of despair faded, because it was clear that between them, nothing had happened, but the disappointment she felt was telling her how much she had misinterpreted her feelings for all those four years.
She was still madly in love with that shrimp
