by Cynthia Dane
“Yes. I get license when I go.”
“What city?”
Before he could answer, the owner came back over and asked us how our food was so far. I guess Hadrian must have forgotten what I asked, because he changed subjects once the owner was gone again.
“I say you are pretty because you are… really pretty.”
If you could hear him in real life, you would understand why I was so taken aback with that relatively simple statement. Hadrian struggled to come up with the adequate words, but his brain failed him. Even when he showed me his dictionary purporting that I was beautiful, gorgeous, radiant, I still preferred the words that had come out of his mouth, because they had been with his voice. I’m sure I would have loved the words in Turkish as much, but since I couldn’t understand them, nor had he said them… wait…
“Say it again, but in your home language.”
His shy smile as he considered it killed me inside. When he spoke… God, the words! They were definitely Turkish. I had heard enough Turkish pop music to make those sounds out. Too bad I didn’t understand any of them.
Well, I didn’t understand them on the word-by-word level, but I understood the intent behind them. This man was saying that I was so beautiful that I knocked him off his feet and prevented him from speaking like a coherent, intelligent man. He had no senses around me. Instead, all he could think about was pleasing me, emotionally and physically. He wanted to lose himself in me. He wanted to stay up all night with me and discover what it meant to lock out the rest of the world and not give a single fuck about what other people thought.
I got all that from one sentence in his native language. Because when a man can speak confidently? God. Right in the heart. And the loins. If he thought I was killing him? He truly had no idea what he did to me.
After our all-American dinners, he asked me if we should go for a walk. By then it was almost seven, and if we followed the same pattern from last time, we would get coffee, walk, and then ahem.
Except I wanted to make sure we stayed in my neighborhood. I could already see his eyes scanning the area for a love hotel. Hold on, man, there were other things we had to do first. Put your wallet away! Not everything needed to be paid for.
We walked up and down the neighborhood, since unfortunately there were no parks in the area. There was, however, a Shinto shrine that still had open grounds even though no clergy were present. We sat on a bench as the air grew colder. I worked up the nerve to ask him back to my place.
Instead, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. The man who didn’t like impromptu touching, even from people he liked – he kissed me in public!
“What was that for?” I giggled, because that was how damn giddy I was. “I could kiss you too, you know.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Why was he apologizing? “I am very excited today.”
“Really? About what?”
His look was more than puzzling.
“Doushite?” Sometimes it was easier to speak in Japanese.
“Because soon I go to America. And because I am with you tonight.”
Ahhh! Flames of embarrassment on my face! The sides of them!
“Maybe I see you in America one day.”
Wouldn’t that be something else? I had no idea where he was going. He never asked me where I was from. We knew how futile those hopes were. With our luck, he’d be moving to Miami and I would be in Portland. Or, even worse, he would move somewhere like San Francisco or Los Angeles. So close, yet still so damn far away.
Why would we do that to ourselves? This needed to stay a fling. My vacation fling, his pre-move fling. We were in one of those indie films that make you feel like you’re on the precipice of a happy ending, only to have it yanked away in the final scene. Oh, come on. Not a tragedy! More like bittersweet: the couple get on their separate planes with smiles on their faces, but never see each other again.
Hadrian smiled. Stared at his feet in the night and smiled. Whatever he was thinking about… was it about me? Was he excited to be with me again? Was he pretending, like I was, that this was the beginning of a fun relationship that could one day be something more?
I nudged him. “It’s cold, huh?”
“Yes, so cold.”
“Maybe we should go.”
“We go?”
He could say that phrase all night as far as I was concerned. “Sure. You want to go back to my place?”
Even if he understood me, he probably didn’t believe me. I was going to have to bring out the big language guns.
“Atashi no heya ni kaerimashou ka?”
Hadrian’s eyes widened. Oh, yeah, he definitely understood me now. I took him by the hand and gently pulled him off the bench.
“Daijyoubu,” I reassured him. “It’s not far.”
We were actually at the shrine a two minute walk away from my share house. I wasn’t sure Hadrian was going to make it, though. He kept looking at me as if I asked for the impossible. Suppose I made the grand mistake of telling him that I live in a share house. Hadn’t he once told me that he hates living with other people and having to listen to them exist?
Yeah, I knew what I was doing. My only hope was that he would play along.
My neighbors were having one of their weekly parties where they eat homecooked food and drink a fuckton of wine. I’ve hung out with them before, but usually my schedule conflicts with such things. And honestly, one of the reasons I went on vacation to a country that covets personal isolation is because I was tired of having to do groups multiple times a week like I do here in America.
That said, I was happy to see them. Unlike Hadrian, who did not like having to follow me all the way toward the kitchen to get to my room.
“Hey!” My Turkish neighbor waved at us. She approached… and stopped the moment she saw the mysteriously handsome stranger following me. “Oh, you have a guest? Nice. You can come hang out with us if you want.” The others raised their wineglasses behind her.
I opened my bedroom door and ushered Hadrian inside. “Be right back,” I hissed before closing the door again.
My neighbors raised their eyebrows at me.
“Your boyfriend?” asked the Turkish neighbor.
“Kinda.” I lowered my voice. “Is our wonderful neighbor and his girlfriend in tonight?”
She snorted. “Yes. We were going to party very loudly, just for them. They never join us because they are so busy.”
“Don’t suppose y’all could hit up the karaoke place down the street for a few hours?”
“You have plans with your boyfriend?” She leaned against the wall. “Where is he from?”
I grinned. “Greece. But I think originally from Turkey.”
“Turkey! Really? He speaks Turkish?”
“Suuuure does.” If only she knew what kind of Turkish he often spoke to me.
“Wow. So you gonna have a nice night, huh?”
“Yup. Nice and loud, if you know what I mean.”
She did. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead with sudden understanding. “I see. Well, maybe we can go to karaoke for a while. I think we’re drunk enough to enjoy it. Of course, we won’t invite our certain neighbor.”
I winked at her before opening my bedroom door. “Thanks.”
My door couldn’t blot out the others too well, but that only allowed me to talk to Hadrian without being heard. The man stood in the middle of my narrow room with a look of perpetual confusion and hands respectfully in his pockets.
“My neighbors won’t be here much longer,” I assured him. “Sorry my room is small.”
The voices in the hallway grew louder as people grabbed jackets and shoes before heading out the main entrance. Hadrian waited until the front door slid shut. “We are alone?”
“Oh, yeah.” I took both of his hands and lured him toward my long, twin-sized bed. Perfect for forced proximity, hm? “We’re as alone as we can be.”
The shitty neighbors must have been asleep for them to be so quiet right now. I guessed it
wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Chapter 11
If Hadrian was hungry for me on our first date? He was famished now.
I take a lot of the credit, honestly. He knew how game I was. He knew what I was down to do. He even knew how damn good I felt inside. With the awkwardness of a first time together out of the way, there was no reason for us to not go straight from first base to third. After all, I had been making myself silly thinking of this man’s assets. If he needed help getting hard, I was his girl!
“Wow,” he said with his usual fervor as I grabbed him through his jeans. “Already?”
“What? You wanna watch a movie and eat popcorn?” I nipped that goatee as if it were grown for me. “You want to make me wait? ‘Cause I don’t think you want to wait.”
“Nooo.” He flopped down against my bed. The frame shook beneath his muscular weight. “No waiting. Just surprise. You are interesting.”
I laughed.
“Is it American style?”
Oh, I’m sure he would love to think all American women were like me. After all, he was moving there! “It’s my style.”
He pulled me down on top of him, the brute, sexual force of his action turning me on until I almost forgot we weren’t totally alone in the share house. “I like your style,” he said. “It’s good.”
Would it be okay if I kissed him first? It better have been. Because I was going to show that man how a real kiss worked.
It was not my first time getting dirty in a small bed. I had gone to college, after all. (No further comment on that.) I knew how to maximize the space and make the most out of a wall coming for you on one side. For one, you could use that wall to brace the bottoms of your feet against. Especially handy when you had a strong man going fucknuts on your chest because hell yeah, you’ve got big tits and your man is totally bonkers for breasts.
I daresay Hadrian gave them a lot more attention than he did the other night when he was too desperate to get inside of me to give me the attention I truly deserved. He wasn’t shy about sucking both of my nipples until they were too erect to be real. He didn’t even hold back from doing at least one thing I had never done before – take a cock between them.
I wish you could have seen the smug look on his face as he fucked my cleavage. It was probably a dream come true for him.
A dream that apparently ended with him coming everywhere on my chest, but I wasn’t interested in that. It wasn’t going to make me loud enough for my plan.
“I can think of better places for you to stick that thing.” Yeah. My pussy.
Ladies and gentlemen who may be reading this adventure, I am happy to report that Hadrian managed to bring one crucial thing along with him that night. A condom. A beautiful, glorious condom that probably actually fit him this time! I didn’t even have to get the ones that I bought the other day! (Good thing, because I honestly had no idea where they were.)
“How you want?” I loved it when his voice became as deep as my need for him. His eyes glazed over. I imagined it took a shitton of concentration to get English words out of his mouth. In a perfect world, he would be talking dirty in one of his more native languages instead of one of the only ones I knew.
“Hard,” I muttered. “Give it to me hard.”
Hadrian didn’t say anything. The man certainly didn’t have to. I could see his intent in his dark eyes, the sneer of accomplishment on his lips, and the curling of his fingers as they dug into my hips and brought me closer to his.
I didn’t need prompting when it came to being loud that night. I daresay he didn’t either!
Everything I could’ve wanted transpired. The great, riveting sex that pinned me to my bed and made me feel like the most coveted, the most tantalizing woman in the world. The delicious man who had gone out of his way to see me even though he could have moved on to the next woman. The slam of my bed against the wall, of course. And Hadrian? How about the way he roared like a tiger unleashed from its cage when he came the first time, crying out in English, Japanese, some other language my brain couldn’t comprehend because it was too busy processing my climax as well.
My really, really loud climax.
Most women like to say they would be way too embarrassed to know they had an audience while they had sex. Normally, I would’ve been the same way, although after you get busy in a college dorm room a share house isn’t much different… especially when your neighbor is a fuckin’ douche.
Sure enough, I had barely come down from my high when I heard grumbling on the other side of the wall. Couldn’t make it out, nor could I care.
“Wow.” Hadrian could be as pleased with himself as he wanted while I grabbed my phone and plugged in my alarm. “I’m sleepy.”
“Good. You should get some sleep.” I pointed to my alarm. “’Cause we’re getting up in two hours to do it again.”
I think you can figure out the rest.
***
Saying goodbye to Hadrian early the next morning was harder than I expected. This was it. This was absolutely the last time we were ever going to see each other again for the rest of our lives. One thing if this was the first and only time. Except this was the second time. We knew each other better. We had established a relationship, for better or for worse. I was already convinced that I would think of him fondly for the rest of my life. I must have been right, because here I am writing this story!
Still… can you blame me for not wanting to see him go?
I think he had the same feeling, for he took his time getting dressed while the early morning light filtered through my blinds. Next door, my stupid neighbor whined to his girlfriend that he couldn’t sleep. Hadrian glanced toward the wall we shared with that man and said, “He complains too much.”
I laughed. “You feel pretty good about yourself, huh?”
It’s a fact that your foreign language abilities go up when you get laid. Hadrian totally understood me, which he proved when he said, “I feel good with you.”
Damnit. Why did he have to make this harder?
He kissed me goodbye, our lips lingering together now that he wasn’t fueled with the need to consume my whole face. Good for him. I wanted to consume his face if it meant he stayed with me a little longer.
How would I ever meet a man like him back in America? Ugh.
“I enjoy meeting you,” he said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. “Have good trip back to America.”
“I should be telling you to have a safe trip.” I followed him to my door. “You’re the one moving there.”
“Ah, we’ll both have safe trips.”
Hadrian spared me one last smile before showing himself out… and right into my neighbor, en route to make a big, nasty breakfast I would probably have to clean up.
“Sorry,” Hadrian said. My bearded French neighbor stared wide-eyed at this guy who was shorter and leaner than him. It helped that Hadrian walked with that effortless confidence that said I just got laid, bud. I know enough guy speak.
“Uh… I…”
I leaned against my doorway, my sleep shorts and T-shirt so mussed from sex and sleep that I must have looked the blushing sight. “Good morning. Sleep well?”
If I had to let go of Hadrian, then it was only right I got that perturbed look of defeat from the neighbor I hated so damn much. Finally. Vengeance was mine.
Epilogue
Portland somehow managed to be wetter and colder than Japan when I got back one dreary Monday afternoon. My journey was so damn long and ridiculous that I think I slept for a whole week.
I attempted to get back to my usual life.
Work and the holidays gave me something to do and look forward to. Friends were happy to come by to visit and hear my crazy tales of going to bars in Japan and, you know, meeting a few people. They blushed to hear tales of my neighbor who kept me up all night, and not in the fun way. They couldn’t believe it when I let slip how I got back at him.
“Do you have a picture of him?” they always asked. Luckily, Hadria
n had never unmatched from my profile, so I could show off the hot man who turned my life upside down and backward in Japan. Most of my friends agreed that he was fine to look at.
Other things were on my mind as well. After all, a condom had broken when I was with Hadrian, and I had no other forms of birth control on hand. Can you blame me when I say I was a bit obsessed with that fact?
I have opened this story by proclaiming it a Romance based on some crazy real life events. We all know that most life events don’t result in happily ever afters, but Romance stories demand them. Isn’t that why we read them? To know that something like that is possible? To believe, even if for a moment, that our own happily ever afters are out there waiting for us? That we can meet Mr. or Mrs. Right by chance and never see life the same way again?
So I have presented this story as a romance. I fully intend on giving you quite the ending.
Yet that ending didn’t come until late January, when the snow and ice began to thaw after one of the craziest storms Portland had seen in over a decade. Three of my friends approached me to go to the opening of a new restaurant everyone was talking about. Nobody could tell me what kind of food they made, and I didn’t care. I may be one of the pickiest people in the world, but if others are buying, I’ll go anywhere and at least pick at some plates
We hustled in our boots and most stylish jackets to the downtown center, where restaurants vie for prime real estate in a so-called foodie scene. Like I said, I’m a picky eater and nearly impossible to impress when it comes to cuisine. Can’t say I’m proud of it, but those are the cards my taste buds have dealt me. I take what I can get when it comes to good food.
(I prayed that it was Italian. Guess what? I was right!)
“Oh, this is dangerous,” one of my friends said as we were seated in the last available table in a crowded restaurant. “We’re going to end up in a coma from the breadsticks alone.”
God willing, huh? I love me a good carb coma! Is there anything better?
How about the fates conspiring to make one of your dreams come true?