Chapter 5 #3
“Hm.” Young-gi retreats. I feel a chill despite the warm sun shining all over his perfect lawn, in front of his perfect mansion, in his perfect life. “You could benefit from some practice. Kira is quite good; I’m sure she’ll teach you.”
The rest of the world returns to my awareness like a car crash of sound and sight. My pinhole vision expands and I remember who and where and when I am.
“I didn’t ask you for advice,” I say, attempting to keep my voice polite, but it comes out stiff and defensive.
“Hm,” he hums again, assessing me. “Kira is too good to be dating sore losers, or boys who don’t know how to be humble.”
It takes me a second of blinking at him in confusion to understand what he means by that.
He thinks I’m embarrassed about the arrow missing the target?
The thought is so ridiculous that I laugh, a short bark of dark amusement that maybe reveals more of my inner ugliness than I want.
He stares at me, then tilts his head and furrows his brow like he just realized he skipped an important page in a book.
I stare back, trying to look bored. Trying to be Tommy Claremont, instead of just Tommy.
No interesting pages here, just a blank book of nothing.
“Uncle Young-gi?” Kira joins us, only now realizing he’s here. She hesitantly comes to my side and takes my hand. The movement is stiff, a little awkward, but once I gently squeeze her fingers and smile down at her, she relaxes.
“How’d you do with the targets?” I ask her, dropping my useless bow to the ground.
Thanks to the meddling of Young-gi, I’ve lost my chance to hit Brian.
While Young-gi was distracting me, the dickwad went over to the drink tables, and it would be wildly improbable for my arrow to fire in that direction by mistake.
Besides, Young-gi just proved I probably couldn’t hit the side of a barn on purpose, let alone hit a moving person while making it look like an accident.
“She’s killer with a bow,” Lexie brags on behalf of her friend, jumping around me and pushing on my shoulders like she wants to use me to vault into the air.
Then doing the same to Kira, who stumbles into me.
I catch her easily and help her find her balance, placing an absent-minded kiss on her head like she’s a baby sister that I just helped up on the playground.
“I’m passable with a bow.” Kira brushes the compliment away, batting at Lexie’s hands, but I don’t allow it.
“No, no, come on, darling,” I urge her. “Show off for me, yeah? I bet you’re brilliant at it, just like you’re brilliant at most things.”
Her cheeks flame red and I grin at her. Lexie wolf whistles at me and fans her face with her hand, which makes me roll my eyes and ruffle her hair.
“Uncle Young-gi, are you going to practice with us?” Kira asks hopefully.
“I don’t have much time. I only came out here because I wanted to see you do better than everyone else,” he says. His tone is matter-of-fact, but there is a hint, just a tiny hint, of a smile at the corner of his lips.
Is that his version of a joke? Hot. Wait, I mean… Pathetic. Yeah, pathetic.
“I have some business to attend to, but I had a spare moment between calls. I’d like to see you show off your progress, I know you’ve been practicing–”
The unmistakable sound of a phone ringing in his pocket interrupts him. Young-gi pulls it out with a sigh, checks the caller ID, and pats Kira on the head. “Speaking of business, I should take this. Blow them all out of the water, show them what us bastards are capable of.”
He spins on his heel and leaves, apparently unaware of the way she flinches. I scowl at his back, because even though I thought that was a really cool line, Kira doesn’t like that word.
“It’s okay Kira,” Lexie whispers to her. “You know he meant it in a good way.”
“Yeah,” Kira toys with her hair self-consciously. “I know.”
************
Young-gi
I’m staring at my hand as I sit in my office. I should be reading the proposals sent to me by my acquisitions department, but instead I’m just… sitting here.
Tommy is turning out to be an interesting puzzle. I’ve never liked puzzles.
His defense of Kira last night, coupled with the way he softens for her like ice melting in the sun, makes me think his affection for her might truly be genuine.
And if so, then perhaps he’s not a bad choice for her, after all.
He’s willing to defend her honor, that much is obvious judging by how he put that drunk idiot on the ground for insulting her.
The memory of what else happened in the library last night floods my mind, like it was waiting for the chance to break past my mental walls.
The way he fidgeted and squirmed but still sat there, silent and waiting for my permission to leave.
He’d been on edge, uncomfortable, and by the end of it he was starting to sweat. But he’d sat there for so long, just letting me stare at him. He endured it, because I wanted him to.
I don’t know why I find that so… so…
So what, exactly?
I’m not sure. But I’ve been replaying the moment in my mind all night and into the morning, and I can’t pretend that it didn’t affect me somehow.
I think I liked it.
Why? I don’t know.
But I think… Yes, alright, I know I liked it. And that’s unusual for me.
So maybe going to him on the archery field had been something of a test–partially for him, partially for myself. Taking the chance to guide him, to instruct him, was an opportunity to see if what I was feeling–whatever nameless emotion is storming inside me–was just a fluke.
And now I’m sitting at my desk and staring at my hand. It twitches under my regard, the palm tingling. I’d rested it flat against his chest when I corrected his stance, and he didn’t pull away.
For a second, I thought there was heat between us.
I felt it. I felt him. I’d have bet any amount of money that he’d been as affected as I was.
But when I’d pulled away, he’d been cold, distant, and that laugh was tormented and wrong.
Something else was bothering him. Another layer to his mystery, another piece to his incomplete puzzle.
“Let it go,” I tell myself sternly. Tommy is a straight boy dating my niece, I shouldn’t have any fleeting feelings of heat with him, I shouldn’t be wondering–hoping?--if he feels it, too.
I curl my fingers into a fist and press it to the desk.
Why can I still feel his skin under my fingertips?
Why can I imagine him sitting in my office right now, squirming in a chair, letting me watch him while I worked?
The way he stubbornly tried not to look at me–as if ignoring me would make it all go away–even though he let me look all I wanted… Fuck. What’s wrong with me?
There’s something about the way he reacts.
How quickly he turns soft for Kira, then stiffens and bristles with everyone else, and–for some reason–the way he seems to defer to me while making it seem like he isn’t really deferring at all.
He listens even when he’s being sarcastic and trying to appear unthreatening.
There is something there. I just don’t know what yet.