How to Date Japanese Idols (The Tenshi Series)

by Cilia Jaspers

  “Wait a second,” she said and he could hear her moving and then a faint click. Her light. She moved again, and he knew she must be getting in bed.

  “All right, Yoh. What do you want to talk about. I’m all yours.” She said this with exaggerated comfort. Whadaya wanna talk about.

  Gakino laughed. “Since this is going so well already, why don’t you try calling me Gakino?”

  “I thought you said you were going to ask me for one thing?”

  “Can’t you just consider it part of the one-hour-friendship package?”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal there, Gakino, buddy.” She laughed. A short high-pitched sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “I can’t believe this. First name basis with Gakino Yoh.”

  “I couldn’t believe Tenshi when it first started either. Sometimes, I can barely believe it now. But it’s turned out well, don’t you think?”

  “Obviously. I did wait in a line all night if you’ll remember.”

  “I do remember. And was it worth it?”

  Was it worth it?

  Eloise wanted to say something sophisticated, something like Well, that remains to be seen, something, anything that would make the question mean less than it did, but her throat was too tight and her mouth was too dry. When her silence stretched out, Yoh laughed. He asked, “Can I take that as a yes?”

  At that point, she managed to whisper a yes, and somehow that had made them both laugh and the laughter helped her relax.

  They’d talked about nothing and everything. One hour turned into two and then two became three. And it was sort of wonderful.

  The only problem was that every few minutes, whenever there was silence, her brain whispered to her about how he’d probably done this before, with other women. Each comfortable lull in conversation filled her with doubts. Even in the peace after laughing, she wondered, how many other women had been given a phone? How many other women had he talked to late into the night? How many other women had heard Yoh whisper sweet dreams?

  She desperately wanted to hold on to this, to treasure it, but she was afraid. Honest to goodness terrified.

  It all seemed too good to be true. And she had a lifetime of learning this lesson.

  When something seemed to good to be true it always was.

  When they’d told her that she was finally being adopted, that she would have a real family, a father, a mother, a home, she could scarcely believe it. They’d told her about the senator and his wife, and she’d used the school’s library every afternoon pouring over photos and reading stories. She’d hardly been able to breath, she’d been so excited. Her smile made her face hurt as she clicked through images of them. He was a family man. That was his platform. She understood that now, but back then? The senator and his wife had seemed like Christmas and a dozen birthdays all rolled into one.

  They had arrived to take her home. Hugs and kisses and as perfect as any photo-op could be. When she’d seen her room in their home it was pure magic. Somehow, they already knew who she was. And, already, they loved her. No pinks. No frills. This was not just any girl’s room. It was her room. Filled with books and science kits and her old things placed in with the new. The walls were a cheery yellow and the bedspread was a deep green, a shade she loved. There was a rocking chair, too. And hadn’t she always dreamed of that? Of a mother that would rock in it as she read to her at night? And they had known. Somehow they had known. Of course, what had seemed a miracle then had just been the effect of greasing the right palms and asking the right questions to staff, foster parents, social workers, and psychologists. Still, as planned and on cue, she had shed tears and held onto her new parents as if she feared they might disappear. It had made a wonderful photo.

  The senator had it framed and hung in the entry way of their perfect colonial home. As a child she had stared at it when she displeased the senator, wondering how she might return to a moment before she’d disappointed him. Later, as she grew up and understood her place, it had served as a reminder of how things truly were and what she actually meant to him. It was a reminder of how terribly wrong things could go. And usually she was grateful for it.

  But tonight, when Gakino had whispered sweet dreams, Eloise, she wished she could foolishly let go and just believe. Because, even if it wasn’t real, she wanted to pretend.

  God help her, she wanted to pretend.

  No matter what. Even if she was wrong.

  She wanted to pretend for as long as she could.

  CHAPTER 6

  Gakino had one chance to make her see him in the right light. He needed the perfect place, the perfect food, and the perfect mood. He wanted to make her laugh, but also be serious. He wanted to make her blush, but feel comfortable while doing it. He wanted her to feel safe with him, but just a little nervous about what he was thinking or doing. So he spent the day planning the perfect date.

  What dating experience would say “You like me, and I like you?” Shun had said that she had seen him as a child the last time they went to dinner. Was he like another student to her? Did she read what he’d written in Jane Eyre and want to correct his grammar? Shun had told him to be more manly. Gakino was trying to listen.

  He’d never been like Shun. He was not an Idol in the traditional sense. He didn’t smolder. He didn’t give looks or say words that made fans sigh or prompted interview questions about what he thought was the best quality in a wife. In interviews people asked him about things like the spirit of their listeners. They asked him what he enjoyed most about concerts. They asked him to do shows about dates with animals, not girls. He didn’t sing the songs about love. He sang them about friendship and hope for the future.

  How did you get a girl to like you with comedy and choreography?

  *

  A pile of clothes rose high on her bed, and shirts, skirts, and pants littered almost every available surface. Her only mirror was in her bathroom, so each rejected outfit was shed along the way back to her closet. Everything she owned was too tight or too lose or too fluffy or too frilly, too girly or too masculine, simply too something to wear.

  A first official date came with certain expectations.

  There should be some kind of guidebook, except she knew the guidebook. She was a gender studies scholar which meant she knew all the reasons women acted and dressed a certain way. The basic rule was that the man had to be more masculine than the girl by a certain margin, and that was the problem.. She couldn't be sure what Gakino was planning to wear. If he showed up with even a dollop of idol charm, her standard jeans and all-stars weren't going to work. Next to the shiny, sleek angles of an idol's shoe, her worn sneakers would make them both ridiculous.

  She had this pink, semi-transparent shirt. It was silky material in the front and, in the back, it was thin cotton, just thin enough to see through in high light. She could wear a white tank under that. Pink was girly enough, and the light t-shirt fabric would be a little flirty.

  But what could she wear it with? Normally she wore it to dress functions with pearls and dress slacks and heels, but her official armor wasn't going to work here. A skirt would be ok. She had a t-shirt skirt that would work. The cotton was swishy enough to be girly and flirtatious, but it was still athletic enough to not feel like she was playing dress up. Besides, she wore it all the time around the house or running to the store. She normally paired it with a t-shirt and flip-flops, going for something casual. She walked over to her shoes. Ugh.

  Sneakers or heels or her flats for school. All black. Ok, jeans and heels? But what if he wanted to go walking? She walked well in heels, but no matter how much she liked them, after a few hours her toes hurt and her back, too. She didn't want to look like those sad girls walking around the night market, hobbled by heels. When it was woman vs wardrobe, the woman always lost in heels. She did have some cork, peep-toes.

  Oh. god. She was using words like peep-toes.

  She sat on the bed, and put her head in her hands.

  *

  The hotel
room looked like the inside of a dry cleaner. Plastic bags from stores littered the floor and garment bags lay open or crunched up on any surface he could find. Shirts, pants, belts, jackets, and hats lay all over the place. When he’d opened his suitcase, everything had seemed too normal or too flashy to wear on a date with a girl he wanted to see him as a man of interest. Everything was too relaxed or sparkly. The suit he had seemed like something he’d wear to a formal interview on a news station or to a wedding. He thought he’d worn it to an interview once at least. His jeans seemed to say he was too immature. The shirts he had either said ‘I can’t wait to get my driver’s permit’ or ‘Don’t you like how the spotlights reflect off of my chest?’

  He had to find a way to seem manly, interesting, and relaxed.

  If he showed up dressed like a 17-year-old boy she would think he wanted to ride on the back of her scooter and be taken out for ice cream later. He wanted to take her out for ice cream...though he wouldn’t mind riding on the scooter either.

  He looked at some of the new clothes he’d bought earlier in the day. Should he wear the long-sleeve black t-shirt with the vee that seemed to go down to his belly button? Would it be sexy or would he spend all night trying not to freeze? What about wearing a button-up shirt? Or would he look like his Dad?

  He had to meet her soon and he still had no idea what to wear. Most of this stuff was something he would never wear in the first place and in the second place would look better on Shun or even Sano.

  He didn’t like worrying about this kind of thing. He would rather leave it to the stylists. He was more concerned with focusing on his job, his life. But suddenly he had to figure out how to change his life into clothes.

  He stared intently at the clothes fountain in his room. He would wear the black shirt. But he was putting a green shirt underneath it. He wanted to be a man to her, not nipples. He could reasonably wear that with his dark green cargo pants right? They were comfortable and familiar to him without looking too casual. Maybe he should wear the khaki pants?

  What about shoes? Gakino sighed audibly. What was he supposed to wear? His clothes were too casual to wear nice shoes right? But did flip flops say man to a woman? His boots would be too warm in Taiwan. He had some chocolate brown loafers that might work. Did he just think ‘chocolate brown?’ When had brown become anything more than light or dark?

  “Moiiyo . . .” Gakino tossed the pants he’d been holding on the bed and stared at the ceiling of the hotel room, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

  *

  Gakino pulled the car smoothly up in front of Eloise’s building, parallel parking with the ease of someone who had lived in a city for some time. This would be the first time Gakino and Eloise had seen each other since his ‘grounding.’ So, he had decided to listen to Shun, but he needed to feel like he was in his own skin to even try. It was the man that mattered, not the clothes. Though they’d been talking for weeks, would it be strange and awkward when they were together? Would she still be there when he knocked on her door? Would she call him Gakino? Or Yoh?

  He stood in front of her door, his hand raised and ready to knock. He didn’t hesitate to knock, his fist falling naturally and easily against the door. But his mind swirled with what might happen after that.

  Gakino was filled with relief when she opened her door. She was dressed in some kind of a skirt that looked comfortable, but waved cutely with her movement. She was wearing red All-Stars that somehow matched the girly pink shirt she was wearing. She wore a tank top under the see-through fabric and that somehow made him happy. They matched.

  He started to smile and point out how cute they looked together. Then, remembering that he was supposed to be manly and mysterious, he tried to hold as still as possible and keep a serious, blank expression on his face. His nose itched and restless energy surged through his knees and toes.

  “Ready?”

  “I guess so.” Eloise locked her door, looking up at him with a hesitant glance before they walked back down to his car.

  *

  Eloise hadn’t expected him to drive a car. Well, she had expected that they’d be in a car of some sort, but she hadn’t expected that he’d be driving. He was so long, his legs barely seemed to fit under the steering wheel and his knees were tilted out toward the door and her. It was utterly adorable to see him folded into the car and strangely comfortable at the same time.

  She looked out the window to save herself the embarrassment of staring. When he’d shown up, she’d been relieved. He had come, just as he’d promised. And better still? They matched. Whether by cosmic design or sheer coincidence, they matched from their All-Stars (his were dark green) to their nice casual clothes. She had relaxed just a little bit in that moment. Enough to push her worry to the side for now.

  “Where are we going Gakino?” She heard his amused chuckle with surprise. “What?”

  “I’m glad you decided to call me Gakino tonight.”

  “Gakino. That’s who you are right? That’s who you want to be? With me?” She felt stupid as soon as she added the last part.

  “That’s me. And I want to be with you.”

  Eloise nodded and looked straight ahead, watching as the car turned into a parking garage in little Europe.

  “Where are we going, Gakino?”

  “You’ll see. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “It’s all about what you want.”

  “What I want?”

  “Yeah.” Gakino looked over at her as he pulled the car into park and smiled. He seemed so pleased with himself. How could she not be pleased with him, too?

  *

  By the time they got to the sushi restaurant, Gakino was busy thinking about how cute Eloise would be sitting across from him. They would sit at a table, not the sushi bar. He wondered what she would choose. It was important to him to see what she would decide on without any input from him. Would she like what he liked? Would she choose for herself or them both? Or, would she choose not to choose, instead leaving it all up to him? You could tell a lot about a girl by the way she ordered sushi.

  When they sat down, Gakino opened up the sushi menu pretending to see what they should order. He wanted to appear like the kind of man she would notice. The silence at the table made him wonder if he should order for her? He couldn’t decide. Luckily, she took the decision out of his hands, pointing to what she wanted for the waitress. He did the same.

  When the sushi came, the quiet had gone from companionable silence to awkward crises. He knew he had to do something. Picking up his chopsticks, Gakino moved the tuna roll off of his plate toward Eloise. Feeding your girlfriend was pretty smooth. Suddenly, the tuna roll dropped off his chopsticks with the weight of a brick into the wasabi plate. It splashed a little bit of the soy sauce and settled into the soft bed of wasabi. Of course this would happen to him. Only he could be the victim of such stupidity and clumsiness. He started to laugh, his throat perched on a high note.

  No, no. Stay cool, Gakino, he told himself. You can do this. Be cool.

  He pulled his lips together, fighting the grin that was trying to break across his face at his complete and utter chopstick failure. He looked up and saw Eloise’s surprised face and her suspicious look in his direction.

  “I saw...that you...didn’t like it. You didn’t like it right? So I put it there. You didn’t want that, right?” His lips quivered. He had to hold it together. Serious, boyfriend-material guys did not giggle at the sound and sight of plopping sushi spectacular. He tried to paste a cool smirk on his face like one he’d seen on Shun.

  _Eloise laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes shining. Not a good sign.

  “You’re adorable.” She laughed again. “This is fun. I was worried that we would be uncomfortable around each other. You’re this...this super star, and I’m just some random fan. And well . . .” she hesitated, shaking her head.

  “And what? What were you going to say?”

  “
You’re one of the beautiful sparkly people. Do you know what I mean?”

  He shook his head.

  “I mean, I know you have a mom and a dad and a job, like most people. But you don’t ever seem normal,” she raised her hands, making quote signs as she said normal.

  “In your concerts, in your TV shows, you—you especially—seem...I don’t know how to explain it. You’re larger than life. Happy and charming and larger than life. And here you are. At a normal restaurant. Walking around like a normal guy on a...well, sort of on a date...and dropping food, and it just feels good. It feels normal.”

  “This isn’t sort of a date, Eloise. It is a date.”

  “Ok.”

  “It’s a date, Eloise.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Hearing Eloise agree, he picked up the sushi again and leaned over the table, his long arms and torso stretched toward her.

  Trying to give her sushi again, he placed the tuna near her mouth, and watched her slowly open her lips. He closed his eyes for a second, grateful that she couldn’t possibly have any idea of what he was thinking at the moment. He opened his eyes and looked at her, and she was blushing, chewing the tuna, her cheeks puffed up cutely. She kept breaking eye contact. She coughed after she swallowed. Then she coughed again, nervously. And Shun would have told him her nervousness was good.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, taking a sip of water.

  “My pleasure,” he said, smiling because her blush was spreading down her neck.

  “What were you thinking about just now?”

  “Stop smiling at me like that. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I was just eating the spiciest tuna in the world. That’s it.” But she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “What were you thinking, Eloise?”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him for a second, and then she broke into a smile. “What were you thinking about?”

  *

  Eloise waited patiently for his answer, entertained by his lips pursing as he clearly searched for what to say.