Eyes Like Honey - A Sakurai Sho Fanfic (3/?)
Pairing: Sakurai Sho x Fictional Female (Reader) *see note below
Rating: R for whole series, PG-13 for Ch.3 (suggestive language)
Beta: kyraensui & lianne29 (Thank you, ladies!)
Genre: Romance, Drama
Word count: 2,601
Plot: A 33-year-old singleton, Nijishima Kokoro, finds herself at a host club where she meets the club's most popular host, Sakurai Sho. The encounter propels Kokoro to explore a different kind of love as Sho helps Kokoro discover herself.
NOTE: This story reads like a shoujo manga--it is written in a fictitious first-person narrative where the reader is the protagonist. Please proceed with caution if you are uncomfortable with JE members having relationships with fictitious female characters (even if that female is you!).
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter Three: Imitations and Gimmicks
"Where are we going?"
It was the third time tonight that I had let him make decisions for me and this time, I didn't have a clue where I would be spending the next few hours.
"You'll know in a bit," he said over his shoulder.
Wanna bet?
At this point, I was pretty sure I knew nothing about what the rest of the night would bring.
Next to a park was a narrow path, a downhill walkway that was only wide enough for one person to pass at any given time. If another person were to come up toward us, we would have to turn and walk sideways. I wasn't quite sure why I continued to follow him. In hindsight, it's been like this since I met him. I didn't want the Sidecar he made me. Or at least, I thought I didn't. I didn't need him to walk me home. Or at least, I thought I didn't. I don't need him to keep me company after running into Ryota. Or at least, I thought I didn't.
At the end of the path was a quaint bar, a hideaway of sorts, void of any white noise and distractions of the world.
"After you, Miss Kokoro." He opened the door and waited for me to walk in first.
“Good evening. Ah! Mr. Sakurai!" An older man, perhaps in his late 50s, gave a little bow as he dried off some wine glasses. A younger man, mid-20s at most, heard the greeting and popped his head out from the kitchen.
"Sakurai sempai! It's been a while!" Flashing a perfect smile, he wiped his hands on his apron and bowed politely.
34 is “Mr. Sakurai”...?
At the abrupt knowledge of his real name, my widened eyes looked straight at the subject of conversation.
"Mr. Yamashiro. Hayato. Long time, no see. This is Miss Kokoro."
The older man glanced over at me, gave a polite smile, and looked back at 34.
"Miss Kokoro, it's a pleasure to meet you. Have a seat."
Like clockwork, 34 pulled out the seat nearest me and gestured for me to sit.
He's gotten a lot of practice pampering women like this, I bet.
No wonder he's a successful host.
Mr. Hayato grinned and gave me a bow before heading back into the kitchen.
"What would you like to drink, Miss Kokoro?" Mr. Yamashiro asked.
"Oh, um... a Sidecar, please." It was the first cognac cocktail I willing ordered for myself in my entire life.
"Looks like that really left an impression on you," 34 smiled.
You have no idea.
It consumes my every thought.
I'm addicted to it and my friends think I'm nuts.
Of course I couldn't say that.
"Yes, quite..."
" I'll have a bourbon, neat, in a traditional Glencairn. Your recommendation.”
"You got it."
I anticipated the punch of cognac to tickle my nostrils and for the citrus scents to flutter about. I ordered the same drink as the one he had made me that night, after all. My body in withdrawal, it longed for the scent. And yet, the yearning was unrequited and unrewarded.
"Here you are, your Sidecar and a Four Roses Black Label 80° for you, Mr. Sakurai," Mr. Yamashiro said, as he presented both drinks.
The colors in the cocktail glass were dull and succumbed to ennui, and there was nothing magical or enchanting about it. I blink vigorously a few times. Maybe it's my eyes.
"Are you not going to have any?" he asked. His inquisitive eyes had noticed my hesitation yet again.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about something."
I pick up the glass and let the drink touch my lips and fill my nostrils. Anticipation had met disappointment. Lackluster and boring, my body refused to have any more. I pursed my lips and put the glass down.
I knew I hated cognac.
Juri was right. It was 'just' a drink.
"Not what you expected?" He put his bourbon down and turned toward me in his seat.
I shook my head in disbelief. "I guess I don't like cognac after all."
Picking up my cocktail glass, he observed the swirling colors and put his nose to the rim to inhale the aromas. He put the drink back on the counter and stood up.
"Mr. Yamashiro? I'm coming in."
My eyes followed him as he made his way to the other side of the counter, rolled up his sleeves again, and opened a bottle of the same cognac Mr. Yamashiro had used.
A punch of cognac tickled my nostrils as the citrus scents fluttered about.
There it is.
But, why?
I just watched Mr. Yamashiro make me the exact same thing. Why is it so different? Why do I long for this one? Why does my whole body desire it?
"Your Sidecar, Miss Kokoro." The same gentle smile from that unforgettable night lit his face. In a dainty cocktail glass danced a myriad of aromas, the topaz-colored elixir camouflaging in and out of the warm lighting of the room and the amber of the countertop.
Just like that night. This was it. This was what I wanted.
I remembered it perfectly. The flavors once again enraptured my body as the orange liqueur enveloped my tongue. Cognac exhaled through my nostrils in delight, lemon juice still tickling my lips.
"Mmmmm..." It was all I could say.
His eyes seemed to say, “I’m glad you like it.” Everything was just like that night. The magic elixir danced in my mouth, celebrating the end of my sober streak.
"But..."
"Why is it different?" he finished my sentence.
Nodding, I am amazed yet again at his observational skills and his mysterious ability to know what I was thinking. Just then, Mr. Yamashiro headed back toward us after having tended to another customer. He immediately noticed that I had in my hand a drink that he didn't make.
"Was the Sidecar not to your liking, Miss Kokoro?"
Feeling awful and embarrassed, I tried my best to come up with an excuse. It was a futile effort.
"She may have imprinted on my Sidecar." 34 looked at me with a cryptic smile, then let out a short, hearty laugh as he looked at the bar owner. As if he sensed out the whole situation, Mr. Yamashiro gave a humbling look, then removed the drink he had made from the counter.
"You know, Miss Kokoro. A good drink is not merely a drink. It is an experience of the mind and body, a journey," Mr. Yamashiro stated. "There's more to a drink than how it's made. Have you ever wondered why it's his Sidecar you desire?"
His Sidecar? I hadn’t thought of it like that before. What made his drink so special? At the thought of him within earshot of this conversation, I shake my head, not knowing how to answer such a prodding question.
"Because compatibility is everything," 34 suddenly interjected.
"Exactly so," Mr. Yamashiro nodded. "He must know something about you that I do not. Mixing drinks is an art. You can't simply follow a recipe for a cocktail and expect the recipient to enjoy it. In the drink is a mix of emotions, carefully selected thoughts to provoke and inquire the state of the imbiber's heart. When there's compatibility, there is emotional release. That's what makes a certain drink so magical, like a drug that calls to you."
Mr. Yamashiro had just defined the Sidecar in one, succinct insight, and the memories from that night came crashing down like a wave. I now understood why it had to be his. From the first meeting, he had somehow understood that closure is what I needed, and that a cognac cocktail was the proper neutralizer to silence the very thing that had once destroyed me. Those inquisitive eyes seemed to see through that which I tried to keep hidden. Yes, indeed, his was an addictive drug.
34 returned to his seat beside me and took another sip of his bourbon.
"Looks like no one else can satisfy you," he teased, his eyes still on his drink. His voice was low and raspy; it was getting late and there was a slight fatigue in his words.
Face burning with embarrassment, I take another sip of his Sidecar to keep my mouth busy.
"I used to work here," he changed the subject. "Mr. Yamashiro took me in as a young bartender when I didn't know much about the art. Hayato started working here the year I decided to become a nightclub host. My roots are here, so I try to visit often and say hi."
"...What?" It was information overload. I didn't even know where to start. Just then, Mr. Hayato walked out of the kitchen, dish in hand.
“Sakurai sempai, this is my latest creation. Could I get your input?” he smiled nervously. “Oh, Miss Kokoro. Please try some, too.”
The dish was bursting with vibrant colors and looked like a jewelry box that only showed up in fairytales. It was almost too pretty to eat.
“This is a tomato and peach terrine. Usually, a terrine is a meat dish. But, since we just got a fresh order of peaches from the local farm, I decided to get creative and make it with fruits,” Mr. Hayato explained.
I waited for 34 to take the first bite, but instead, glanced over and slid the plate in front of me.
“Ladies first,” he smiled. His chivalry was so natural and uncalculated that the recipient could do nothing else but accept it.
I took a bite and a smile broke loose.
“Wow…! Mr. Hayato, this is delicious! I didn’t think this combination would work, but the tomato doesn’t overwhelm the gentler flavors of the peach. I think you could put it on the menu. I know I’d order it!” I praised. Then, turning to 34, I passed the plate and gave him a big smile. “You have to try it.”
The corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly, his brown eyes scanning my expression.
“I’ve never seen you so animated,” he said as he picked up his fork. “You didn’t react like this when I made you your Sidecar.”
…Wait, is he jealous?
As if to tease me, he looked at the drink on the counter and called me by a nickname he knew would bring the blood to my cheeks.
"By the way, how is that Sidecar, Miss 33?"
That's unfair.
Every conversation with him so far has gone his way.
“First of all, ‘Mr. Sakurai’, I didn’t even know your name until just moments ago, and that wasn’t because you introduced yourself to me, no. It’s because someone else did.”
“Neither did you.”
He reminded that had it not been for Juri, he wouldn’t have known my name, either.
Great. Foot in mouth. Again.
He smiled gently. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself.”
“I-It’s fine…” I didn’t expect an apology. Now, I felt rude for accusing him.
“I’m Sakurai Sho. I go by ‘Sho’ at the host club.”
“…I’m Nijishima Kokoro.” It’s social etiquette to return a proper introduction with my own, after all. Sakurai Sho. I repeated his name in my head.
Unfazed, he repeated his question. “How is that Sidecar, Miss 33?”
Well, that self-introduction didn’t serve its purpose.
Still, if there was one thing I couldn’t deny, it was the drink. "It's incredible," I sigh. "I'm afraid no other will do."
"Then, don't lust after anyone else’s," he responded plainly. Then, leaning in closer as if to whisper a secret, he said in a low, airy voice, "Not like you'll be able to, anyway."
His cologne swept across my nose as his voice boomed in my ears. I was caught in his trap and the scary part was, I found myself not wanting to break free. His mystery had a firm grip on me.
Then, all of a sudden, a strange thought crossed my mind. It slipped out of my lips before I could stop the words.
"Why did you quit your job as a bartender?"
"Hm?" He picked up his glass, swirled it in his hand, then finished the last bit of his drink. "It's not important."
For a split second, he cast his eyes downward and in that moment, I could sense a deep pain within.
Just who is this man?
I still knew nothing about him.
“I’m going to head to the restroom really quick. I’ll walk you home after that, so stay put,” he ordered.
Left alone, I stared at the empty cocktail glass. Every sip was divine, every exhale full of energy, every moment so unforgettable. Caught in its spell, I closed my eyes and let the potion take control of my thoughts. It evoked thoughts foreign to me, indecent thoughts of lust and passion, of carnal pleasures. I take a deep inhale to rationalize and negate these prurient cravings, but the aphrodisiac had already seized my mind.
“Miss Kokoro?” Mr. Hayato called. Like being snapped awake after hypnosis, I shake my head and come back to my senses.
“Yes? Sorry, I was deep in thought.”
“Thanks for your input earlier. I’ll talk to the owner about adding it to our seasonal menu,” he grinned.
“Oh, that. I was just being honest; it really was delightful. Thanks for letting me try some.”
“So, how do you know Sakurai sempai?” he asked, genuine curiosity written on his face.
“Oh, uh…” Come on, Kokoro. You can’t possibly tell him we met at his host club.
“Let me guess: the host club?” His eyes glittered at the possibility that he may be right.
“…How did you know?” I asked, impressed and slightly embarrassed that he was on point.
Mr. Hayato, now victorious, looked even more excited. “Sakurai sempai is a great guesser, isn’t he? He has psychic powers or something. I admire and look up to him, so I’ve been trying to get better at guessing things about people.”
I admired his determination. “Well, I think you’re well on your way,” I commended.
“But this is big news.” Mr. Hayato leaned on the bar counter, bewildered look on his face.
“What is?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen Sakurai sempai with a woman.”
I giggle at his naivety. “Mr. Hayato. He’s a nightclub host. He’s always with at least one woman.”
“That’s different. Work is work. Sakurai sempai doesn’t date any of his clients.”
“D-Date?! Oh, n-no, no. This isn’t a date.” Flustered, I stutter my way through the sentences.
“But I know you’re someone special,” Mr. Hayato affirmed. “I’ve never seen him with a woman outside of business.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard,” I reply. How could a man like that not have his pick among the sea of women lined up out his door?
“I may not be as skilled a guesser as Sakurai sempai, but- ” Footsteps interrupt the conversation.
“You two better be saying good things about me.” 34 returned to his seat, curious eyes looking into mine.
“I like her,” Mr. Hayato smiled at 34.
He chuckles. “Me, too.”
“Oh, I see,” I nod. “This is how you talk to all your female clients. Pretty impressive.”
You’re not going to trick me.
Flashing his mysterious smile again, he put his forefinger on his lips, caressing them seductively.
“What makes you think that?”
Just who is this man?
I could feel the indecent thoughts cloud my judgment again.
And this time, I knew I couldn’t blame it on his drink.
Rating: R for whole series, PG-13 for Ch.3 (suggestive language)
Beta: kyraensui & lianne29 (Thank you, ladies!)
Genre: Romance, Drama
Word count: 2,601
Plot: A 33-year-old singleton, Nijishima Kokoro, finds herself at a host club where she meets the club's most popular host, Sakurai Sho. The encounter propels Kokoro to explore a different kind of love as Sho helps Kokoro discover herself.
NOTE: This story reads like a shoujo manga--it is written in a fictitious first-person narrative where the reader is the protagonist. Please proceed with caution if you are uncomfortable with JE members having relationships with fictitious female characters (even if that female is you!).
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter Three: Imitations and Gimmicks
"Where are we going?"
It was the third time tonight that I had let him make decisions for me and this time, I didn't have a clue where I would be spending the next few hours.
"You'll know in a bit," he said over his shoulder.
Wanna bet?
At this point, I was pretty sure I knew nothing about what the rest of the night would bring.
Next to a park was a narrow path, a downhill walkway that was only wide enough for one person to pass at any given time. If another person were to come up toward us, we would have to turn and walk sideways. I wasn't quite sure why I continued to follow him. In hindsight, it's been like this since I met him. I didn't want the Sidecar he made me. Or at least, I thought I didn't. I didn't need him to walk me home. Or at least, I thought I didn't. I don't need him to keep me company after running into Ryota. Or at least, I thought I didn't.
At the end of the path was a quaint bar, a hideaway of sorts, void of any white noise and distractions of the world.
"After you, Miss Kokoro." He opened the door and waited for me to walk in first.
“Good evening. Ah! Mr. Sakurai!" An older man, perhaps in his late 50s, gave a little bow as he dried off some wine glasses. A younger man, mid-20s at most, heard the greeting and popped his head out from the kitchen.
"Sakurai sempai! It's been a while!" Flashing a perfect smile, he wiped his hands on his apron and bowed politely.
34 is “Mr. Sakurai”...?
At the abrupt knowledge of his real name, my widened eyes looked straight at the subject of conversation.
"Mr. Yamashiro. Hayato. Long time, no see. This is Miss Kokoro."
The older man glanced over at me, gave a polite smile, and looked back at 34.
"Miss Kokoro, it's a pleasure to meet you. Have a seat."
Like clockwork, 34 pulled out the seat nearest me and gestured for me to sit.
He's gotten a lot of practice pampering women like this, I bet.
No wonder he's a successful host.
Mr. Hayato grinned and gave me a bow before heading back into the kitchen.
"What would you like to drink, Miss Kokoro?" Mr. Yamashiro asked.
"Oh, um... a Sidecar, please." It was the first cognac cocktail I willing ordered for myself in my entire life.
"Looks like that really left an impression on you," 34 smiled.
You have no idea.
It consumes my every thought.
I'm addicted to it and my friends think I'm nuts.
Of course I couldn't say that.
"Yes, quite..."
" I'll have a bourbon, neat, in a traditional Glencairn. Your recommendation.”
"You got it."
I anticipated the punch of cognac to tickle my nostrils and for the citrus scents to flutter about. I ordered the same drink as the one he had made me that night, after all. My body in withdrawal, it longed for the scent. And yet, the yearning was unrequited and unrewarded.
"Here you are, your Sidecar and a Four Roses Black Label 80° for you, Mr. Sakurai," Mr. Yamashiro said, as he presented both drinks.
The colors in the cocktail glass were dull and succumbed to ennui, and there was nothing magical or enchanting about it. I blink vigorously a few times. Maybe it's my eyes.
"Are you not going to have any?" he asked. His inquisitive eyes had noticed my hesitation yet again.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about something."
I pick up the glass and let the drink touch my lips and fill my nostrils. Anticipation had met disappointment. Lackluster and boring, my body refused to have any more. I pursed my lips and put the glass down.
I knew I hated cognac.
Juri was right. It was 'just' a drink.
"Not what you expected?" He put his bourbon down and turned toward me in his seat.
I shook my head in disbelief. "I guess I don't like cognac after all."
Picking up my cocktail glass, he observed the swirling colors and put his nose to the rim to inhale the aromas. He put the drink back on the counter and stood up.
"Mr. Yamashiro? I'm coming in."
My eyes followed him as he made his way to the other side of the counter, rolled up his sleeves again, and opened a bottle of the same cognac Mr. Yamashiro had used.
A punch of cognac tickled my nostrils as the citrus scents fluttered about.
There it is.
But, why?
I just watched Mr. Yamashiro make me the exact same thing. Why is it so different? Why do I long for this one? Why does my whole body desire it?
"Your Sidecar, Miss Kokoro." The same gentle smile from that unforgettable night lit his face. In a dainty cocktail glass danced a myriad of aromas, the topaz-colored elixir camouflaging in and out of the warm lighting of the room and the amber of the countertop.
Just like that night. This was it. This was what I wanted.
I remembered it perfectly. The flavors once again enraptured my body as the orange liqueur enveloped my tongue. Cognac exhaled through my nostrils in delight, lemon juice still tickling my lips.
"Mmmmm..." It was all I could say.
His eyes seemed to say, “I’m glad you like it.” Everything was just like that night. The magic elixir danced in my mouth, celebrating the end of my sober streak.
"But..."
"Why is it different?" he finished my sentence.
Nodding, I am amazed yet again at his observational skills and his mysterious ability to know what I was thinking. Just then, Mr. Yamashiro headed back toward us after having tended to another customer. He immediately noticed that I had in my hand a drink that he didn't make.
"Was the Sidecar not to your liking, Miss Kokoro?"
Feeling awful and embarrassed, I tried my best to come up with an excuse. It was a futile effort.
"She may have imprinted on my Sidecar." 34 looked at me with a cryptic smile, then let out a short, hearty laugh as he looked at the bar owner. As if he sensed out the whole situation, Mr. Yamashiro gave a humbling look, then removed the drink he had made from the counter.
"You know, Miss Kokoro. A good drink is not merely a drink. It is an experience of the mind and body, a journey," Mr. Yamashiro stated. "There's more to a drink than how it's made. Have you ever wondered why it's his Sidecar you desire?"
His Sidecar? I hadn’t thought of it like that before. What made his drink so special? At the thought of him within earshot of this conversation, I shake my head, not knowing how to answer such a prodding question.
"Because compatibility is everything," 34 suddenly interjected.
"Exactly so," Mr. Yamashiro nodded. "He must know something about you that I do not. Mixing drinks is an art. You can't simply follow a recipe for a cocktail and expect the recipient to enjoy it. In the drink is a mix of emotions, carefully selected thoughts to provoke and inquire the state of the imbiber's heart. When there's compatibility, there is emotional release. That's what makes a certain drink so magical, like a drug that calls to you."
Mr. Yamashiro had just defined the Sidecar in one, succinct insight, and the memories from that night came crashing down like a wave. I now understood why it had to be his. From the first meeting, he had somehow understood that closure is what I needed, and that a cognac cocktail was the proper neutralizer to silence the very thing that had once destroyed me. Those inquisitive eyes seemed to see through that which I tried to keep hidden. Yes, indeed, his was an addictive drug.
34 returned to his seat beside me and took another sip of his bourbon.
"Looks like no one else can satisfy you," he teased, his eyes still on his drink. His voice was low and raspy; it was getting late and there was a slight fatigue in his words.
Face burning with embarrassment, I take another sip of his Sidecar to keep my mouth busy.
"I used to work here," he changed the subject. "Mr. Yamashiro took me in as a young bartender when I didn't know much about the art. Hayato started working here the year I decided to become a nightclub host. My roots are here, so I try to visit often and say hi."
"...What?" It was information overload. I didn't even know where to start. Just then, Mr. Hayato walked out of the kitchen, dish in hand.
“Sakurai sempai, this is my latest creation. Could I get your input?” he smiled nervously. “Oh, Miss Kokoro. Please try some, too.”
The dish was bursting with vibrant colors and looked like a jewelry box that only showed up in fairytales. It was almost too pretty to eat.
“This is a tomato and peach terrine. Usually, a terrine is a meat dish. But, since we just got a fresh order of peaches from the local farm, I decided to get creative and make it with fruits,” Mr. Hayato explained.
I waited for 34 to take the first bite, but instead, glanced over and slid the plate in front of me.
“Ladies first,” he smiled. His chivalry was so natural and uncalculated that the recipient could do nothing else but accept it.
I took a bite and a smile broke loose.
“Wow…! Mr. Hayato, this is delicious! I didn’t think this combination would work, but the tomato doesn’t overwhelm the gentler flavors of the peach. I think you could put it on the menu. I know I’d order it!” I praised. Then, turning to 34, I passed the plate and gave him a big smile. “You have to try it.”
The corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly, his brown eyes scanning my expression.
“I’ve never seen you so animated,” he said as he picked up his fork. “You didn’t react like this when I made you your Sidecar.”
…Wait, is he jealous?
As if to tease me, he looked at the drink on the counter and called me by a nickname he knew would bring the blood to my cheeks.
"By the way, how is that Sidecar, Miss 33?"
That's unfair.
Every conversation with him so far has gone his way.
“First of all, ‘Mr. Sakurai’, I didn’t even know your name until just moments ago, and that wasn’t because you introduced yourself to me, no. It’s because someone else did.”
“Neither did you.”
He reminded that had it not been for Juri, he wouldn’t have known my name, either.
Great. Foot in mouth. Again.
He smiled gently. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself.”
“I-It’s fine…” I didn’t expect an apology. Now, I felt rude for accusing him.
“I’m Sakurai Sho. I go by ‘Sho’ at the host club.”
“…I’m Nijishima Kokoro.” It’s social etiquette to return a proper introduction with my own, after all. Sakurai Sho. I repeated his name in my head.
Unfazed, he repeated his question. “How is that Sidecar, Miss 33?”
Well, that self-introduction didn’t serve its purpose.
Still, if there was one thing I couldn’t deny, it was the drink. "It's incredible," I sigh. "I'm afraid no other will do."
"Then, don't lust after anyone else’s," he responded plainly. Then, leaning in closer as if to whisper a secret, he said in a low, airy voice, "Not like you'll be able to, anyway."
His cologne swept across my nose as his voice boomed in my ears. I was caught in his trap and the scary part was, I found myself not wanting to break free. His mystery had a firm grip on me.
Then, all of a sudden, a strange thought crossed my mind. It slipped out of my lips before I could stop the words.
"Why did you quit your job as a bartender?"
"Hm?" He picked up his glass, swirled it in his hand, then finished the last bit of his drink. "It's not important."
For a split second, he cast his eyes downward and in that moment, I could sense a deep pain within.
Just who is this man?
I still knew nothing about him.
“I’m going to head to the restroom really quick. I’ll walk you home after that, so stay put,” he ordered.
Left alone, I stared at the empty cocktail glass. Every sip was divine, every exhale full of energy, every moment so unforgettable. Caught in its spell, I closed my eyes and let the potion take control of my thoughts. It evoked thoughts foreign to me, indecent thoughts of lust and passion, of carnal pleasures. I take a deep inhale to rationalize and negate these prurient cravings, but the aphrodisiac had already seized my mind.
“Miss Kokoro?” Mr. Hayato called. Like being snapped awake after hypnosis, I shake my head and come back to my senses.
“Yes? Sorry, I was deep in thought.”
“Thanks for your input earlier. I’ll talk to the owner about adding it to our seasonal menu,” he grinned.
“Oh, that. I was just being honest; it really was delightful. Thanks for letting me try some.”
“So, how do you know Sakurai sempai?” he asked, genuine curiosity written on his face.
“Oh, uh…” Come on, Kokoro. You can’t possibly tell him we met at his host club.
“Let me guess: the host club?” His eyes glittered at the possibility that he may be right.
“…How did you know?” I asked, impressed and slightly embarrassed that he was on point.
Mr. Hayato, now victorious, looked even more excited. “Sakurai sempai is a great guesser, isn’t he? He has psychic powers or something. I admire and look up to him, so I’ve been trying to get better at guessing things about people.”
I admired his determination. “Well, I think you’re well on your way,” I commended.
“But this is big news.” Mr. Hayato leaned on the bar counter, bewildered look on his face.
“What is?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen Sakurai sempai with a woman.”
I giggle at his naivety. “Mr. Hayato. He’s a nightclub host. He’s always with at least one woman.”
“That’s different. Work is work. Sakurai sempai doesn’t date any of his clients.”
“D-Date?! Oh, n-no, no. This isn’t a date.” Flustered, I stutter my way through the sentences.
“But I know you’re someone special,” Mr. Hayato affirmed. “I’ve never seen him with a woman outside of business.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard,” I reply. How could a man like that not have his pick among the sea of women lined up out his door?
“I may not be as skilled a guesser as Sakurai sempai, but- ” Footsteps interrupt the conversation.
“You two better be saying good things about me.” 34 returned to his seat, curious eyes looking into mine.
“I like her,” Mr. Hayato smiled at 34.
He chuckles. “Me, too.”
“Oh, I see,” I nod. “This is how you talk to all your female clients. Pretty impressive.”
You’re not going to trick me.
Flashing his mysterious smile again, he put his forefinger on his lips, caressing them seductively.
“What makes you think that?”
Just who is this man?
I could feel the indecent thoughts cloud my judgment again.
And this time, I knew I couldn’t blame it on his drink.