13. He Kissed Me Back
He Kissed Me Back
MAX
"No, no, no." Haru's shaking his head, standing in front of my closet like he's conducting a military inspection. "This will not be sufficient for tonight's objectives."
JP snorts from where he's sprawling on my bed. "Objectives?"
"Max requires appropriate attire for tonight." Haru's pulling out shirts, examining them intently. "This event has potential, yes?"
"It's robo-wrestlers," I say, but my stomach's doing that fluttery thing it does when I'm nervous. "And probably food after, with the team."
"With a handsome artist who shares your interests," Elliot adds quietly from the desk chair. He's got his legs pulled up, chin resting on his knees, watching the proceedings with mild amusement. "It'll be good to get out. All of you."
Fair point. Forrest builds moving sculptural pieces with actual robotics — art that functions like engineering.
Del vouched for him being a good guy. We've been texting for weeks, and he's funny and smart and genuinely interested in what I build, and…
And he's not Leo. I shove that thought down.
Irrelevant. Tonight is robots and good company, and I'm allowed to just enjoy that.
"Try this." Haru thrusts a blue shirt at me. I pull off my current shirt and tug on the blue one.
"Hmm." Haru tilts his head. "Acceptable but not optimal. Next." Three shirts later, I'm standing in front of my mirror in an old purple tee that I forgot I even owned. It's got three buttons at the neck, and it's—
"Oh, that's tight," JP observes.
"I used to be even smaller," I say, tugging at the hem. It hugs my chest and arms in a way that's definitely not how it fit two years ago. "Should I—"
"No!" Haru actually grabs my arm before I can pull it off. "This is perfect. This is—" He searches for the word. "Action-ready."
Elliot makes a choking sound that might be a laugh. "Action-ready?" I repeat.
"For making a strong impression," Haru says seriously. "You appear very handsome. The color complements your hair beautifully, and the fit displays your physique to advantage."
JP's grinning now. "He's not wrong. Pair that with those black skinny jeans, and you're gonna look edible!"
"Edible," I echo, because my brain's having trouble processing Haru's formal English combined with JP's bluntness.
"Sexually appealing," Haru clarifies, as if that helps. "You will make an excellent impression."
"Oh my goodness." But I'm changing into the black jeans anyway because…
well, they're right. The purple shirt with the black jeans actually looks good.
Really good. The jeans show off my ass, thank you, robotics lab stairs, and the shirt makes my shoulders look broader, which, with my skinny body, that's saying something.
I look like I'm trying. Which I am. Trying to get out of my own head and actually enjoy an evening for once. I’m not thinking of dating Forrest. He’s just a nice guy.
“Perfect!" Haru claps his hands together.
"You will make an excellent impression." He says it with the careful precision of someone who learned English from textbooks.
"I'm so proud of you," JP says, grinning. "Getting out there. Meeting people."
"Speaking of which." Haru turns those big eyes on JP. "What about you? When is it your turn?" The room goes quiet. JP's smile falters, just for a second.
"I'm…" JP stops. Starts again. "I'm not sure about myself yet." Elliot's watching him carefully. So am I. There's weight in those words that wasn't there a second ago. JP sits up properly, hands clasped between his knees. "I want to find someone. I'm lonely." His voice drops. "But I'm nervous."
Haru moves immediately, settling on the bed beside him. Elliot follows, the three of them shoulder-to-shoulder. I'm still standing by the mirror, holding the shirt I took off, watching my friend struggle with something heavy.
"My ex…" JP's looking at the floor now. His voice catches. "He tried to… to force intimacy."
Haru's brow furrows. "Force intimacy? I do not understand this phrase."
"Assault," Elliot says quietly. "He means assault."
"Oh." Haru's face crumples. "Oh, JP." And then they're hugging him, Haru wrapping around his side, Elliot's hand on his shoulder.
JP lets them, his eyes closed. The shirt crumples in my hands.
I knew. JP told me back when Sebastian was still living here, late one night when we couldn't sleep.
But hearing it again, seeing Haru learn it for the first time, watching Elliot's careful gentleness.
"I don't want to drag down the night," JP says, voice muffled. "This is about Max."
"This is about all of us," I interrupt. "You're not dragging anything down."
JP looks up at me, eyes suspiciously bright. "I'm really glad I met you guys. All of you."
"We're glad too," Elliot says, and Haru squeezes tighter. We stay like this for a moment, them on the bed, me standing awkwardly with my shirt-turned-stress-ball. Then JP takes a breath and straightens up.
"Okay. Enough." He swipes at his face quickly. "Max, those jeans are tragic. They make your ass look like a sad pancake."
I look down at the jeans I was wearing before. "They're comfortable.”
"Comfortable is for Netflix nights," JP says, that sharp humor back in his voice. "Not events worth showing up for. Put the skinny jeans on."
"The black denim highlights your gluteal structure most favorably," Haru adds, still hugging JP but clearly committed to the outfit mission.
"My gluteal structure," I repeat.
"Your ass," JP translates. "Gay guys gotta show that off. It's in the handbook."
"There's a handbook?"
"Chapter three. Right after 'how to color-code your closet' and before 'the proper way to judge someone's taste in music.'"
Elliot's almost-smiling. Haru looks confused but happy. And JP's shoulders have dropped. He exhales slowly, like something loosened. Maybe saying it out loud, having us hear it, and not running away made the weight a little less.
I pull the purple shirt back on. "Okay. Final verdict?"
"You look hot," JP says simply. "Tell us more about this guy?"
So I do. While I finish getting ready, fighting with my hair, finding shoes that aren't covered in robotics grease, I talk about Forrest. The robo-wrestlers tournament, how we talked at that art exhibition months ago, the way he texts in complete sentences but with way too many exclamation points.
"He sounds friendly," Elliot says.
"He's nice," I say. And he is. Really, genuinely nice.
"Is he handsome?" Haru asks.
"I mean… yeah, I guess. He's tall, has light brown hair, and a good smile." I'm checking my reflection one more time. "Why does that matter? This isn’t a date.”
"It does not matter,” Haru says serenely. "I was simply curious."
"He's a good guy," I say. "Del vouched for him."
Elliot nods. "Good enough." We head downstairs, where the kitchen smells amazing, garlic and herbs, and delicious baking.
Leo's at the stove, stirring a large pot.
He's wearing his usual home uniform: athletic pants and a worn T-shirt from some physics competition.
His hair's falling in his eyes, and he's got that focused expression he gets when he's cooking.
My stomach does the thing again. Different from the nervous flutter. This one's worse.
"I made a lot," Leo says without turning around. "Even though I was planning to use the air fryer, but someone—" He shoots me a look over his shoulder. "—forgot to put it back together after taking it apart."
Heat creeps up my neck. "I was testing the heating element efficiency—"
"You were destroying kitchen appliances," Leo corrects, but there's no real heat in it. "Again."
"I said I was sorry—"
"You said you'd stop taking things apart."
"I said I'd try to stop." JP snickers. Haru looks fascinated by this clearly familiar argument, and Leo turns fully now, spoon still in hand, and stops. His eyes travel from my shoes up to my hair and back down again. "Why are you dressed like that?"
The words hit wrong. I feel my shoulders tense. "Like what?"
"I mean—" Leo's backtracking. "You look nice. Really nice. Just… different. You usually wear more relaxed clothes. Even for dates."
Different. Not bad-different. Just different from usual. I'm going to think about that later, and I'm not going to think about why I'm going to think about it.
"Tonight is special," Haru announces proudly. "Therefore, special clothes."
"Max looks action-ready," JP adds with a completely straight face.
Leo goes very still for a second. "Right. Tonight. The robo-wrestlers thing."
"You know the plan," I say, and it comes out sharp. "You were there when Forrest asked me to go."
"I know." Leo turns back to the stove. "I remember." The silence stretches. Elliot's watching us with those too-perceptive eyes. Haru looks confused. JP's studying his phone like it's suddenly fascinating.
"I need—" Leo gestures vaguely toward the pantry and heads that way without finishing the sentence. I follow. Can't help it. He's three steps in, reaching for something on the upper shelf, a can of tomatoes he definitely doesn't need, when I slip in behind him.
"Are you okay with this?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Be honest."
Leo grabs the can and doesn't turn around. "I'm fine with it."
"You don't seem fine."
"How do I seem?"
"I don't know! Weird. You've been weird for two weeks—"
"You've been ambushing me for two weeks," Leo counters, finally turning. His ears are going pink. "Listing reasons like I'm some kind of… of equation to solve."
"I stopped!" I have. Mostly. “After you faked sleep for forty-five minutes, I got the message. I'm trying to respect your boundaries here, Leo. You said no, so I'm… I'm getting on with things. Forrest's a nice guy. Del vouched for him. He's into robotics and actually gets what I do—"
"Sounds perfect."
"He does! And you're being weird about it, which I don't get, because he's just a friend, Leo. A new friend. Why is that a problem?"