Songs to Make You Stay (Playlist Book 3)

by Jay E. Tria

Shinta struggled to keep his eyes on her face, on the spark of warmth in her eyes that he’d caught through the curtain of wild rain. It was a wonderful thing to see, but so was the way her shirt clung to every line and curve of her body. He lifted his chin a few more degrees. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now. He had a speech to deliver.

  “Why did you even think of coming here at four in the morning?” Jill pressed on.

  “Because I need to see you,” Shinta said simply. “Now. I haven’t seen you since Cebu.”

  Jill rolled her eyes. “It’s only been a day.”

  “Didn’t feel like it.”

  A fresh spark of lightning lit up the sky, followed by its thunder sister after a few seconds, before Jill spoke again. “That’s kind of the point of being on a break. The not seeing each other part.”

  Her eyes were on the puddle pooling around her waterlogged sneakers instead of on him, and Shinta was reminded that this couldn’t be fun for her either.

  “Where were you?” he asked again, more kindly this time.

  “Miki’s house.”

  Shinta felt his eyebrows shoot up to great arcs of why. The calm he’d managed to collect collapsed into miserable shards. “Well, that’s not a visit you make at four in the morning either.”

  “He told me something last night,” she explained, a scowl marring her face. “And then he stalked off before I could get a word in. I couldn’t let him get away with that. I had to talk to him.”

  He didn’t need to hear anymore. The dread of Miki eventually figuring it out had been living at the back of Shinta’s consciousness for a while now. It looks like he did get it this time.

  “Does this have anything to do with how he’s been in love with you for years?”

  Jill’s mouth popped open. “Was I really the only one who didn’t know about that?”

  “I think you’ve been surrounded by pretty boys for too long. Your radar shut down.” Shinta tried to explain, feigning a calmness he did not feel. A tornado of cold air was swirling inside his chest. “Or we can blame Kim. That guy has the kind of intensity that hovers, you know?”

  “Or we can blame me, the idiot. Miss Self Aware.”

  Shinta dared a step forward. “Do you love him back? I mean, that way? Are you in love with Miki too?” His string of questions toppled out of his mouth as the tornado gathered momentum.

  Jill was gnawing her lower lip into a deep plum color. It was all Shinta could do not to grab her shoulders and shake her.

  “All that time last night, and all that time this morning when I was talking to Miki, I knew it. I was going to lose some part of him. Nothing stays the same.” She burst out in laughter, short and sharp, the sound bitter when it reached Shinta’s ears. “So soon after I’ve lost you too. I really thought breaking up was the right thing to do for us, you know? Cut our losses while we’re ahead. But then you’re here now and I’m seeing you and it feels like it was the dumbest decision in the world. So yeah.” She pumped her fists. “All in all, a very fun few days.”

  It was a strange limbo to be in. To feel a ball of heat expand inside his chest, enveloping the swirling cold as he heard that hint, that tiny suggestion that Jill still wanted him. And with that, to feel the gravity of her worries as well, her fears of losing her best friend.

  Shinta stepped forward and took her in his arms, choosing to focus on the one thing he could take care of right now.

  “Come here. Why are we standing in the rain?” He led her under the shelter of the open garage, warmth seeping through his shoulder where her tears fell.

  “This is not the best time for you to come over,” she cried, swiping her tears away with her knuckles.

  “At the break of dawn with a thunderstorm raging? Are you kidding? It’s the best time to come over.”

  “It doesn’t help that you’re soaking wet and I can see through your shirt.”

  “I’m having the same dilemma over here, woman. Believe me.”

  Jill pulled away from him, leaning against the rough wall, her crying down to its last few hiccups. “Did you come to take Julio back?”

  “What? Of course not. Julio belongs with you. He’s like our first child, only you get custody.” Shinta wasn’t sure, but it looked like Jill was on the verge of a fresh round of tears, or of slapping him senseless. Get on with it, you smart ass, he had to remind himself. “I came because I needed to see you. I thought you’d also want to know that I attended my mother’s Creative Writing class yesterday.”

  Jill sniffed. “You went to school? Who made you?”

  “No one made me. It felt like a good day for learning,” Shinta said, his mouth hooking upwards into a grin. “They were working on haikus. I wrote some too and I had an epiphany. A haikupiphany, if you will.”

  Jill snorted. “That’s not going to fly.”

  “Hear me out. It’s really good.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  Shinta inched closer, tightening the knot of his arms around his chest as the aftermath of that standoff under the pelting rain started to seep through his marrow. In front of him, Jill was hugging herself too, hands sliding up and down her arms as fast as they could go. He couldn’t help thinking how it would be a more efficient use of body heat if they could close that last sliver of space between them.

  “I think the key to making a relationship work is to appreciate your person’s life and not try to own it. Just stop trying,” he said instead. It felt good to declare this epiphany. It took him a while, but he got there, hopefully not too late. “That’s why I had to see you before I could see the sun, before I could even attempt to sleep. I wanted to tell you that I appreciate your life.”

  “Oh, um. Thanks?”

  “I love that you move according to your gut,” Shinta plowed on. “I know you worry sometimes that you don’t have a grand plan, but at the end of the day, you still think ‘screw that’ and you do what moves you. What gets you out of bed in the morning. I love you. But I don’t own you, in the same way you don’t own me.”

  “That’s really sweet, Shinta. But I kind of knew that already.”

  “Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly. “First real relationship.”

  He was expecting the shadow to lift from Jill’s eyes, but it was a persistent weight.

  “So we go back to my breakup speech and revise it,” she said. “I will appreciate your life from here, and you will appreciate my life from wherever yours takes you.”

  “That would be true.” Shinta gave a curt nod. “If I didn’t have another haikupiphany.”

  “You know that term is distracting me from the serious business that is this conversation.”

  Shinta was shivering, and Jill was too, her bottom lip shaking with each word she exhaled. He could feel the drops of rain sliding down his skin like arctic sweat, numbing his flesh. He gave in, took that last step and pulled Jill against him. She sighed against the hollow of his throat, her breath warm and welcoming.

  “I don’t think I ever owned my life before.” His nose pressed against her cheek. “I started working when I was 16, because some talent scout was scouring shops and food stops near high schools and saw me, thought I was pretty enough to be on TV. I haven’t stopped since then, because my father thought it was a good idea for me to go on. Because my mother was too far away to make a valid contradiction.”

  “But you like what you do.” Jill untangled herself from him so she could see his face. “And you’re good at it.”

  “Sure. I wouldn’t have been at it for this long if I hated it, or if I sucked. But is that all there is? I’m going to be nothing but a professional liar all my life?”

  Fun and fortune and just that. It wasn’t that he felt like the past years of his life were wasted. Not at all. It just felt like things now were hurtling forward, and he wasn’t the one steering. He wanted to be able to set his own pace, to make his own changes. Choose my own adventure.

  “Besides, turns out I like you more than my job.” He cupped his hand on top of he
r wet head. “Turns out I like you the most.”

  Jill’s face was furrowed lines and bright eyes. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I said no to the TV shoot. I said no to more things in Japan and elsewhere for a good year or two. I figured it’s best to do the college thing now, while my brain is young and could still take it. Mother says she can help with paperwork so I can apply at your old university, but only if I can prove myself at least half as smart as you.”

  For a long time, Jill looked at him. Shinta figured she was giving him space to change his mind, to take it all back and say it was nothing but a mean, top-of-the-morning prank. When he did nothing of the sort, she spoke.

  “I hate to break it to you but your father is going to notice if you don’t come back.”

  Shinta snickered. “He is, isn’t he? I figured. So I told him last night.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t get to say much. Hung up on me. Which is pretty much what I expected.”

  Jill nodded slowly, her forehead scrunching into the sort of lines they made when she was breaking plans. “Maybe this is one of those talks that need a few bottles of sake.”

  “I thought so too!” Laughing felt good. Feeling Jill sink deeper against him and laugh with him felt good. “Being with you has been work since day one. But it’s glorious work. Something I’d like to do for a long time.”

  “This is crazy.” Jill shook her head. “You can’t do this.”

  “But I am.”

  “But are you sure?” she insisted, crumpling the ruined cotton of his shirt.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you also drunk?”

  “No, just sure,” he promised. “And now a bit sleepy.”

  “Go home and sleep.” Jill stepped back, pushing against him. “Think about this again. This is your life we’re talking about. And when you wake up—”

  “When I wake up, I’m going to take the first flight out to see my father. Get enough bottles of alcohol around us to make him sign me my life back. Tell him that in the foreseeable future, I’ve chosen to live here, with my mother. And I’ve chosen you.” Shinta clasped her hand and pressed his lips against her palm, against her lips, stealing a whisper of a kiss before he ducked back out into the furious rain. “Then I will come back here, in hopes that you will choose me too.”

  October 18, Sunday, morning

  It turned out his father wasn’t a fan of drama, which Shinta thought was convenient yet hilarious given the industry that Akio thrived in.

  He picked Shinta up from the airport, as was his norm. They drove straight to their favorite bar hidden deep within the snaking alleys of Ueno, and surrounded themselves with cubes of wagyu beef, sticks of skewered chicken, and bottles of sake at eleven in the morning (this was not his norm). Akio wasn’t the kind of person who dawdled. Much like how it was not his habit to say hello before starting a conversation on the phone, it was also not in him to observe the expected pleasantries during a meal.

  “What happened?” he asked right after their first kanpai.

  Shinta waited for the alcohol to slide down his tongue, savoring the smooth burn of the cloudy liquid down his throat before he replied. “You said we’ll do this for as long as I want to.”

  “You don’t want to anymore?”

  Shinta shrugged, and that noncommittal heaving of both shoulders, a motion that came with a smile that lit up his eyes, expressed all he needed to say. Still he said the words.

  “This can’t be the only thing I can do.”

  “No, of course not. But you know how it is with your work. Where you work. You build your name, and if you do it well enough, you’re a name that is chosen.”

  The warning was plain as day. If Shinta stopped now, scattered his ‘no’s around now, he might fade away, much like leaves that turned every season. He was a name now, one that mattered. But he was more than that to the girl he loved, and to him that mattered more.

  “I know,” Shinta said. “But this time I’d like to do the choosing.”

  He thought his father would take time to regard him, to debate with him, or tease him even. He had a persuasive declamation prepared, ready to fire at the first provocation. But Akio’s hand clasped Shinta’s shoulder in the next instant, thumping once.

  Akio let him go, serving himself another helping of sake. He took a swig, swallowing the single gulp without waiting for Shinta. “Your mother is beyond herself with glee, isn’t she?”

  Shinta tried not to smirk as he poured his own shot. The finger that his father pointed in his face was swaying like a weapon. “Triumph more than glee, she says. But that didn’t come from me.”

  “She planned this, didn’t she? She was playing the long game. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. She got one on me, that sly, cunning, beautiful little minx.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Shinta turned his energies to attacking the yielding cuts of red meat with his teeth. The smoky flavor embraced his tongue whereas it did nothing mere moments ago. “But you’re welcome to come back with me and ask her yourself.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Akio took the half-empty bottle and started shaking it in the air. “You keep your silly, happy forever-afters to yourself. I want no part in them.”

  Shinta blew out his cheeks with a sigh. Parents. Sometimes they take their time to learn.

  “It’s not about forever.” He reclaimed the bottle from his father’s fist and refilled their empty glasses. “It’s about work,” he said, handing the shot over, and raising his own for another toast. “And you like work, don’t you?”

  What a pretty face

  They said for years and decades

  I asked, ‘is this it?’ (Shinta)

  October 23, Friday, night

  Something’s got to give, Son had told him. It sounded ominous, like a looming menace, threatening to unhinge the equilibrium of his life as he knew it. Maybe there was a better way to put it. Like some things got to change. Some molds had to be broken, and he had to relish doing the breaking. If done right, maybe he could get what he wanted. Even a few other things he hadn’t thought to ask for.

  Shinta’s backpack was light, empty save for the documents required for him to cross borders, and a set of keys that opened the door to the apartment he’d left behind in Tokyo. He’d left many other things in that place he’d called home. A sensible car that didn’t run too fast, a closet full of clothes he didn’t need to buy, an assortment of friends he liked, and co-workers who spoiled him. There were contracts that needed to be tied up, amended, or cut loose, and there was a father who, although supportive and seemingly overcome, vowed to be waiting for Shinta to change his mind. That hope was frail but it was there. There were many reasons for him to go back, and quite a lot of things to settle, and he would do so gladly in the coming weeks.

  But tonight, as Shinta wove through the thick crowd at Free Fall Festival, his backpack was light, as were his steps, as was the strumming inside his chest.

  He stopped at the edge of the baying mob converged around the aluminum outdoor stage, led to the scene by a trail of cotton candy stands and stalls selling cheap vodka in paper cups. Trainman was up there, the boys and girl and their band’s name up in lights. Behind them fireworks exploded into the smoky, inky sky, the display sadder than most, but a display of sparks and colors nonetheless.

  Shinta borrowed a plastic stool from the friendly guy manning the shawarma cart to his left. He carried it over his head as he fought his way through the riot. When it seemed like he’d found the heart of the mob, he planted the stool on the grass and soft soil, climbed on, and started waving his arms in the air like a drowning man.

  Jill always said it was nearly impossible to recognize someone in a crowd like that. From onstage, the view was of a sea of faceless men and women, and everything else was lights and roars that came in bursts. Shinta was thinking over the merits of diving into the pit, wondering if he could count on the mass of flailing arms t
o carry him to her on the stage.

  Jill jumped before he could.

  His first instinct was sheer panic. He watched in horror as Jill scaled the metal barrier and leaped off, for a moment getting swallowed by the swaying mass. But the spectators nearest her had frozen too—much like Shinta—that it wasn’t much of a challenge for her to run through them. She pelted through crevices between staid bodies, dodging limp arms and shocked mouths.

  When she got to him, she tugged at his elbows, sending him tumbling from his chair, catching his face, his weight in her hands. Shinta saw her eyes—deep swirling pools of galaxies and stars—and only her eyes, when she spoke.

  “I know you,” she said.

  There was nothing else to do really, but to lean down and kiss her. Her kiss felt loaded, questioning. Shinta couldn’t blame her. They hadn’t seen each other, and had barely spoken, in almost a week, busy as he was wrapping up his old life. But as he kissed her back, he knew that for all the things that had to change, one thing did manage to stay the same. The fact that he wanted this kiss—more of it, more from it—and that he wanted this person, for as long as he could have her.

  Jill pulled away, fingers clasping his neck. Shinta felt his mouth slip into a smug grin.

  “Don’t tell me,” he said. “You’ve always wanted to do that.”

  Jill pinched the tender skin of his arm, her face turning stern. “I want you to know, that even if you choose to do this, you can always change your mind. You’re young and amazing, and it’s your life.”

  “I know. But you should know. Life makes more sense when I’m here with you.”

  Bodies were pressing around them, the shock spell from Jill’s dive broken. Backs bore down against Shinta, shoulders crashed against Jill, elbows poking them from every angle. From what sounded like right beside them, Mars’s voice was screaming bloody murder, demanding to reclaim his vocalist from the midst of the horde. All of these reached Shinta as garbled noise and irrelevant motion.

  “Let’s try to do crazy, okay?” he said. “Crazy sounds good, yes?”