“Sir.”

Ryosuke, who had barely taken a few steps into his company, stopped walking and faced the clerk at the counter.

The lady in the middle said, “Ryota-san’s in your room.” She took out a clasped envelope and handed it to him. “These are the list of interviewees at four this evening, Sir.”

He took the package. “Thank you.” He resumed his walk while eyeing around his business. Oddly, being around the noisy and bratty children, who were customers along with their parents at his business, put him at ease. Maybe it was because he had had some experience with a child. He reached his office, and, as notified, in his black cushioned chair was a slouching caramel-colored man in a hooded, neon-yellow T-shirt and denim shorts. “Ryota, what are you doing here?”

Ryota was Sugita-san’s younger brother who had become close to Ryosuke. Ryota shifted in the seat. “Trying to understand how you can deal with kids.”

Ryosuke gestured to the younger, leaner man to get off his seat to sit elsewhere. As they exchanged seats and Ryosuke sat down, he saw in front of him an invitation card. He picked it up, placing the envelope he had in his hand down. “What’s this?”

“Oh!” Ryota hopped onto the adjacent seat. “I almost forgot. Brother’s getting married this weekend. You’re invited.”

Ryosuke dropped the invitation. “And you’re only giving it to me now? Just days away?”

“Well, I figured you’d be so busy and would lose the invitation since you have a lot going on with the current building extension.” He eyed the invitation. “You’re coming, right?” He accompanied the next comment with a smirk. “And your date’s with that construction girl, right?”

“Her name’s Ayame Gouriki, Ryota,” reminded Ryosuke for the nth time. “And she won’t be my date.”

“Why, you’re not going?”

“You already know I’m busy.”

“But it’s my brother—he was your coach in high school, and you even worked with him for two years or something.”

After Mirai left him, Ryosuke was completely broken. Lifeless. Hopeless. He didn’t attend his first year of college with the rest of his friends because it’d remind him of what was lost. When the friends had done and tried everything, they figured it was time to bring in a third party, and that third party was Sugita-san. They didn’t tell him all the details, but they did tell him that Mirai ran out on them without any explanation. Sugita-san then offered a part-time job to keep Ryosuke from being depressed, and the part-time job was to be his assistant and help coach the underclassmen. It was an easy job as it was back at the same high school. At the same time, it took a toll on Ryosuke because it was the same school the friends had attended.

“Come on, man,” Ryota begged. He stood up. “There’s going to be plenty of girls—single girls there, and I think it’s about time you find yourself a mate if you really want to get rid of that builder. And if you go, we can both hit on girls. A solo guy doing that doesn’t look too good, you know.”

That was the thing about Ryota. He was a skirt-chaser. He loved women, and, well, women liked him too. Unlike Ryosuke, who was a bit on the rough and edgier side and emitted a hard-to-approach aura due to his evolved features, Ryota could easily slide himself into any adult conversation, and the audience would love him. He was a smooth talker and could make his audience feel comfortable.

And it was thanks to Ryota that Ryosuke had realized he had always loved his best friend.

It happened on Ryosuke’s twenty-first birthday.

Ryota couldn’t celebrate Ryosuke’s birthday with everyone else because he was spending the “night” with a “friend,” so to make it up, Ryota had promised to take Ryosuke out on an adult adventure the next time they meet. At first, Ryosuke thought it’d be drinking and partying at a club or something, but it turned out to be much better.

Until nightfall.

Ryota brought his “friend” and his “friend’s” friend, both girls. The four of them hung out at the amusement park, and midway, Ryota and his “friend” disappeared, leaving Ryosuke alone to his partner. When they were about to leave the park, Ryosuke received a text from Ryota, who gave him instructions on what to do next. Ryosuke figured that it would be rude to just separate from there, so he followed the directions of taking the girl, Atsuko Maeda, out for dinner.

Dinner wasn’t the problem though.

She wasn’t a picky eater, a nasty eater, or a troubling eater in any way.

The problem was what happened during it.

Atsuko was this sweet girl with a bright innocent-like smile, her eyes glittered along with the formation of her smile, and a slight flush at her cheeks made her seem even more innocent than a child. That impression was all gone and destroyed when she started scratching her foot up against his, almost reaching his most private part.

He thought it was his imagination because a sweet girl like Atsuko would never do such a thing.

But her leg continued to feel him. It started from his ankle, rhythmically making swirls, then it casually brushed up to his thigh.

He tried to keep his calm to not embarrass her in case it really was his imagination or a misunderstanding of some sort, but a huge part of him knew that it wasn’t at all. When he saw her eat comfortably as if she didn’t know what was going underground, he became irritated because although she might be thinking that he was aroused, he wasn’t. Who liked to be bothered while eating, let alone dining with a stranger and not knowing whether the food was going in the mouth or up the nose?

He finally had enough when he felt her leg making its way toward a sensitive area, so he dropped his spoon, pushed his seat back, crossed his legs, and glared at her.

This received her attention, and she looked up from her plate. She even used her doe-eyes to blink at him.

“I’ve had enough. What’s up with you?”

At first, she played dumb, and he called her out on it, so she stopped acting and showed her real self. She explained that she was “helping” him before the actual physical activity as promised.

He had heard nothing about a promise, so when he inquired for more information, she spilled that Ryota had asked her to comfort his aching heart. A confused and annoyed Ryosuke explained himself and his intention and then excused himself, leaving her to find her own way home. He irritably drove to Ryota’s place to get a better understanding as to why his friend had set up such a thing. When he arrived, he had unintentionally interrupted his friend’s “fun” and after stressing that he wouldn’t wait for an hour to talk, the lady left the house, unhappy, and muttered a curse word under her breath.

“What’s the problem, man?” Ryota asked on the bed, completely and thankfully covered by the blanket. He reached to the floor to get his boxers. “You’re supposed to be back in another two or three hours.”

Ryosuke explained to Ryota that what Ryota had done was unnecessary and disrespectful. He also asked about what was the “aching heart” that the lady had referred to, and Ryota explained he had overheard his brother and Ryosuke talking about a girl that had left Ryosuke and was the reason Ryosuke had been in a slump for the past two years. Ryosuke clarified the girl was his friend, not some lover or anything.

Ryota disagreed, commenting that friends didn’t go through such a heartbreak or even get this depressed. He then dropped the bomb that if the girl Ryosuke was hurt over for wasn’t a girlfriend or a crush, why couldn’t Ryosuke just have a little fun since the girl did consent, and there was nothing wrong with consensual intimacy between adults.

That was when it hit Ryosuke.

“She’s not her,” Ryosuke spoke those words monotonously as a wave of shock washed over him. He celebrated his epiphany with Ryota by hopping onto the bed, hugging him, and thanking him repeatedly.

“So, you going?” Ryota asked again.

“You know what?” Ryosuke picked up the invitation and eyed it with a smile. Thanks to Ryota, Ryosuke knew what to do. “Tell him I can make it, and I’m bringing a surprising date.”

Ryota’s eyes widened and mouth gaped open. “Who? Do I know her? It’s not builder-woman, right?”

Ryosuke didn’t answer and only gave a sly smirk to the man across his desk. Perfect excuse.

*

“Lunch? Now?” Mirai, talking on the phone with Ayame, glanced at the black and white clock on the wall across her in her office. “My lunch break isn’t until another hour.” With her free hand, she stacked a few documents over each other and stapled them. “I’d like to, but I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Wait, okay?” asked Ayame on the other line.

Mirai waited on the line, leaving the black phone clamped in between her cheek and shoulder, as she got up to walk to a white, five-cubed drawer unit to open it and drop the stapled documents in it. When she closed it, Ayame got back on the line.

“We can wait. I’ll text you the place, so come by, ‘kay!” And just like that, she hung up.

Mirai removed the phone and uttered, “We?”

*

“You made it!” exclaimed a joyful Ayame as she hugged Mirai at the door of the restaurant they had planned to meet up for lunch.

Mirai, who had just entered, was startled at first, so she belatedly returned a greeting. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. An appointment of mine lasted longer than expected.”

Ayame escorted her further inside. “That’s fine. We just got here too.”

Mirai noticed “we” again and questioned it.

Ayame pursed her lips and scrunched up her face as if she had committed something bad. “I’m not alone…and the person with me is…”

“Good afternoon, Mi-chan.” It was a male’s voice. Someone they both knew.

Mirai froze, and her heart almost popped out of her chest. Two tables straight down from where she stood sat a suited Ryosuke, unconcernedly waving a hand at them. She pulled Ayame to the side. “What’s this?”

Ayame whispered back, “So, he’s right. You don’t like him?”

Mirai gasped, “What?”

“Well, you know I work for him, right?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with me? Or eating lunch with him?” All her defenses were up, and she wondered if Ayame had been told anything about her own relationship with Ryosuke.

“He has an idea, and we talked about it, and it involves you, but he told me that you seem to not like him.” She backed away and grimaced. “Is it because of what he had done at the party?”

Mirai couldn’t think with everyone around her also talking at the top of their lungs, so she said to her friend, “Let’s talk outside. I think I need air.” She walked away without her. Outside, she could see through the glassed window that Ayame had quickly gone to chat with Ryosuke, who only nodded, and then Ayame ran back out to meet her.

“Sorry,” said Ayame, “I wanted to tell him we’re out here first.”

“Ayame-chan.” Mirai grabbed onto her friend’s hand. “It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just…I—” She tried to come up with a good lie, but nothing crossed her mind. “Okay, my son’s his brother’s god-child, and personally, although I root for you two and-and would like for you to get with him, it’s weird for me to be around him—especially when we’re both strangers. I hope you understand.”

“Are you really not bothered by what he did to you?”

“No, no!” Mirai furiously waved her hands. “I’m fine, really. Umm,” she scratched the back of her head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t have lunch with you. Take this as a chance to have a lunch-date together.” She turned around and walked away.

“But, Mi-chan.” Ayame stopped her. “He has a great idea! For you and Natsu!”

I knew it’ll be related to him. She put on a smile and turned back around, and her eyes came across Ryosuke’s intense stare at her through the windows, but she ignored it. To Ayame, she said, “I’d love to sit, eat, and chat about it, but I’d like to not have myself or my son be involved.”

“Okay, fine. It’s really for me.”

“I thought he has the idea?”

“It’s his idea, but the reason why I’m going along with it is because…well, I kind of have a motive behind all of this.”

The girls looked at each other.

Ayame embarrassingly confessed, “I want you to help us get together.”

*

“Thank you very much,” Ryosuke said as he put out a hand for a shake after signing a business contract with Mirai. “It’ll be a pleasure to work with you and your son.”

Mirai looked at his hand waiting for hers and hesitated to shake it but after seeing her friend slightly budge her head at the hand, she held in her emotions and faked a smile. “Yes, it’ll be a pleasure.” She shook hands with him and briefly felt an electric spark between the hands, so she quickly pulled away. His hands are still as rough as ever. “I’ll be heading back now, so you two enjoy your—”

“Mirai,” he abruptly stood up, “if you don’t mind, let me take you back. I saw you came by taxi and since I was the one who requested your service and time, I must send you back.”

“No, thanks.” Her limit was slowly reaching an end. “I came by taxi, I go by—”

From behind Ryosuke, Ayame silently pleaded to Mirai to go with him.

Mirai pursed her lips. “Actually,” I’m going to regret this. “I’ll be glad to take a ride from you.”

*

Mirai and Ryosuke stood outside his car to wave goodbye and watch Ayame drive out.

As soon as her car disappeared after turning a right at the stop sign, Mirai faced him. “You don’t have to drive me, but we need to talk.”

“Won’t you be late to work then? I can tell this will be a long one.”

“You don’t know where I work, and I absolutely don’t—”

“You’re a pediatrician at Tokyo Children Center.”

“How…?”

He chuckled as he disarmed his car and opened his car door. “Don’t worry. My brother didn’t tell me. I got it from Ms. Gouriki.” As he got in, he said, “Come on, I’ll take you.”

She unwillingly got in and buckled her belt. Looking ahead to avoid his gaze at her, she asked him, “What else do you know about me?”

“You’re in denial about your feelings for me,” he purposely said with a grin as he stepped on the gas pedal to reverse out of the parking lot.

“Am not!” She glared at him, and the two locked eyes for a quick moment before looking away. She added, “Since we’re on that subject, Ayame’s beautiful—”

“She knows how I feel about her already.” He shifted into drive and slowly made his exit out of the plaza and onto the street. “If you’re planning to hook us up, don’t bet on it.” He quickly peeped at her. “I love you, and I hope you’re mature enough to not do such a childish and petty act of service just to keep me away from you and Natsu.”

She scoffed. “Petty? Childish?” She put out a hand. “Then, what about you coming up with this business plan of making Natsu your mascot and whatnot,” she put out another hand, “and even requesting information from her and using her to do this?” She put her hands down and slumped into her seat. “I think that’s also petty and childish of you too.”

With one hand, he ruffled her hair while chuckling at how she had angrily responded to him. “This is why we’re a perfect match.”

She shoved his hand away and muttered to him, “Just drive, please.” Her hot cheeks reddened, so she faced the window.

“Got it, my lady.”

*

The friends reached her workplace, and as he parked the car, he said to her, “Wait, I have one more thing.”

She unbuckled her belt and waited.

He opened the glove box and took out an envelope. “Remember Sugita-san, our coach back in high school?”

She nodded, curious as to where he was going with this.

“He and Rie-san are getting married this weekend!” He had expected a surprised reaction from her, but all she gave him was a blank look. “They’re getting married,” he repeated.

“Yeah, and?”

“Let’s attend together. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you after your long absence. And our friends will be there, so we can all hang out.”

“I’m busy.” She was ready to open the door and get out, but he stopped her with his hand on her arm.

“It’s not for me, but do it for Coach.”

When he put it that way, she really couldn’t say anything about it. She looked back and forth between the envelope and him. She sighed. “You’re right.”

“I’ll pick you and Natsu up at ten, okay?”

She candidly smiled at him. “Okay.” She stepped out and closed the door and walked to her building. When she got inside, she looked back out and saw him reverse out of the parking lot and drive away.

“Dr. Yamada, who’s he?” asked a colleague, making Mirai flinch.

“Sorry, umm, when’s my next appointment?”

“In ten minutes.” The colleague handed her a clipboard with an attached document.

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