Chapter 2 #2
Introductions go around. Tyler and Ethan already know the guys from frat events. Haru, however, becomes increasingly formal with each introduction, especially when Jamal sits directly across from him.
"It is most pleasurable to make your acquaintance," he tells Jamal, then immediately looks mortified at his word choice.
"You too, man," Jamal says easily. "You're the exchange student from Japan, right? I've seen you at the house."
"Yes. Japan. That is correct. I am from there," Haru manages, then falls silent, staring intently at his salad.
DeShawn's already dominating the conversation, typical. Devon cracks another joke, and everyone laughs. The other guys are doing their usual thing, but I'm more interested in watching Jamal actually trying to include Haru in the conversation.
Most quarterbacks I know would ignore the awkward exchange student, but Jamal keeps asking questions, genuinely interested. And Haru's vocabulary is getting more complex by the minute; he's nervous as fuck. Poor guy sounds like he swallowed a thesaurus.
"So, Haru," Jamal says during a lull, "what sports did you play back in Japan?"
"I participated in competitive archery for six years," Haru answers, then adds with unexpected confidence, "I was prefectural champion in my age division."
"No way!" Jamal leans forward, genuinely interested. "That's badass."
The blush returns to Haru's cheeks. "It is merely a matter of discipline and focus."
"Still cool," Jamal insists. "You should show me sometime."
"I would be honoured to demonstrate the techniques," Haru replies, a smile breaking through his nervousness.
When the football guys eventually head out for their afternoon classes, Tyler, Ethan, and I immediately turn to Haru with knowing grins.
"So," Tyler drawls, "adequate seating for additional persons, huh?"
"Most pleasurable to make your acquaintance," Ethan mimics, barely containing his laughter.
"I do not appreciate this mockery," Haru says with all the dignity he can muster. "English is my second language."
"Your English is perfect and you know it," I counter. "But your game needs serious work."
"I have no idea what game you are referring to," Haru says primly, then continues on in rapid Japanese that I'm pretty sure isn't complimentary.
"Translation?" Tyler asks.
"He told us to mind our own romantic business in extremely polite Japanese," I guess.
Haru looks surprised. "Your intuitive abilities are most disconcerting, Gavin-san."
"Just doing what I do," I tap my temple. "Reading people is my superpower."
"And yet," Ethan says thoughtfully, "you're oblivious when that cute guy from your Econ class stares at you."
"What?" My head snaps up. "Who?"
"Dark hair, always wears those blue sweaters," Ethan continues. "He practically drills holes in the back of your head with his eyes."
"I haven't noticed," I lie, even as my heart rate picks up. I've absolutely noticed. I didn't think anyone else had.
Tyler studies me with narrowed eyes. "Interesting reaction there, GR."
"Don't know what you're talking about," I say, gathering my trash with sudden intensity. "Anyway, I've got class in fifteen."
"As do I," Haru says, clearly grateful for the escape. "Advanced Economics awaits."
As we leave the dining hall, Haru steps beside me. "Gavin-san," he says quietly, "may I make an observation?"
"Go for it."
"You possess remarkable insight into others' emotional states and interpersonal dynamics."
"Thanks?"
"However," he continues, "you apply considerably less of this analytical ability to yourself."
I stop walking, startled by his perception. "What do you mean?"
"In psychology, is there not a concept about the professional who cannot diagnose themselves?"
"Physician, heal thyself," I murmur. "Yeah, that's a thing."
Haru adjusts his glasses. "Perhaps what you seek regarding your personal identity questions requires an external perspective."
"Are you saying I need someone else to help me figure out if I'm gay, bi, or something else?" I ask, lowering my voice even though no one's around.
"I am merely suggesting that self-discovery sometimes benefits from dialogue," Haru replies diplomatically. "As you assist others in understanding behaviour, perhaps someone could assist you in understanding yourself."
With that unexpectedly profound statement, he bows slightly and heads off toward his class, leaving me standing there with my mind racing.
The thing is, he's right. I can read anyone, except myself. I can pinpoint Haru's crush on Jamal from fifty yards, diagnose DeShawn's narcissism over a fifteen-minute lunch, and spot Tyler's happiness like it's written in neon.
But my own feelings? They're a jumbled mess I can't seem to untangle.
Well, shit, He's right. I'm kinda a mess
As I walk to my Psychology seminar, I wonder what it would be like to have someone help me figure myself out. Someone who could look at me objectively and say, "Here's what you're feeling. Here's what it means."
The irony doesn't escape me: a Psych major who needs someone else to explain his own mind to him.
Maybe Haru's right. Maybe what I need is a guide, someone to teach me how to be whatever it is that I am.
I shake my head, laughing at myself. How would that even work? "Excuse me, can you teach me how to be gay?"
Still smiling at the ridiculous thought, I push open the door to my classroom. Yeah, right. "Hi, please teach me how to be gay." That'll be the day.