Chapter 5
5
Bryce - 18 years old
“ H ave you ever had sex before, Haruki?”
She looks like she’s about to run out of the fucking room and I’m starting to doubt my question. She told me during one of our conversations that the Japanese are very polite. Did I cross a line by asking that? Haruki bites her lip before answering in a low voice, “Yes. Have you?”
Now I’m the one who is embarrassed. With the heat rushing to my cheeks, I have no doubt my face is the shade of a fucking cherry tomato. “Yes. Not that often, but yes.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe that,” she teases. Her statement bothers me. Why would she say that?
I smile as I scratch my head, realizing what she’s insinuating. “Ah, yes, the girls at the party shooting daggers at you and my jock friends.” They don’t say you are who you hang out with for nothing, I guess. “I promise I don’t do a lot of hookups. I haven’t even had sex since Christmas. Compared to my friends, I’m basically a virgin.”
“So you don’t usually pick up random tourists to invite to parties and sleep with them later on?”
I shake my head and a laugh bubbles out of my throat. “You’re the lucky first.” Wanting to lighten the mood, I decide to tell her the truth. I really hope it comes out as funny as I imagine it in my head. “I already felt a spark between us when we first met, but I didn’t want you to think I was a creepy kidnapper. So I nipped it in the bud.” A giggle creeps out of her mouth.
Thank God she’s laughing.
“So, what do you say? Up for a little holiday romance?” My heart stings a little saying the second sentence. If she were someone local, I would go all the fuck in. She’s really cool. I can see myself going out with her, but the fact that I know she could leave at a moment’s notice makes me put a leash on myself.
I know what this is. It's a tale as old as time, especially in the summer months. It’s called fucking the tourist, holiday fling, one-night stand with the local. Whatever you want to call it, it has an expiration date. She will be gone. Maybe in two days, maybe by the end of the week, but she will not stay here. She’ll travel around and go back to Japan.
Who knows? Maybe it is because I know she won’t be here forever. Maybe that’s the charm of it all. So why shouldn’t I share my whole self with her? I’m already blabbering my secrets to her, so I might as well. I was attracted to her when I first saw her on the beach, and I couldn’t even see her full image until the sun came out, due to the god-awful lighting. But now? Now I just want to be connected to her, with her, in every way possible before we go our separate ways.
When she nods, I lean over toward her, twisting my body, so that our lips can meet. The taste of cherry lip balm coats my tongue as I slide it between her lips. When I open my eyes, I see two chocolate orbs studying me.
“I’m glad we met, Haruki,” I say, my hand holding one of her cheeks.
“Me too, Bryce.”
We move to the bed behind us, both of us lying down on the salmon-colored comforter and tangling our arms and legs together. It feels weird to be fucking someone in a room littered with shrimp decorations, but the way her skin feels so soft to the touch as I glide my hand up her thigh and under her dress makes me forget about the giant crustacean ornaments hanging on the wall.
I plant soft kisses on her lips, carefully taking mental notes of how everything feels because, somehow, I know the memory of this night will be replaying in my head over and over again.
Haruki’s hands grab the sides of my shirt and I break our kiss to pull it off. I smile when I see what’s on her upper thigh. “Cute,” I say, pointing to the small tattoo of a blue cartoon figure just above the hem of her dress. “Do I get to hear the story about that?”
She smiles. “You don’t know Doraemon?” When I shake my head, she looks at me in disbelief. “It’s a very famous Japanese manga. He’s a robot cat.”
“Nope. Never heard of it.”
“We’re watching an episode after this,” she suddenly says, propping herself with her elbows. “I grew up watching Doraemon.”
I straddle her, forcing her to lie on her back. A chuckle escapes my mouth as I kiss the side of her neck. “You’re going to tell me more about the robot cat later, but right now, we have something better to do.” I am not going to let some stupid cartoon ruin this moment.
Haruki moans when I palm her breasts over the dress. The way they feel, with the centers stiffening under the cotton, jolts what’s between my thighs fucking awake. Either she’s not wearing a bra, or she’s wearing one of those fake tank top bra things that girls like to wear. I grin when I pull the neckline down to find out it’s the former. Her tits are fucking perfect. Not too big, but perky—just the way I like.
Popping one of them in my mouth as I flick her other nipple with my finger is turning her delirious. I might not have fucked as many people as my friends have, but I do know that girls love this shit. So do I. I appreciate a great set of tits as much as the next person does, but I never cared enough to do this. To truly enjoy this. Sex for me has only ever been drunken hookups at parties. A wham bam, thank you, ma’am, if you will. But right now, I’m feasting.
Trailing kisses down her stomach, my hand reaches for my wallet in my pocket and I grab a condom I keep in there before pulling my shorts off and the briefs under it. Haruki’s eyes go straight down to my hardened dick.
Haruki swallows and I can’t help but chuckle. “What’s the story behind that?” she asks with a cocked eyebrow, her voice raspy and her tits on full display. I’m pretty sure I’m drooling at the sight of the brown circles taunting me with their peaks.
“My mini-me likes to be decorated.” My reversed Prince Albert piercing is already glistening in precum. This thing is fucking stupid, but a dare is a dare. And I didn’t back out of mine. It was a pleasure to get, too—knowing that my dad would lose his shit if he ever found out. I shudder at the direction my mind is taking me. Stop thinking about your dad, Bryce. Not the time.
I peel her panties off of her. I spread her legs so that I have enough space to settle between them. From this angle, I see the entirety of this girl. With her colorful hair, her funny tattoo, and her nail polish, she looks nothing like the cheerleaders who are usually my type. She looks like a goth chick doused in pixie dust. But I’d be lying if I said the sight of her doesn’t turn me on, and every cell in my body is mesmerized by her. She’s fucking gorgeous.
My right index finger plays with her clit, using her own wetness, while my other hand guides my boner to her opening. When Haruki feels the metal on her skin, she lets out a whimper.
Drawing lazy circles with my thumb, I watch her as she starts to pant. Her fingers reach down for my hand and she guides me to move faster.
“Do you like that?” I ask as I stroke my own dick.
“Yes,” she says with a moan. “Faster, please.”
I continue rubbing her as I roll the condom along my length. They say the first few seconds of your penis being inside a vagina is the best part of sex. This feels like crack. My heart and my dick agree—this will not be the one and only time I will be doing this with this girl.
Pulling out of her slowly, the gasp she lets out tells me she feels the loss just as much as I do. Her, the way I fill her up. And me, the way her pussy hugs my shaft like it’s a fucking winter parka.
Going back in, I pump myself in and out of her, hoping that this won’t end too quickly for me and praying that she will climax first before I embarrass myself. I wish I could slow down, but I can’t. The feeling of our organs bumping against each other with her slickness lubing it all up feels too good, fueling my impending climax.
“Bryce…this is intense,” she says in between breaths, her gaze focused on where we’re connected and the thumb I just placed on her clit. “I can’t handle you doing both at the same time.”
“Just enjoy it, Haruki.” And please, just come.
Knowing I have to pace myself, I thrust in and out of her slowly. Despite what the primal side of me thinks, my brain is deciding to go against it. I want to savor this. I need to savor this. How many times will I get to be with her before she leaves?
“Bryce…” she whimpers.
“I got you,” I say with a smile, but inside my head, I’m scrambling. Despite the rumor mill at our high school, which likes to churn out gossip about me being a player, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing half the time. I’m pretty sure the girls I’ve slept with just claim that I was a good lay for bragging rights.
So, I do what the university of porn has taught me and start thrusting into her harder while my finger picks up the pace. She’s not hating it. My dick clearly doesn’t hate it. We’re good.
The moment she arches her back and calls out my name, relief washes over me. I take that as a cue that I can also let go. It takes me only three fucking pumps before I’m also over the edge, releasing my cum and grunting as I do so.
I give her a quick kiss on the forehead before walking to the bathroom to throw away the filled condom. When I come back, Haruki is already wearing one of her oversized shirts. She turns on the air conditioning in the room and goes back to the bed.
“So what’s the story with the cat robot tattoo?” I lie down next to her, spooning her body that perfectly fits into mine. I don’t tell her that this is my first time cuddling a girl I just slept with.
She turns around and kisses my chest. “He’s my favorite character. He has this door called the Dokodemo door that can take you to any place you wish. I always thought that it was so cool that Doraemon and his friends could travel anywhere they wanted to.”
“If you had one of those doors right now, where would you go?” I ask as I tighten my hold on her body.
“To a time when my mother was still alive, but no door could take me there. So I’ll settle for the country she grew up in.”
I finally get it. Our spark. Our connection. Our peculiar nighttime hobby. Despite us being completely different people, Haruki Sano gets me because she is me. We are the same. I’m willing to bet that she got her tattoo and her hair dyed for the same reason I got my dick pierced and I keep going to pointless parties all the time.
When your mother is dead and your father throws himself into work, you’d do anything to make yourself feel alive. You’d do anything to scream, hey, it’s me! Take notice! I’m here! It’s comforting to know that loneliness looks the same no matter where you live, no matter how you look, no matter who you are.
“What about you, Bryce?” she asks me. “Where would you go?”
“I’m already where I want to be.” I might actually still be drunk, and this is not something that I usually say to girls, especially since I’ve never had an actual girlfriend, but I say it anyway. “Where you are is exactly where I want to be,” I tell her before my eyelids close and I drift off to sleep.