by Shae Connor
Heath comes over then, and for the next twenty minutes, Darryn chats with various teammates as they visit to check in with him. Much as I’d prefer to have him to myself, at least I get to sit next to him.
Finally, Coach Sato comes over. “Clark, you should probably get a shower before the custodial staff comes in.”
I glance around and realize the three of us are the only ones left in the gym. Darryn elbows me in the side.
“Yeah, you’re starting to stink the place up. Get going.”
I shove him back—gently—and do as I’m told. Coach Sato takes my seat, leaving me to wonder what they discuss while I’m gone.
I’m not gone long. It’s one of the fastest showers I’ve ever taken after practice, and it’s maybe ten minutes before I’m dressed and back out on the floor. Darryn and Coach are still talking, but they stop and stand as I approach.
Coach Sato claps Darryn on his good shoulder. “Good to see you, Kaneko. Keep up that PT. We want you back out on the mats as soon as possible.”
Darryn nods. “On it, Coach.”
Coach Sato gives me a nod and then heads off toward the locker rooms. I turn back to Darryn. “So.” I hike my backpack higher on my shoulder. “Do you have to head back home, or can you hang around a while?”
Darryn crooks up one corner of his mouth. “Dad dropped me off. He and Mom were going out to dinner with friends, and they’ll pick me up on the way back home. I’ve so been missing the dining hall the past few weeks.”
I could cut that sarcasm with a machete. “I’m sure home cooking is getting to be a real drag,” I send back. “How about pizza at Charlie’s? Pretty sure the car’s available.”
“Perfect.”
Darryn grins, and we head toward the door without another word. In sync, like we always have been.
I try not to read too much into that, but Darryn is by my side again, and my heart is soaring.
…
Twenty minutes later, we’re settled into a booth at the pizza parlor where we usually order for delivery. It’s not crowded, not unusual for a Tuesday, though it’s packed on weekend nights. Probably because they offer a 10 percent discount on dine-in orders with student ID, as the sign in the window proudly proclaims.
I reach for the laminated menus in the small rack against the wall, but as I hand one to Darryn, he glances around. “Don’t they have a buffet during the week?”
I’m sitting with my back to the dining room, but I look over my shoulder and don’t see one set up. “Maybe Wednesdays?”
Darryn nods. “Yeah, I think it might’ve been a Wednesday the last time we were in. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” I think for a second. “Maybe the second week of classes?”
“Something like that.” Darryn skims the menu, though after ordering from here a couple of times a month for nearly a year and a half, we likely have it memorized. I follow his lead, though, and settle on something a little different—personal veggie pizza with banana peppers. I set my menu down just as a server arrives.
We place our orders and sit back to wait for our drinks and food. Darryn fiddles with the unnecessary flatware on the table so long that I’m tempted to slap my hand down over his. It’s obvious that he’s working through something, though. I give him time, and eventually he speaks up.
“I realized I owe you an apology.”
I freeze at Darryn’s words. “What could you possibly—”
“You tried to tell me,” he continues, as if I hadn’t interrupted. “You told me what Annie and Mo said about how Rich was acting, and I blew you off. No matter what was going on between us, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
He still has his focus completely on the knife, fork, and spoon lying on the scuffed wooden tabletop, though he’s stopped shifting them around. He’s curled his hands together, and if he didn’t still have a brace covering one of them, I’d imagine he’d be wringing them.
My heart twists to see him so obviously hurting, and I don’t stop myself from reaching out this time. I lay one of my hands over his. “You don’t owe me anything,” I tell him. “You cared about him. You didn’t want to think he’d do anything like…” I don’t need to finish that statement. “It’s not your fault.”
A shudder runs through him. “I feel like an idiot,” he whispers.
My stomach plummets. “You aren’t,” I reassure him as I squeeze his hands gently. “You’re a good guy who expects other people to be good, too. He took advantage of that. And that’s on him, not you. Never you.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, until Darryn finally takes a long, stuttering breath and blows it out. He flips over his good hand and squeezes mine.
“I’m trying to believe that,” he says, his voice stronger. “Maybe eventually I will.”
He finally looks up then, his eyes wet but the tears unshed, and he gives a small, shaky smile.
“Well.” I return the smile with a tiny one of my own. “If you ever need reminding, let me know.”
“I will.” He squeezes my hand one more time before he lets go and leans back in his seat. “Tell me about this thing with you and Kenny Washington.”
I blink at the sudden shift in his attitude, but I don’t ask. I just go with it.
“You know I want to coach eventually, right? Well, one day I saw Kenny working on the floor …”
…
With finals over and four full weeks of winter break freedom ahead of us, Annie and I are back home, loads of dirty laundry in tow. Mom always says she’s going to make us do it ourselves, but somehow that never happens. She does, however, make us sort it, so that’s what we’re doing when Annie finally broaches the subject I’d been expecting.
“How are things going with Darryn?”
I let out a breath and toss another towel into the appropriate bin. “Better,” I tell her. “We’re actually talking about things now, which is an improvement over letting it all stew.”
“Funny how that works.”
I snort. “Yeah, yeah. Communication, what a concept!”
Annie shoots me a grin. “Do you have plans to see each other over the holidays?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Don’t know yet. I don’t know what his family plans are. But I hope so.”
“What did you get him for Christmas?”
My brain freezes. “Dammit.”
Annie laughs at me as I grab for my phone to start searching for ideas. I’m only a few words into a Google search when my phone buzzes and it’s a text from Darryn. Have you headed home yet?
I smile as I type out a response. Yep. Sorting laundry now. Four whole weeks of freedom ahead of me!
Must be nice, he replies. I still have to finish up in bio. The online class runs a few days longer.
Ugh. Need any help studying?
Thanks, I should be okay.
“Oh, I know that look.”
I jerk my head up to see Annie smirking at me. My face heats, but the smile doesn’t leave my face.
“Yeah, yeah.” I shove her shoulder. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll clean up after dinner if you’ll finish sorting this stuff for me?”
Annie snorts. “As long as I don’t have to deal with dirty underwear, you’ve got a deal.” She nods at my phone as it buzzes again. “Go talk to your boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I sketch a mock salute and head for my bedroom, reading his latest message as I go. Are you busy for New Year’s?
Like it matters. If Darryn wants us to spend New Year’s together, I will be there with bells on.
I push my bedroom door shut and perch on the edge of my bead before I reply. No real plans. Having a party?
No party. Just me and my parents. We do some traditional Japanese stuff that’s kinda cool. You’re welcome to come if you want.
Oh, I want, but I tamp down my o
ver-eagerness. Sure. Sounds like fun. What time?
Eight is good. We eat dinner late because we stay up late. Mom makes sushi.
Score! Then I’ll be there at eight. Let me know if I can bring anything.
Just yourself, comes the reply. That’s all I need.
I fall back onto the bed, unable to stop smiling.
…
Darryn’s words settle deep in my heart, carrying me through the week until I can see him again. Christmas comes and goes like it usually does—lots of food, lots of gifts, lots of family time. I try to soak it all in. Maybe it’s being out to my parents, maybe it’s everything that’s gone on with Darryn, but the holidays feel fragile this year. Like a bubble stretched tight, just before it pops.
Everyone’s fine with me going to Darryn’s for New Year’s. Annie’s not much for partying anyway, and Mom and Dad usually stay home and have their own champagne toast.
“Give him our best, dear,” Mom says when I head out. “And drive safely!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, ever the dutiful son.
My left leg won’t stop bouncing during the hour-long trip to the Kanekos’ house—nearly twice as long as it usually takes, thanks to all the revelers heading out to celebrate. I pull into the driveway fifteen minutes later than I planned, and I’ve barely gotten out of the car when the front door opens and Darryn stands there in the soft glow of the porch light.
My breath catches. He’s dressed casually, jeans and a T-shirt, socks on his feet. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and the light in his eyes as he smiles at me carries me forward, feeling as if my feet aren’t even touching the ground.
I swallow and throw one hand up in a wave as I walk toward him, trying to keep a mantra of just friends running through my head.
It doesn’t work all that well, but I’m trying.
Three hours later, I’m stuffed full after Mrs. Kaneko’s noodles—Darryn’s dad had explained that toshi-koshi soba were traditional on New Year’s Eve, symbolizing long life—and the green tea ice cream we had for dessert. We’d even done a gift exchange, Darryn’s parents offering me a traditional gift of a small decorated envelope filled with yen, which they tell me are called otoshidama. Before I can feel bad about not bringing them a gift, Darryn laughs and says the gifts are traditionally for children, and the money inside adds up to only a few US dollars. “Think of it as a party favor,” he suggests, so I smile and thank his parents.
Darryn’s face lit up when he opened the new insulated water bottle I’d picked out for him—it was designed to be easy to use one-handed. That went nicely with the T-shirt he gave me, which pictured a cartoon brain tumbling on a gym mat with the caption “Mental Gymnastics.” Nothing awkward or too much, to my great relief.
Now, with midnight fast approaching, I’m settled on the sofa opposite Darryn, his parents in their chairs off to one side, as one of the midnight countdown shows flashes across the television in front of us. None of us is paying it much attention, though. We’re much too involved in what has to be the most cutthroat game of Mahjong in history. Though if all Japanese women play the way Mrs. Kaneko does, our version could be relatively tame.
Either way, the rest of us are losing. Badly. I have an excuse, considering I’d never played Mahjong in any form except the basic computerized version before tonight. But Darryn and his dad aren’t faring any better than I am.
I’ve lost track of what time it is when Mrs. Kaneko beats us, again, and Mr. Kaneko throws in the towel—or the tiles. “All right, that’s all the fun I can handle for one night.” He slaps his hands onto his thighs and then pushes to his feet. “Come along, my dear. Let’s leave the boys to it.”
I blink up at him. “Not waiting until midnight?”
He winks. “We prefer to celebrate on our own.”
My cheeks heat, but he laughs. “We’ll have more celebration tomorrow. Ozoni for breakfast. Grilled mochi and vegetable soup, basically,” he explains for my benefit. “We pull out all the Japanese stops on New Year’s Day.”
“Grant, you’re welcome to stay if you like.” Mrs. Kaneko offers a small smile and nods toward the hall. “The guest room’s made up.”
I’m surprised but return her smile. “I’ll probably head home pretty soon after midnight, but thank you for the offer.”
She nods again. “Good night, boys.”
She heads down the hall, and Mr. Kaneko gives us a smile and a wink. “Don’t get too crazy out here.”
Darryn laughs. “We’ll keep it down. See you in the morning.”
His dad disappears down the hall, and then it’s just us, the silent Times Square celebration on the TV, and the glasses of sparkling grape juice on the coffee table in front of us. I reach for mine and take a sip, but as I set it back down, Darryn slides from his chair.
“C’mon,” he says. “It’s almost midnight. Let’s go watch the neighbors set off fireworks.”
I lift an eyebrow but follow him onto the front porch. Darryn sits on the porch swing at one end and pats the seat next to him.
“Best view in town, promise.”
He smiles, and there’s nothing on earth that could make me say no.
I settle onto the swing, leaving as much space between us as I can without shoving myself up against the arm. I don’t want to crowd him, but I don’t want to look like I don’t want to be anywhere near him. If I let myself do what I really want, I’d slide right up to his side and wrap my arm around his shoulders to keep him as close as possible.
I mentally shake off the image and give the swing a tiny push. “Is this how you usually spend New Year’s Eve?” I ask. “Swingin’ on the porch, watchin’ the neighbors blow shit up?”
Darryn chuckles. “Sometimes.” He pushes one foot against the floor to keep the swing going. “Some years it’s too cold. Sometimes I don’t want to stay up. Most years, though, yeah. We moved here when I was ten, and probably six or seven times I’ve spent midnight on the porch.”
I tilt my head up at a whistling sound, and sure enough, a few seconds later a small multicolor burst lights the air a few houses down the street. “I guess the show’s gotten better since they legalized fireworks?”
“A little, yeah. They had some pretty fancy stuff even ten years ago.”
We fall silent as a few more fireworks flash in the air and cheers go up in response. The pungent smell and smoke drift our way, but there’s enough of a breeze to keep it from hanging around long enough to irritate.
The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but I’m trying to come up with something to break it when the partiers down the street start counting. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”
I don’t know how accurate their count is, but I turn my head toward Darryn anyway, only to find him much closer than he’d been minutes before. He’s smiling softly and his gaze captures me, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. My heart pounds, a hot flush runs over my skin, and all concepts of just a friend evaporate from my mind.
The revelers cheer as their countdown ends, and for that moment, everything in the world is right.
“Happy New Year,” I whisper.
“Happy New Year.” Darryn’s smile slips and his gaze flicks down to my lips. I catch my breath, but before I can do anything, he leans forward to kiss me.
It’s a brief thing, a press and slow retreat, and I don’t have a chance to kiss him back. His hand wraps around mine and he smiles again.
“I’m not ready yet,” he says, his voice still soft, though the words echo through my head as if he’d shouted. “But I trust you not to hurt me. And I’ll get there. I promise.”
I flip my hand over to squeeze his fingers with mine. “I’ll be waiting,” I murmur back. “I promise.”
Darryn inches closer and leans his head on my shoulder, and I swallow back a million words I want to say. We’ve said the things that matter most.
Inste
ad, I settle in to watch the rest of the neighbors’ fireworks show, no longer feeling the chill in the air. All the warmth I need, I have right here with Darryn by my side, his hand held securely in mine.
Chapter Fourteen
“That’s the last of it.”
Mr. Kaneko sets two bags on the foot of Darryn’s bed and gives me a smile. “Thank you for all your help, Grant. I don’t know if we could have gotten everything upstairs on our own.”
I shrug. “It’s no problem. I’m glad to have Darryn back.”
Darryn perches on the edge of his bed. “Man. I didn’t realize how out of shape I am. It’s not like I even carried anything.” Still on orders for no heavy lifting, he’d been relegated to nothing more than his laptop bag and his brand-new rolling backpack, a Christmas gift from his parents.
“Slacker.” I grin as he makes a face at me, knowing that without his dad there, he’d probably have flipped me off instead.
“All right.” Mr. Kaneko smiles. “I’ll leave you boys to it.” He steps over to clap Darryn on his good shoulder. “We’ll see you Friday.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Darryn stands and pulls his father into a hug. I don’t remember ever seeing him do that before. They’ve always seemed to have a good relationship, but they seem closer now. I’m dying to ask for details, but that’s not exactly how I want to lead off our first day back as roommates.
They separate, and then Mr. Kaneko turns to me, hand out to shake. “Grant.”
I take his hand. “Mr. Kaneko.”
He smiles. “Call me Ken, son.”
Before I can recover from the surprise, he’s closing the door behind him. I turn to Darryn, who looks half a second away from a laugh. “Did that just happen?”
“Congrats,” Darryn says. “You’re the first of my friends to ever get first-name basis from my dad.”
I’m still stunned but I try to shake it off. “Okay, then.” I frown. “What’s that about Friday?”
“Oh.” Darryn waves toward the brace on his wrist. “We got my physical therapy sessions scheduled for late Friday afternoons. Since it’s up near the house, Mom’s going to pick me up after class, and I’ll spend the night with them and come back Saturday.”