THEN
Emboldened by my talk with Mai at the Grand Canyon, I came out to my parents that summer. Or tried to. It didn’t go over well. My dad dismissed it as an adolescent phase and told me never to speak of it again. He also insisted I take a martial arts class. He didn’t say it outright, but I believe he thought that by learning a fighting technique I might improve upon my otokorashi-sa, or masculinity. My mother didn’t say a word in my defense, which kind of crushed me. Perhaps she too was hoping I would, as my father insisted, “grow out of it.”
That messed with my head. I began to wonder if Seth was only a phase for me and if I might venture back to the land of the straights now that our relationship was over. It also didn’t help that I couldn’t masturbate without thinking about Seth. Was my entire sexuality dependent upon one person?
I dealt with my confusion by trying to stay busy.
I bought some free weights and worked out in the garage. I played basketball with the neighborhood kids. I finally got good at it. I’d grown taller my freshman year and even more so that summer. My mom told me I should go out for the school’s basketball team. I considered it. As I said before, Hilliard was an arts school, so I’d probably make the team.
I still texted with Seth, but I didn’t make plans to meet up with him. I didn’t sneak over to his house in the middle of the night either. I made excuses as to why I couldn’t see him. I had jiu-jitsu or a family thing. I wasn’t feeling well. I was tired and going to stay in that night. Mai wanted to go see a movie. The last one was usually true. Mai was leaving soon, and good old Terrance was going with her, which meant she devoted most of her remaining free time to me.
I thought Seth would give up on me. Move on. I told myself that was what I wanted, but if that were true, I wouldn’t continue to text him back or answer his calls. We had a lot of arguments about my unavailability via FaceTime. He still insisted on seeing my face. It seemed safe enough.
Finally, fed up with my latest round of excuses, Seth asked the question I’d been asking myself. “How long are you going to punish me for this?”
“I’m not punishing you,” I said reflexively.
His brow furrowed in consternation. Seth never bought into my bullshit.
“I don’t know,” I said. Our conversation suddenly became much more serious. I didn’t want to mess with his head or play mind games, so I decided to be honest with him. “I’m trying to be your friend. I think that’s safer for now.”
“Safer how?” he asked with incredulity.
“Well, you’re not going to stop fucking around, and I’m not ready to get my heart broken again.”
“You’re too hung up on sex, Hiroku.”
I sighed, exasperated by his double standard. “What would you do if I got a boyfriend, Seth?”
His eyes narrowed to menacing slits. “I’d fucking kill him.” He scrutinized my face as if the secret was hidden there. “Are you seeing someone?”
“No,” I admitted. I had no interest in anyone but Seth, sadly. Not even my hot jiu-jitsu instructor who’d dropped me on my ass during our last class, then gave me his number afterward so that I could help him “practice his English.”
“Why can’t we be more than friends?” Seth asked.
“So, you can fuck me?”
“No,” he said like I’d offended his delicate sensibilities. “I just want this, in person. I want to sing you some of the new songs we’re working on. I want you to come see my new apartment. I want you hanging out during our rehearsals and see you in the audience at our shows.” He glanced away for a second before adding, “And I want to fuck you.”
I stared at my ceiling. My dick was instantly hard and extremely into that idea after so many weeks with only my clumsy-ass hand to occupy it.
“This is all I can offer you right now,” I told him. I’d come too far to go running back to him now.
He hissed through his teeth. “Fine. We have a show coming up at The Tomahawk. It’s the day before my birthday. It’d be really cool if you could make it. For old time’s sake.”
He was appealing to my sentimentality. Of course, I wanted to see Petty Crime play out at The Tomahawk—our big dream was finally being realized, and I didn’t want to miss it—but would I be strong enough to resist him?
I nodded without making any promises. “Congratulations on the gig. You guys are really making it.”
“We never would have gotten where we are without you,” he said earnestly.
He might be right, but I didn’t want to take too much of the credit. “You’ve earned your success. You should enjoy it.”
“I’d enjoy it more if you were here with me.”
He stared at me with his brooding bedroom eyes. I bit my lip to prevent myself from saying anything to encourage him. Then I acted like I needed to go do something super important, even though I’d just be lying there in my bad, replaying our sex highlights reel in my mind and torturing myself with what might have been, what could still be, if only…
A few things happened at the end of that summer in a collision of circumstance, which blew me off-course. A perfect storm.
Mai left for college at the beginning of August. We packed her steadfast Honda to the brim along with Dad’s Subaru. He followed her to Columbia like a dutiful footman and shepherded her into her new life. I wanted to go with them, but my mom had to work, and we didn’t want to leave her home alone and sad about Mai, so I put on a brave face as Mai, smiling and waving, drove away.
Mom and I did what we do best. We cried about Mai leaving, watched tele-novellas and The Bachelorette, and ate junk food on the couch, getting crumbs everywhere. But that only lasted until my dad returned, and then it was back to the business of living.
I hadn’t expected Mai’s absence to affect me so deeply or for me to be so lonely without her, but I’d kind of glommed onto her that summer. I didn’t realize until she was gone how much I needed her shoulder to lean on. We spoke by phone, but it was always hectic and scattered. Her mind was in a million different places, and she needed to focus on organizing her new life, rather than being sucked back into her old one.
High school started back up, and I hung out with Sabrina at lunchtime again. We’d gotten together a couple of times over the summer, but we had to make the agreement that any subject involving Seth was off-limits, and since Petty Crime was taking up more and more of her time, it left us little to talk about.
During the first week of school, we caught up on our classes and our respective summer vacations. Sabrina had quit marching band to devote more time to rehearsing with Petty Crime. Seth was a bitch to be in a band with, she said, but he did make them better. Then she apologized for talking about him at all.
“It’s cool, Sabrina. I don’t want you to have to dance around the subject. You can discuss band business with me if you want.”
So, she confided in me that she’d kissed Jeannie one night at an after party when they were both drunk. Mitchell didn’t know, or if he did, he hadn’t said anything about it. I asked her if she thought Jeannie was a lesbian, and Sabrina said she hoped so. Weirdly enough, Mitchell was giving Sabrina rides from school to band practice every day. I saw them as I was walking home. Mitchell pulled up to the curb in his Malibu and offered me a ride as well.
“Thanks, but I’ll walk.” I hoped he wouldn’t take it personally. He nodded like he understood. Mitchell, for as little as he said, was pretty good at subtext.
I was on my deserted island, trying to fill my time with homework and extracurriculars, but academics had always come pretty easy to me, and I’d never been much of a joiner. Not only that, but I was feeling that end-of-summer itch to get out on the town and stretch my claws. I felt stronger emotionally and physically than I had in a while. I suppose you could say I was suffering from an abundance of confidence, so when Seth called the day before his birthday and asked me again to come to their show that night as a birthday present to him, I felt it was completely manageable to attend as a friend—and only a friend—of the band I’d helped create.
“I’ll give your name to the front door,” Seth said with delight in his voice. “You won’t have any trouble getting in.”
And just like that, I was back on my bullshit, telling my parents I was spending the night at Sabrina’s, which actually pleased my mom because she thought I’d been spending too much time holed up in my room. Only this time, I really did intend to stay the night at her house, only after attending a bitchin’ rock show in Austin’s premiere outdoor arena.
Regardless of what happened that night, I wouldn’t go home with Seth. That was my hard-and-fast rule. But even after making that rule, I tucked a couple of condoms in my pocket. Just in case.
The show didn’t start until midnight, so I milled around the arts district with my hands shoved deep in my pockets, reflecting on the band’s journey in just a few months and how my birthday wish appeared to be coming true.
I stood in line outside The Tomahawk, even though I probably could have told the bouncer at the front that I was with the band. Number one groupie, I thought. How true. But I wanted to get the full outsider experience of waiting in line, letting that anticipation build, seeing the band under the lights for the first time... Maybe too, I was stalling. I hadn’t seen Seth in person for more than two months. I didn’t know what kind of hold he’d have over me, if any. Maybe I’d see him and feel nothing. I had mixed feelings about that too.
When I got to the front and gave them my name, the bouncer waved me in and even gave me a 21-and-over wristband so that I could order a drink from the bar if I wanted. The stage was still dark when I got inside, so I meandered from the bottom floor to the upper levels where people were starting to crowd together. I’d seen the Petty Crime posters out front, a black-and-white photograph of the band I’d taken a while back with their name in a messy, hot pink font. It had a very gritty Sex Pistols feel to it and I approved.
I bought a beer, even though I didn’t care for the taste of it. I figured it might settle my nerves and help me to relax.
The crowd was getting a little restless—midnight was late for any show to start—and just when it seemed they were on the brink of forming a mob, Petty Crime took the stage. Seth was wearing black leather pants, a bedazzled jacket—no shirt—and combat boots. Leather was Seth’s thing. He liked for me to wear it, and he liked to use it as a restraint during foreplay and sex. I avoided buying leather along with any other dead animal skins, but I’d made a few exceptions with Seth. It was impossible for me to see him in those pants and not think about some of our past experiments that dealt in leather. I’d bet he wore them to remind me.
Seth’s hair was slicked back in Elvis-like fashion, and he was clean-shaven with a new tattoo across his left pectoral. I couldn’t make it out from where I stood. It kind of bothered me that he’d gotten a tattoo without telling me, but maybe he just wanted to show me in person.
Mitchell wore an old Pantera T-shirt and black jeans. Dean wore something similar. Sabrina had a black studded tank top with a choker and black lipstick. Goth Sabrina. I could dig it. Her arms looked amazing, as always. But none of them held my attention the way that Seth did.
Petty Crime started off the show with one of their old songs—a hard, fast one—but it didn’t take off quite like I remembered. It took me listening to the first song and half of the second to realize Seth was off his game. From my vantage point on the balcony, I had a good view of him and the rest of the band. Seth was white-knuckling the microphone, his voice lacked the power and confidence I’d taken for granted as part of his performance art, and he was barely moving on stage.
He was nervous. The pressure of being in this make-it-break-it situation was messing with his head.
Seth missed a lyric. The crowd couldn’t tell, but I saw the look Sabrina shot him over her drum kit after covering for him. Mitchell glanced across the stage at Dean. Subtle looks and gestures no one else would pick up on. Seth’s eyes roved somewhat frantically over the crowd. I could see him spiraling. I lifted my beer in the air to catch his attention. His eyes slowly came to rest on mine. I nodded, telling him to focus on me and forget about the crowd. He smiled a little, looking relieved, eyes centering on me like a missile, locked and loaded. He sang to me and only me. I fell under his spell along with everyone else in the arena. Seth had that power. I had no doubt he could have almost any hetero woman, gay-leaning man, and some straight ones as well by the end of the night.
But who or what Seth slept with wasn’t my business anymore. I was there to support the band.
I sipped at my beer and let myself be ensnared in Seth’s web. With his voice, he spun the strands of silk, coiling tighter and tighter until there was nowhere left for me to go. Trapped but in the best possible way. They played for an hour, but it felt like only ten minutes. At the conclusion of their show, after the band had taken their final bows and the applause had mostly died down, Seth grabbed the microphone once more. He looked across the arena, pointed at me, and said, “You stay right there, Hiroku Hayashi.”
I’d always had difficulty disobeying a direct order from him.
It took a while for him to reach me. Everyone wanted a piece of Seth Barrett. Someone placed a shot in his hand, which he downed almost instantly. For all he knew, it could be laced with drugs. Women let their fingers trail across his shoulders, down his back, which was now clothed with only a black tank top separating his skin from their greedy, grasping hands. The jacket had been abandoned somewhere on stage after the first couple of songs. His bandmates were packing up their equipment. I hoped Seth was pulling his weight in that department.
“You came,” Seth said when he reached me, positively glowing with a smile that was the culmination of all the adrenaline pumping through his veins. And the applause. Nothing got Seth off like performing for a crowd.
“Happy birthday,” I told him, resisting the urge to lay a hand on him. “Nice pants,” I said appreciatively, wondering if even saying that was too much of a risk.
“You’d look better in them,” Seth said. He scrutinized me then, eye fucked me from head to toe and back again, pausing to linger on my crotch in a not-so-subtle way.
“You’re taller,” he said, bewildered by it, perhaps forgetting I was only fifteen when we met almost a year ago.
“Growth spurt,” I said. His eyes drifted down to my crotch again, and I assumed he was wondering if I was now bigger than him in that department as well. I had no idea. I wasn’t into comparing like he was.
He stumbled then, mentally. He looked confused, like he didn’t recognize me. Like I was a different person. I’d grown up that summer, and my indifference to him was apparent. Maybe my neediness and vulnerability were what he was after to begin with, and he didn’t find this newer version of me attractive anymore. That would solve both of our problems.
“Are you going to the after party?” he asked. I sensed that wasn’t originally what he’d come here to tell me.
I nodded. I’d already told Sabrina I’d meet her there.
“Good.” He patted my shoulder somewhat awkwardly then looked at me again. We now stood at eye level with each other. Without his combat boots, I’d probably be taller than him, which gave me some sense of satisfaction. “We’ll catch up then.”
He retreated into the mouth of the crowd and wove his way through the throngs of people without looking back. I didn’t know what was going through his head, but I knew that I’d spooked him.
For once it felt like I had the upper hand.
The after party was at an apartment complex in Red River, where it seemed everyone in the residence had an understanding that partying was the order of business for the weekend. There were several kegs surrounding the courtyard pool where most of the twenty- and thirtysomethings had gathered. Sabrina and I were probably the youngest people there, but I’d gotten used to it after all of that time hanging out with Seth and his friends. I’d grown up fast, and as a result, found I had little in common with kids my own age.
Sabrina was royalty to both the men and women alike. Her skill commanded respect, and her ballsy attitude made her more like one of the guys, so she always had a contingent of burly, smart-mouthed metal heads surrounding her like ladies-in-waiting. Men with big, unkempt beards and stalwart arguments on everything from music to movies to immigration and guns. Don’t tread on me. Their arguments usually boiled down to more guns and fewer immigrants. I fit in with that crowd about as well as one could imagine.
So, I sipped at my beer and caught up with Mitchell and Jeannie. They were still very much together, but I caught Jeannie sneaking glances across the pool at Sabrina from time to time. I smelled a future disaster lurking there for Petty Crime but resolved that it was none of my business. Sasha had transferred to UT Austin, and she and Caleb had broken up. Caleb was going to trade school to become an electrician and couldn’t party as much anymore, which was a bummer for Mitchell and Seth. That sounded good to me, like he was getting his shit together.
I caught up with Dean as well. I’d heard from Sabrina he’d gone on a bender earlier that summer. He showed me the tattoo of a scythe he’d gotten on his arm as motivation to stay on the straight and narrow, which reminded me of Seth’s tattoo and the fact that he still hadn’t mentioned it to me. I told myself to let it go.
The birthday boy arrived fashionably late to a crowd of adoring fans and an endless train of drinks and flirtations. I spied on him unseen from across the courtyard. The drugs must have been easy for him to come by these days. The rock star lifestyle couldn’t be good for his mental or physical health, which worried me. I observed from afar as Seth charmed his admirers with his wit and intelligence. I could tell by the way everyone waited for him to speak before contributing their own opinions, how his potential lovers positioned themselves to be near him, looking for any excuse to touch him.
How did I think I’d ever be able to compete?
Rather than pursue this masochistic exercise, I took my now warm beer and sat at the bottom of the stairwell to one of the apartment buildings like the troll under the bridge, chatting with whatever inebriated individual happened upon me. At around 3 a.m. I was considering bailing on Sabrina and going home. My mom had let me borrow her car, so I didn’t have to stick around if I didn’t feel like it. I had just texted Sabrina to let her know I was leaving when Seth appeared in front of me like a magician. Poof. He must have tossed at least some of the drinks he’d been given because he looked entirely sober.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said. “Did you see my texts?”
My phone was still in my hand, so there was no getting around it.
“This is your night. I didn’t want to monopolize your time.”
He gave me the look that said, bullshit, and I smiled at his ability to read me like a book.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” Seth jerked his thumb behind him. “24-Hour Diner?”
I couldn’t resist a greasy breakfast from our favorite restaurant, and it seemed a safe enough place for Seth and me to talk. I still didn’t know why it was so important to him that I was there that night, other than to witness their success and his fabulousness, which, if that was all, I’d already fulfilled my duty.
“I need a ride,” Seth said.
“I have my mom’s car.”
It took forever for us to leave with Seth introducing me to all of his people, and everyone having to bid his majesty farewell. The attention couldn’t be good for his already overdeveloped ego. Several of his now legitimate groupies looked at me with a mixture of jealousy and respect.
“Why does it feel like they all know who I am?” I asked Seth on our way out, thankful for the non-smoky night air and blessed quiet.
“I talk about you a lot,” he said shiftily. “And Insta.”
I hadn’t checked his Instagram in months. He must be posting old pictures of us. I found it flattering and a little strange.
We didn’t say much in the car on our ride to the diner. Both of us were thinking up a game plan. In our relationship, I’d always been the one reacting to Seth, never putting forth my own demands, so now placed in this position, I didn’t know what I wanted from our exchange. Foolishly, part of me thought we were really just going to catch up.
Inside the diner, we stared across the booth at each other like we’d encountered a new species. After ordering our food, Seth thanked me again for saving his ass back at The Tomahawk.
“That’s never happened to me,” he marveled. “I never froze up like that before.”
“It was a big crowd,” I said with sympathy.
“Yeah,” he said like he was still processing it. “Thank God you were there.”
I smiled a little. I did feel good about that.
“What if I can’t do this, Hiroku? What if we’re not any good?”
It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while, Seth would get a panicked look about him, as if he’d just woken up to find himself standing naked in the hallway. Imposter’s Syndrome, he’d told me was the name for it, and it was an artist’s worst nightmare.
I leveled him with my eyes as I’d done back at the club. “You’re already doing it, Seth. You played out tonight at the freaking Tomahawk, and you killed it. You and Sabrina, Mitchell and Dean. You guys are working hard. You’re organized, committed, and you’ve never sounded better as a band. Don’t let a touch of stage fright mess with your master plan.”
He nodded with renewed confidence. In the same way I trusted him to give me honest feedback about my art, he trusted me to be honest with him about their music. He demanded it, in fact, ever since that first time he asked me what I thought of his band. He’d trained me to properly venerate him for his magnificence and to know when his magnificence was waning. “Your moon is a waxing gibbous,” I told him, knowing he’d understand.
He smiled. He was susceptible to flattery, but he knew that I didn’t give it without good reason.
“Thank you for coming out tonight, Hiroku.”
“You’re welcome.”
I lost myself in his gaze as he scrutinized me again, trying to get in my head. I felt my mind growing pliant while under the table my dick was getting hard. I knew what that look meant. He’d never been shy about letting me know he wanted me. So, that was still a thing.
“You’ve got muscles,” Seth said.
I flexed my arm like a jock and kissed my bicep. Seth laughed. I’d forgotten what it sounded like.
“And you cut your hair.”
“Jeannie did it for me.” I ran my hand through my now short hair, shaved on both sides and a little longer on top. Mai had gone with me to the salon where she worked, and Jeannie had cut her hair as well. She insisted on not charging us, so we tipped her really well. Both of us turned down her offer of color.
“What’d your parents say about the piercing?” Seth asked.
I recalled my dad’s fury at seeing it. I’d acted confused by his anger and told him I’d gotten the piercing, like, months ago. Mai backed me up. When we worked together to gaslight my dad, we were pretty convincing.
“He was pissed,” I told Seth. “He tried to make me take it out.”
“But you didn’t,” Seth answered, and I knew he was referring to our commitment to each other. It bothered me how everything about me circled back to him, but I’d resolved that this was my image now. Authentically me.
“I came out to my parents,” I told Seth with a little less confidence.
“Oh yeah? How did that go?” He sat back and waited for me to elaborate.
“My dad said it was a phase and I’d grow out of it.”
Seth sneered at that. He had no patience for anyone’s homophobia however overt or subdued, regardless of age or relation. “That’s shitty.”
“Yeah.” I studied my thumbs pressed together on the tabletop in front of me. It seemed like my dad hadn’t really looked me in the eye since I’d told him I was gay. Or, if it was just him and I in the kitchen or living room, he’d leave right away so that we wouldn’t be alone together. He was avoiding me, which was a different kind of disapproval, but it made me regret coming out to him all the same.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Hiroku.” Seth reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers. I needed to hear it. “You think he’ll come around?”
Some part of me still thought I could earn my father’s respect, maybe through my academic achievements. “No. I don’t think he will. I’m just trying not to make waves,” I said seriously.
“By hiding who you are?” Seth still had the ability to slice right through me. I glanced around for our food, thinking maybe I should cut this visit short. Seth could Uber back to his place.
“I’m sorry,” Seth said, probably sensing my urge to flee. “I just wish your father could see what I see.”
I glanced up at him. Our connection was still there—as strong as ever—and I wanted desperately to belong to him again. To have Seth’s love, acceptance and guidance…
“We should make a sex tape and send it to your dad,” Seth said, shifting the conversation with levity. “Maybe that will convince him.”
My eyebrows shot up and I felt bad for the smirk on my face.
“You like that idea, don’t you, you little pervert?” Seth teased while nudging me under the table with his foot.
“That is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had,” I said, but I was laughing, so my outrage wasn’t very convincing.
“Or I could show up on your doorstep.” Seth smiled and seemed to delight in that role. “Tattoos and all.”
“Yeah, so what’s up with the new tattoo?”
Seth flashed me a cocky grin, “If you’re good, I’ll show it to you later.”
I tried to play it off like that prospect didn’t thrill me, like my cock wasn’t already nudging impatiently at my fly. It would take so little for him to get me off. He wouldn’t even have to touch me…
Meanwhile, Seth stared at my face as if trying to memorize my features. “Point is, you look good, Hiroku. Really good. How’s jiu-jitsu?”
That was my excuse the other night for not being able to hang out with him. I found it telling he’d decided to ask about that of all the things he could bring up.
“It’s fine.”
“I bet there are a lot of hot guys in there. All that sweating and grappling…”
I tilted my head at his uncanny ability to identify the danger zones. “There are a few.”
Seth swallowed and reached for my hand again. “I could be faithful. For you.”
That kind of ruined the moment for me. I honestly didn’t believe him. I recalled some of the looks I’d gotten that night when his groupies saw Seth and I leaving together. Their jealousy could only mean they felt they already had a claim to him. It wasn’t just men, either, but women too. It shouldn’t matter to me who Seth screwed around with, but the women bothered me more because they could give him things I couldn’t.
I pulled my hand away. “We’re here to catch up, Seth. As friends. Let’s not go making promises or spouting off great proclamations.”
He sat back in the booth and gave me a wounded look, but he recovered quickly enough. Our conversation veered into more pedestrian topics. He told me about his new apartment not far from there in the Red River district, which was decidedly the coolest part of Austin. His apartment was within walking distance of an arts collective where the band was renting a garage to practice, his mom having finally said enough is enough. Jeannie was managing the band’s bank account with oversight from Sabrina. They weren’t making enough money for any of them to quit their day jobs, but they’d gotten a couple of offers from small recording labels to cut an indie record. Seth wanted to put together a few new songs for an album, one that told a complete story. He looked at me intently when he said it as if asking for my collaboration. I told him it sounded like a good idea, but I didn’t make any commitments.
Seth also caught me up on all the band gossip, including Caleb and Sasha’s breakup, Dean’s fall from the wagon, and the clandestine kiss between Jeannie and Sabrina.
“Does Mitchell know?” I asked him.
“He hasn’t said anything about it, but I think he knows.”
“Shit.”
Seth cut his eyes at me. “It was only a kiss.”
I gave him a look.
All of our conversations circled back to that. And as we sat there, me with my abundance of confidence and Seth with his bedroom eyes, a dangerous idea began to take hold in my mind. I was tired of this parry-and-feint dance of ours and of denying myself pleasure all of these months. The simple fact was, I needed to be fucked thoroughly, and Seth was more than willing. He was an expert at knowing what I needed even when I didn’t know it myself. We were both adults; at least I considered myself to be one. I’d placed enough emotional distance between us those past few months that I wouldn’t get tangled up in his web of lies again. I’d enter in this time with eyes wide open. I’d encase my heart in platinum and make it impossible for him to penetrate it.
“Look,” I said when the check came. “We both know the sex was good.” It wasn’t the best part of our relationship, but it was right up there. “And we both know you can’t be monogamous. So, why don’t we cut the bullshit and just fuck when we feel like it?”
“Like a friends with benefits situation?” Seth asked, seeming not entirely onboard with the idea.
“Yeah. Then you can screw whoever else you want, and I can too.” He started a little at that like he was going to argue with me. If he only knew my utter lack of interest in anyone but him. “You can’t have it both ways,” I warned him.
“But we keep that shit to ourselves,” he said. “I really don’t think I could handle seeing you with another guy, Hiroku.”
“Or a girl,” I said to mess with him.
He gave me that look again, like he didn’t know who I was. I derived some twisted pleasure from it.
“Right,” he said unsteadily.
“So make sure your groupies know that if they see my face, they’d better fucking scatter like sewer rats in the daylight.”
Seth nodded, looking a little bit fearful. “But I want this to be more than just sex.”
It was never just sex, even when it was, but I shrugged and said, “We’ll see where it goes.” I was so cavalier about it. Who was this person acting so nonchalant about his feelings? I really believed I could divorce all emotion from Seth and my relationship.
“And another thing.” I looked at him closely. “When we were together you were always acting shady about the drugs and whatever else you were doing. Maybe you were trying to protect me, or maybe you just wanted to feel like the adult, but this time around, you’re not going to treat me like some stupid fucking kid.”
Seth recoiled like I’d slapped him. “I never thought you were stupid.” He opened his mouth to say more, then stopped.
I glanced down at the check between us. Since I was making demands, I might as well make one more. “And you’re paying for shit from now on. You can afford it, and also you owe me for all of my artistic contributions to Petty Crime.”
Seth pulled out his wallet and dropped some cash on the table like it was nothing. He grabbed my hand to pull me up out of the booth, perhaps worried that if we sat there even a second longer, I’d change my mind.
I took it to mean he’d agreed to my terms.
Later that night in his darkened apartment, after we’d both unspooled ourselves in each other and were lying in a puddle of post-orgasmic bliss like a single-celled amoeba, I asked Seth if he was going to show me his tattoo.
“Of course.” He reached across me to turn on the lamp on his bedside table. I climbed on top of him, placed my hands on his chest, and squinted at the smooth skin of his left pectoral to get a better look.
I drew in a sharp breath.
“You like it?” he asked.
“Holy shit, Seth.”
It was my name—Hiroku—written in cursive. Elegant and beautiful and heart-wrenching. I couldn’t believe he’d gotten my name tattooed on his skin. He’d always said forever, but this was, like, for-e-ver. I was stunned. And confused. For him to get a tattoo like that and not even show it to me? That wasn’t like him to not make a fuss or put it on display. The tattoo also didn’t look red and swollen, which meant he’d had it for a while. How could he know we’d get back together? That he’d ever even see me again?
“Remarkable,” Seth whispered, drawing my cheek down to his chest where I could hear his heart beating like the flapping of birds’ wings.
“For you, Hiroku. Only for you.”