I'm standing inside, hugging my binder to my chest, looking out the window. Jou is sitting at a table in the center of the courtyard, like we had agreed. He's slumped over, drumming his fingertips on the edge of his book. The way he's facing, I can only see the lower-right part of his face. His shoulders are pretty strong, and there's a curve of muscle on his arm. He's wearing unlaced high-top Converse and slightly faded jeans that make him look very relaxed and unfairly sexy - not that I want him in that way.
Not that I spent an extra hour today choosing the perfect outfit. And it certainly wasn't because of him that I gave myself a bit of a headache from looking too close at the mirror so I could make sure I applied my eyeliner and mascara perfectly. And the fact that I had gone to the store last night to buy more lipstick is purely coincidental – I was out. I needed more. But even if I did put a little more effort into my appearance today, it doesn't matter. Because I have the unfortunate privilege of hearing his every thought – and it's been made perfectly clear how he feels about me. I'm sick. So why would I even try?
Because deep down in the dark corners of my mind, I have to admit that I still have the tiniest bit of a crush on him.
That I can't get over the bit of history I have with him.
I remember the day my mild interest in Jou morphed into an evil crush – one with devil horns and a forked tail and everything. It was when I still had friends. I had known Jou's sister. We were friends – not perfect, best friends or anything, but we hung out when no one else was free. It was before she ended up moving away to be with her mom – while Jou stuck around to take care of their father.
I was over at her house. She and I were in her room. I was trying to teach her how to put on her eyeliner without stabbing herself in the eye all the time. I heard some footsteps on the stairs, and she joked, "Here comes my brother to make sure I haven't brought any men home," and I had just enough time to give a light laugh before Jou made it to the doorway. He'd just gotten back from jogging. He had on a gray T-shirt that was wet with his sweat and his hair was sticking to his face. His chest rose and fell with every heavy breath he took. He was holding a water bottle, and I noticed how long his fingers were. Then, as my eyes traveled up, I noticed how lean his arms were, how broad his chest looked. Finally, my eyes landed on his, and I was shocked to see that he had been looking right at me.
His gaze felt so intense that I wasn't able to blink or look away. Everything except his face seemed to fade out. I started to see tiny green pinpoints dance around the edges of my vision from not blinking. That look he had given me did something deep inside me that no other man had done before. I still shudder sometimes when I think about it.
"Hey," he had said to me, and I saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat. There was something really private in the way he had said it – as though he was trying to talk so only I could hear. I knew that one word also contained a memory we both shared: the two of us, beside the tree in his front yard.
"Hey," I replied, sounding more composed than I felt on the inside.
"We're busy, Jou. Unless you want to wear makeup?" Shizuka teased.
"Nah, I'm good." He said. But he didn't look her way even once. His eyes lingered on me for longest possible time, and then he was gone down the hall. I blinked, eyes tearing up from being open so long, and returned to earth, trying to figure out what was suddenly different.
For a good two months after, I thought of Jou in a way I never had before. I knew I was interested in him before, but it was different now. I kept replaying the scene in my head. I kept hearing that one word over and over – Hey. It even snuck into my dreams a few times. I imagined him shouting it over a storm. I heard him say it just before I went to sleep, and it would wake me up. I pictured him whispering it just before kissing me.
Hey, Mai. Hey.
That moment – that word – tormented me so much that, one day, I decided that it was enough. I put on my favorite clothes and went over to his house when I knew his sister wasn't home. Ignoring the voice in my head telling me that I was being stupid and I shouldn't get too involved, I knocked on the front door. I concentrated on standing tall and unafraid as I heard someone coming down the stairs. He called through the door, "Who is it?"
"Mai." I said, glad that I was good at projecting confidence even if I didn't feel it all the way through. The door opened and there he was, looking at me. And I looked at him.
"Hey," he said, and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed again.
"Hey," I replied. I was almost shocked to see that he was now almost eye to eye with me. When did he get so tall? I wondered as I looked closer at him. The scar on his elbow from skateboarding, the way his lips curved upward, the blonde hair that hung just over his eyes. Other than that one word exchange, we didn't speak. We didn't smile. We kind of just stood there, looking. But somehow it wasn't awkward. I tilted my head, trying to remember why I came in the first place. Trying to tell him something I couldn't put into words. Somehow I think he understood anyway.
He took a step toward me. I took a step toward him. We were now close enough to feel the heat of each other's bodies. And at that moment I knew, dead sure, that he was going to kiss me. I stood, staring at him, and I waited for it. Anticipation rolled around in my gut.
"Um..." Suddenly, he leaned back. "Shizuka isn't home right now." He gripped the doorknob so hard his knuckles turned white
"I see." Was all I could reply. And that's when I got my very first real psychic vibe. I heard him think she's way sick up close. And then I watched as he turned red and shrank back into the safety of his house. The door closed between us.
My face didn't change, but honestly that closed door hurt like a brick in the face. I had never felt that way about a man before, and I haven't ever since. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. Maybe I should've, but I didn't. I was hurt, but I didn't let myself feel it. I simply ran a hand through my hair, let out a long sigh, and turned on my heel - away from the door. Apparently, that private moment we had shared wasn't what I thought. The eye-contact was nothing more than one of those inexplicable moments that is immediately over analyzed and inevitably misread.
And, boy, did I really do that. I couldn't hold it against him when I was the one who judged the entire situation wrong.
I couldn't go to his house after that. Maybe that's one reason Shizuka and I ended up falling apart before she moved. The only time I ever saw Jou again was if we passed on the streets or at the store. A year later, he was enrolled at the same college I was, and I got to see him everyday. But I pretended not to see him. I acted as if we hadn't known each other at all. I don't know if he agrees with it, and I don't care. He may have not felt the same way to me as I did him, but at least he respected me enough to go along with it.
And now, today, I am supposed to meet with Jou for a character project. I am supposed to spend my free time with him. I am supposed to talk to him and hear his thoughts and relive the past over and over again. Finally, proof that there is a God – and that he's a total sadist. A complete asshole.
I'm standing inside, hugging my binder to my chest, looking out the window at Jou like some kind of stalker perv. But I can't bring myself to walk out and meet him. Too much. The lose way he's sitting, his long legs, his jeans, the shine of the sunlight in his hair, his lightly tanned skin, the amazing curve of his jaw, the way he's biting the corner of his lip, his voice, his scent, his eyes. He's too much. The way I have to hear how he thinks about me. It's too much. Everything is too much.
I have a simple solution. I pull out my iPod and put in my earphones, turn my music up, and turn away from him.
Cowardice is underrated.