Chapter 17
?
It’s all Japanese to me.
Alister
“This is…” The most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, second only to August herself. It’s color coded. There’s a color key. It’s a document, sure, but it’s a document if a document were a spreadsheet. Neat little rows of information. Crisp font. No flourishes.
“I know it’s not in a pretty binder, but all the pretty was December’s doing. My art of choice is text-based, less floral and collage. If it involves printing out photos on a teeny tiny machine, I’m out.”
Her art of choice is stunning.
Battling to settle my heart, I sit at the kitchen table after breakfast on this sunny Tuesday morning and force my attention to start at the beginning of the gift I have just been bestowed.
Preferred Physical Features.
I gulp.
Blond hair, light-colored eyes, tall, see Takumi Usui for reference.
Ah. Yes. Of course. Takumi Usui. The perfect, mischievous prince from Kaicho wa Maid-sama who can do anything flawlessly. He’s still topping charts as a favorite male lead to this day. So. No pressure or anything.
At the very least, she didn’t say Tamaki Suoh. Because blond is one thing, but textbook himbo is another.
Speaking of personality, I proceed into the next section and discover that Takumi Usui rears again—still perfect, still unattainable in every way. But, perhaps worse, sitting beside him is Kyouya Sata, the male lead from Wolf Girl and Black Prince.
Otherwise known as: a full-blown sadist.
My brow might twitch as it furrows, and I become starkly aware that August is hovering above me.
Pulling my gaze off her perfect male lead character sheet, I find fluttering lashes and expectant eyes. “Yes…?” I broach.
“They’re anime characters,” she clarifies, and it occurs to me that my unsettle must be coming off as confusion. How…convenient. Considering Dominic, unlike Ali, hasn’t seen an anime in his life.
“Ah,” I offer, then I pluck my phone from my pocket and do a web search for Kyouya Sata personality.
“Polite and kind to mask his true cold, manipulative, sadistic, and cynical personality.” Yep.
That’s exactly what I remember from when she recommended this show in her introduction email.
It was nestled snugly in between Soul Eater and some truly visceral comedy nonsense about clothing aliens trying to take over the world.
Sandwiched there, it stewed, unassuming.
So I watched it. And I’m not saying I was hooked, but…
I definitely enjoyed it more than a mentally stable individual might.
I glance back up at August. “Do I…want to look up the other characters?”
“Do you want to know whether or not you’re capable of being my perfect male lead?”
Bracing for unattainable standards, I exhale and type in Takumi Usui personality. Most of the adjectives associated with Usui are a little more palatable, but perverted alien doesn’t escape the summary, so I tap my finger to it before looking pointedly at August. “What am I to do with this?”
She tangles her fingers together behind her back.
“That’s just what the female lead calls him because of how he flirts with her.
Maybe focus on the other details.” She rests her nail against my phone.
“Steadfast and supportive. Unwavering affection. Relentless teasing.” Dreamily, she sighs.
“He’s my favorite. Mostly because of the incessant way he torments her. ”
That checks out.
I say, “Would you be willing to clarify Miyamura Izumi (dark side, specifically) or shall I rely on the internet again?” I have a feeling the internet would tell me that this character’s dark side is his secret side, but…
“He’s from Horimiya.” August brightens. “And there’s this one scene where he puts his foot on her head.”
Yep.
There it is.
That.
Of course she’s referring to, specifically, that.
“It’s so cute!” she continues, bubbly. “He freaks out when she looks up at him, but then she’s like wait, wait, wait.
It’s absolute nonsense, and it’s literally just a fluff, slice-of-life school anime but somehow its cuteness manages to make it anything but dull—even though they get together so early on.
Something adorable is always happening in every single episode without any forced drama or romantic stress.
The characters are written like soulmates.
And it’s perfect. And they’re perfect. It’s one of the only animes I know where you follow the couple while they’re together and it’s not boring. ”
If we’re being technical, all three of these male leads are from fluffy romcom school animes, so it’s clear she’s giving me a fighting chance. The fact she’s selected characters from shows that might just make the idea of a relationship in the real world tolerable must mean something.
She’s giving me access to the template for what happy but still interesting looks like.
And in case it wasn’t clear, it looks a heck of a lot like bullying, but it’s not like I didn’t already know that.
Which means…
My eyes drift back up to her physical preference section and lock on the word blond. I pin down my sigh.
This point of interest continues to be my largest flaw and the bane of my existence.
“Are you chickening out?” August asks.
“No.” I’m reading her trope list, which doesn’t include a single kiss, but has slow burn bolded and in the collection three times.
Ignoring that completely, I say, “Since boundaries don’t seem important to you, mind if I manipulate you into coming with me to the courthouse and applying for a marriage license in a few days? ”
She laughs. “Sure. If you can figure out how to make it happen without me realizing, like a true villain.”
That’s sure to be tricky. And expensive. But would it be possible? I’d probably need to do more research to find out. Maybe even call my lawyer to discuss potential ramifications.
“You’re actually considering it,” she says.
Bracing my elbow on the table, I rest my chin in my palm. “Obviously.”
Heat swells beneath her freckles. “You’d coerce me unwittingly into marriage?”
“If it’s possible, why not? You’ve just given me permission, and I think the sentiment aligns fairly well with the character descriptions you’ve outlined as your favorites.”
Pulling the chair beside me out, she sits down and scoots in. “And you wouldn’t have a single moral qualm about it?”
I hold her shining brown eyes. “Not a one. If you let it happen, it’s clearly because you want it to.”
She pillows her cheeks in her hands, leans against the table, and peers at me. “You keep exceeding my expectations.”
My heart skips a beat as hope rushes into it.
I pretend to play it cool and say, “Do I?”
She grins. “Your face has gone red.”
Wincing, I drag my still-healing knuckles to my cheek. “I’m afraid I can’t control that.”
“Good.” Her chilled fingers touch my hand and pull my cover away. She looks down at the scab I earned shortly after punching the guy who was harassing her at the lake and draws a featherlight caress over it. “You’re healing well.”
“Of course I am. I’m a vampire, after all.” Switching control, I grip her hand and lean in, cupping her cheek as I slip past her lips to kiss her throat. “One sip is all it would take… I’ll be all better.”
She swallows, shivering.
“Please, little saint?” I draw back, just enough to meet her eyes. “I’m starved. Just one taste of your lotus nectar…”
Half-lidded, she watches me, gaze shifting to my lips. Heart thundering, I swipe my thumb across hers, lean in, and—
The front door swinging open at that exact moment, I am convinced, is a paid actor.
My head drops as August regains lucidity, rakes in a breath, and looks over me, toward a gasping voice.
“No, no, no, no, no,” December declares. “Don’t even mind me!” She tromps through the house, drags a seat away from the kitchen table, and plops into it—staring at us. “Go on.” She flaps her fingers in a continue motion. “I’m not even here.”
Dryly, August pulls her hand from mine and looks at her best friend. “Is it ten already?”
Dark hair bouncing, December nods, offering her palms. “You may feed me now.”
“Hmmm…” August ponders. “I suppose I could.”
December’s eyes turn weepy. “No, please don’t punish me for barging in at the wrong time. I’ve been ever so good. All morning. At least!”
August taps a finger to her chin. “Well…maybe… Off to your enclosure, then.” She shoos her. “I’ll bring you your drugs in a moment.”
Jumping, December claps her hands and whirls. “Yay!” Skipping, she disappears down the hall and into the office-slash-guest-room-slash-casket-storage-area.
Forcing myself to sit up straight, I shift my attention back to the slip of precious paper offering me some slender amount of hope.
No boundaries. No rules. Her preferred type might mingle perfect with relentless, but I do wonder if I might be able to concoct a few tricks to manage a facade of perfection over my natural inclination for teasing her.
Standing, August says, “Sorry about the interrupted whatever-that-was-because-it-certainly-wouldn’t-have-been-a-kiss trope.
I invited her over to read the first half of my vampire story draft.
It’s tradition. If I make it halfway through a story, December gets to decide whether it lives or dies and offer insight on what she’d like to happen next.
She’s yet to condemn a single soul, and I’ve yet to listen to a single suggestion. ”
I smile in the understanding that we did almost kiss, and she almost let me. “Very well, sweet lotus. I’ll review the information you’ve benevolently provided and craft plots that might see to your heart’s swift undoing.”
Elated, August lingers. “Would you really do such a thing for me?”
“What wouldn’t I do for you, darling?” I peer up at her in time to see her push her hair over one red ear.
“You know,” she says, “it’s kind of stupid to sequester your plots to the weekends since we both seem to have flexible work schedules.”
“Are you challenging me to a duel of some kind as early as this evening, little saint?”
Her smile blossoms. “An evening duel? How dangerous. Vampires gain strength as the sun goes down.”
That is news to me. I arch a brow. “Perhaps it may be prudent of you to feed me alongside your friend, that I might more perfectly embrace this character I’ve been assigned.”
Her gaze drifts, but she shakes her head. “Nah. I like your interpretations the way they are, and you’ve already got plenty of content to catch up on. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you working your way through the rest of my stories.”
Whenever I finish one, I nudge it to the other side of its shelf, like an abacus. I find myself chuckling. “Yes, well. I suppose I should pace myself. It might be hard to go back to your older work when your new stories are sure to taste of me.”
She bites her lip.
I fix my gaze on it. “Tease me more, why don’t you? See what happens.”
“Ack.” She covers her face with her hands. “You’re too good at this. If you didn’t blush so easily, I’d assume you were a professional host club member.”
Like Tamaki Suoh from Ouran High School Host Club? No thanks.
From up the hall, a pitiful wailing rises. “Oh… I languish. I hunger. The night draws nigh. The stars go dark… Portgas D. Ace?” December gasps, tearfully. “Is that you? Is there a flame at the end of this tunnel?”
August snaps out of my spell and drops her hands, marching away from me, toward her friend. “That’s playing dirty.”
I agree. Mentioning a beloved character in One Piece that may or may not have perished too soon is playing a little bit dirty.
Skimming the page before me, though, I wonder if I can’t play dirtier…