"Yuki Sora, what again are you typing in that silly laptop of yours?", I was startled to hear the irritated baritone voice of my best friend, Jiro Takeshi.
I turned my head and bumped into his chest. I immediately closed my laptop without saving and smiled innocently at him.
"Jiro, when did you arrive?" His eyes, the color of molten gold locked with mine, and I felt so elated, just by being close to him like this.
He grinned, bearing the perfect teeth that go perfectly with his chiseled jaw and the raven hair he tied up on a ponytail. He was breathtaking.
"Just now," he said, looking at me with what I have always hoped to be fondness on his eyes, or was just that wishful thinking too?
"Here," he held up a box of white Toblerone in front of me.
"Arigato gozaimasu," I thanked him and smiled wholeheartedly.
"You sure are easy to please, aren't you?" He asked, trying to irritate me, or maybe that's just how he is.
"Yes," I nodded obediently as I snatched away the box of Toblerone.
"Anyway, is that your novel you were typing earlier?" He asked, seating across from me, with his legs wide apart. He was cheeky.
"It's a secret, I don't want to answer that," I told him, puffing my cheeks trying to make a cute face he likes.
"Silly baka, when are you ever going to show me, huh?" He frowned, and my eyes shifted to his thick beautiful eyebrows and his aristocratic nose that will no doubt earn him the most handsome man of the century title.
"When I become famous," I told him, opening the chocolate wrapper and taking a bite.
"Haha, when you become famous. You can easily forget me when that happens, so you better show me now," he insisted, he has been trying to read my manuscript but I have successfully hidden it from him up to now.
"Besides, won't my review matter? Maybe some of my fans will become yours too, just by you being associated with me," he tried to point out. The evil grin ever-present on his handsome face makes me silently swoon.
"Actually being associated with you will be the death of me. Your fans are all just women trying to sack and bag you for marriage," I told him all the while satisfying my eyes with the vision of him sitting comfortably in a chair that is just inches away from mine.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" He asked, confusion registered on his handsome face.
"Well, it's true. Whether you recognize that or not is an entirely different story. In the eyes of the female population, you are a golden catch. The twenty-eight-year-old only son of an old rich family who has managed to establish a name for himself. The painter whose emotions can be felt in every canvass, the man behind several museums and highly successful exhibits," I tried to reason with the unreasonable man in front of me as he tried to wiggle out of the truth.
"Wow, you sound like one of them now. Have you forgotten my unique sense of style and highly devious good looks?" He laughed, his deep manly voice echoed through the room.
"Well, that too. But don't you think you are being too proud by adding that?" I asked him in what I hope sounded like a hostile voice.
Just then, a throw pillow smacked my face, the daredevil threw it himself.
"What was that for?" I asked, perplexed and angry.
"For being weird," he said, as he walked slowly towards me.
"No, you don't!" I said as I backed away from him, leaving my bedside table and trying to jump across the room.
But his large arms found me and started to tickle, this is my weakness and he knew that.
The electric shock that came from the sudden contact of our skin was unexpectedly divine, I know it will be there but it always felt so much more each time.
I fell backward and my back landed on the bed, our faces inches away from each other.
"Jiro," I whispered his name like a prayer and a plea.
His eyes traveled to my lips, as his groin pressed painfully on my skirt.
Will my eyeglasses fall off if he kisses me? I wondered as I looked at those lips painted by the gods. Luscious and waiting to be savored.
I tried to reason with my body but all I can think of right now is Jiro. No, we tumbled so many times before. But now, felt different. It feels mature, scary, exciting.
Now feels like the electric currents won't stop no matter what I do. "Please Jiro," I don't even know what I was asking for.
But Jiro... Maybe Jiro understood as his lips went near mine. Our lips brushed slightly, but just like a mad man who went without food for a week, he started claiming my lips like he needed to do it to survive.
I kissed him back, though I don't know if it was proper. No, it doesn't feel proper. But it doesn't feel wrong either. It felt perfect like he was perfect.
Our lips started biting, nibbling each other. I wondered if I was doing it right when he started to whisper, "Perfect," like he was commending me for a job well done.
"Jiro," I tugged on his collar, the black polo shirt being nothing but a hindrance to me at this time.
I started to sound like a lunatic, or like a cat slowly purring from her master's touch. "Jiro," I whispered his name not knowing what to add, what to say, no not knowing anything else. Except, that I want him.
I wanted him ever since before I know what wanting someone means. I wanted him more than I wanted my novels to succeed. I wanted him more than anything in my life. My entire life, I have always wanted Jiro.
And when I heard my voice pleading for his mercy, I finally admitted to him too... "I want you, Jiro."