Saga delivered me home in one piece. I only had a fleeting thought that it would be polite to invite him in after he had gone so far out of his way; letting him into my house, when Koemi was due to get in from soccer practice within the hour, wouldn't have been the best idea. I wasn't ready for that step yet. I wanted to enjoy the fantasy for a little longer.

Instead, I fidgeted outside of the apartment building, giving Saga a tiny bow and expressing my gratitude as I took my bag back. I couldn't think of any kind of excuse to give for not inviting him in, so I only hoped that he hadn't been expecting it to begin with.

We stood outside for a few awkward moments after saying goodbye, both of us waiting for some kind of move from the other. The possibility that he was bargaining for a kiss of any kind was enough to pull me away first. I dipped my head one final time before backing off and making a hasty exit, wanting to get away from the emotions Saga gave me more than I wanted to stay with him physically.

It was halfway between the ground and fifth floor (where my apartment was) when I heard my cell phone vibrating from one of the interior pockets of my satchel. I back against the elevator wall, thankful that I was the only one in it at the time, and dug around for the phone. I didn't get a hold of it until I'd reached my floor, so I was tied up in flipping it open and navigating my way into the text I'd received while exiting the elevator. I thought it was best not to try to walk and read at the same time, so I waited until I reached my door and had it unlocked before opening the message. The door was swinging open when I saw that Saga was the sender.

I have ur license. Forgot to give it back! Meet up again 2morrow? We might as well get dinner while we're out, too ;-]

A scoff charged out of me before I could help it. What a brat. If he’d actually forgot about having my license that entire time then I would be willing to challenge Miyavi to a guitar duel and gamble my next paycheck. (I did have to give Saga credit for the full sentences and minimal word shortcuts, at least). Saga couldn't have even made it to the end of the block by then; I should have just run back down and caught him before he got too far, just to deflate his ego.

"Well, if that's not the face of an angel then I don't know what is."

Or not.

Everything in me froze when I heard Yuuma's voice. The last move I made was snapping my eyes up from the screen of my cell.

Yuuma was straight ahead, lounging back on the sofa in the family room and bearing witness to my entrance. He gave a silent snicker, one that I couldn't distinguish as benign or bestial, and rolled his body forward so that he could swing up to his feet.

"Honestly," he continued, patting his pants into place, "I don't think I've seen you beam like that in years."

It was when Yuuma said that I was beaming that I realized I actually was beaming. My lips lost all of their strength and sunk into a ghoulish sort of open-mouthed gape as a result. Yuuma snickered again.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, walking towards me. I couldn't think of any way to respond, so I waited and let him come up to me. He the phone in my hands. "Who're you talking to that's got you so cheerful?"

"No one," I sputtered, snapping the phone closed and turning away to shove it back into my bag. When I righted myself, Yuuma was scrutinizing me through narrowed eyes.

"Now I'm really interested," he said. He crossed his arms over is chest, and his stance squared. For the millionth time, I was struck by how much Koemi took after him; they had the same stern facial expression. She certainly took after him more than me, in both looks and disposition.

I brushed off Yuuma's implied request and steered myself around him, making for the kitchen.

"I'm assuming you picked up Koemi," I said, already knowing the statement was true. If Yuuma was able to get away from work early, he would drive Koemi home from the soccer field and usually end up staying for dinner. I didn't mind it most of the time, but that wasn't one of those times.

"Of course, she‘s cleaning up now," came Yuuma's needless confirmation. He followed me into the kitchen, marking my every move as I discarded my bag and jacket and jewelry. "But Hanayu, seriously, I didn't mean to embarrass you. Why are you so tense all of a sudden?"

I took in a deep breath and then moved to the sink to wash my hands. "Nothing."

I ran my fingers under the water after lathering, shut off the faucet when I finished and migrated over to the refrigerator, not bothering to dry. Yuuma's eyes burned holes in my back as I gathered a variety of vegetables, but I didn't try to throw him off or reassure him otherwise. We knew each other too well; it wouldn't work anyway.

"Ah," he drawled after a moment, tapping his toe of his YSL dress shoes to the floor. "I get it now. That was that guy you're seeing, wasn't it?"

My journey around the stove was barely disrupted at all. I only bristled for a fraction of a second and shot a look Yuuma's way. I caught the start of his casual shrug before I turned back to my task.

"Koemi told me you what kind of 'friend' you went out with other night," Yuuma stated. I should have figured as much. Koemi had somewhat of a "daddy's little girl" complex, but I couldn't blame her for it. Yuuma's personality was inviting and infectious; he was the kind of guy that livened any party. I sometimes thought that half of why we didn't last was because being with him was just too much of a good thing for me.

"We're not seeing each other," I nixed as I crouched down to retrieve my stir-fry pan from a lower cabinet. "Not in the way Koemi thinks. We're just going out. Not going out, I mean, but we go out. As friends. Not any special kind, just friends. For fun, you know?"

It wasn't a lie. Nothing had escalated between me and Saga to suggest otherwise. I had adumbrated my boundaries and Saga had respected them. We were working out fine. Fine and celibate.

"Hanayu," Yuuma said, his tone suddenly frank and patronizing. Just like I knew I couldn't fool him, he knew he didn't have to finish his sentence. I got the message and spared a moment of my dinner preparations to glare at him from over my shoulder.

"Don’t talk to me like you know better, please," I directed, depositing the pan on the stove top and pulling out the draw to my right to grab a knife. "I’m serious. I don’t feel that way about him."

"Hanayu," Yuuma repeated, taking strolling step towards the counter, "you don’t have to hide anything. This is a good thing. If it’s making you happy, it’s a good thing."

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I just went on cooking, glad to have that activity as an outlet. I pulled out a cutting board from another cabinet and began chopping the ingredients I'd taken out of the fridge.

"Hanayu." Yuuma sounded closer, and, while my eyes didn't leave the peppers under my fingers, I saw him coming up beside me. "Hanayu, I'm serious."

When the portion of pepper was done being cut I laid my knife on the table and rounded on my ex-husband.

"It’s not like that," I said as firmly as I was capable of. I had no fear at all of looking Yuuma in the eye, just to put the nail in the coffin. But he didn't have any reservations with me either.

Yuuma’s torso bent in towards me in defiance. "I don’t believe you, Hana."

I tried to go back to my veggies, but Yuuma caught my wrist in mid-motion.

"Hana."

I swallowed, waiting a beat before obeying Yuuma’s tug and rotating myself towards him again. Both of his hands reached out to find mine, and his touch sent a wave of nostalgia washing over me.

"Hanayu," Yuuma said, his tongue practically melting in tenderness. His thumbs rubbed rows across the back of my hand. "Hanayu, don't do this to yourself. We knew it would happen someday. I'm okay. You don't have to worry about me being upset." I was silent, and Yuuma observed me for a little while longer before going on. "I can't be the only reason you're having a hard time with all this, though. What else is there? Are you just nervous? He's not some Yakuza thug, is he?"

I scowled but let Yuuma lace his fingers through mine. As intimate as it would seem to a third party member, the notion didn't feel any more affectionate to me than if Yuuma and I had been related by blood. I wondered what it would be like if it were Saga instead.

"Hanayu."

The muscles in my neck went on strike, and I found myself staring down at my feet as they shuffled back and forth. "It's nothing. It's just...it's nothing. Like I said, we're not even dating. I'm mean, he's a little younger than me. Well, more than a little. But that doesn't matter anyway, since we are only friends."

The words came out one after the other, dive-bombing into the open before I had the chance to double-think them. I felt like I sort of felt like I was bragging by telling my ex-husband that I was hanging around with a younger guy, but I wanted to see what his opinion on it was.

"You're a little younger than me," Yuuma pointed out. "And that barista I've been eyeing is a littler younger than you, too."

I wrenched my arms out of Yuuma’s and returned to dinner. His words were in good humor, and he knew that I wasn't legitimately offended. I was just further avoiding the situation.

"All jokes aside," Yuuma put forth, proving my point, "are you really sticking with this 'just friends' cliché? I saw your face when you walked in, Hana. I can read you better than anyone else, and you know it. The last time I saw you glowing like that was when Koemi too her first steps."

"Please," I said in protest. "I wasn't that excited."

"No, but it was pretty comparable."

"Whatever."

There was a full minute of silence, leaving me to chop my food in peace. Behind me, I heard Yuuma retire and begin moving around the room. The sound of wood scraping against the tiled floor signaled that he was sitting down at the table.

"This is nice," Yumma’s voice wriggled into the calm atmosphere. My eyes darted in the direction of the sound, but my head wasn't willing to turn.

"What do you mean?"

"Us teasing each other like this about our love lives. It's nice."

The mechanical cutting motions I'd been occupying myself with slowed and eventually stopped. Yuuma was right. It'd been a while since we were so at ease with each other. We may have never had hard feelings, but that didn't change the inevitable strain that came with any break-up, especially when it involved divorce and children. I'd mulled over how things between Yuuma and I had de-evolved into the sort of free-motion friendship we'd had while dating, but it was the first time the matter had been addressed out in the open.

"Yeah," I agreed, moving on to break up some broccoli. "It is nice."

"We should do it more often," Yuuma said. "You could invite your boyfriend sometime, too, so I can meet him."

That line earned him another dark, over-the-shoulder look from me. "You’re being obnoxious."

"No more than you," Yuuma countered. "Just admit that you have feelings for him, even itsy-bitsy ones. For your own sake, if not for mine. It must be driving you crazy."

My glare loosened, but I didn’t let Yuuma off the hook. I could feel the question in my expression, and Yuuma returned it with a tenderhearted smile.

"I never thought I’d have to tell you to move on after you were the one who dumped me, essentially," he said. "But if that’s what it takes, it’s what I’ll do. You deserve it, Hana. You deserve to be happy, and neither of us were happy with our marriage. You were strong enough to realize that and take action, even when everyone else criticized you for it."

Yuuma angled himself forward, but I was stalk still, hanging onto his every word. I didn't think I could look away from him if I tried; his stare was a black hole, bending my will and reason by some force of supernatural nature.

"Go for it, Hanayu. Don’t get caught up on the little things. I mean, they say age is just a number, don’t they? The only thing that matters is how well you get along. And that grin you came in with didn’t lie. Whether or not it's meant to be with this guy, you'll never know until you try, right?" Yuuma stumbled on his words and looked down, swallowing. "It might not mean anything to you, but you have my blessing. You know what’s best for you, and anyone who can make you this happy is bringing out the best in you. So don’t be afraid of it, okay?"

I blinked a few times, stuck on how I was supposed to react. Yuuma had always been fairly straight-forward, but something about his words struck me hard. There was an overflow of emotion inside of me, but at the same time that came with a sense of cleansing.

A minute or two passed, and I thought that it was about time I did something other than stand and gape like a guppy.

"Uh, sure," I choked out. Mortified, I swirled around and returned to my cooking.

Yuuma’s gentle chuckle sounded from behind me. "I wasn't kidding about meeting him, either. We obviously have the same great taste in women; maybe there’s a Bruce Willis-Ashton Kutcher sort of friendship waiting for us on the horizon."

The idea made my cheeks light up in laughter. "Don’t get ahead of yourself."

But still, I went against my own advice and entertained myself with the image. It didn't sound half bad, really.

And it also didn't sound all that unbelievable.