Page 119 of Hard to Judge

I barely contain the snarl scratching its way up my throat. If he touches Hota, I swear we’ll be taking a detour to the car wash to remove the blood from the seats.

“You have no social presence,” Nate says, looking at Hota.

“He may not be on social media, but he madeThe Timestoday,” Hailey offers. The tips of her red lips turn into a sinister point. “It was a marvelous article. It made me very proud.”

Hota’s eyes lift from the floor for the first time. “Really?”

“Of course, daisuki da yo.” The points of her smile file down, leaving only the tenderness of her words.

I love you.

He smiles for the first time in hours, and a weight lifts off my shoulders until his gaze slides to me. His smile falters. The weight lands on my chest.

Is he worried I’ll be upset she loves him?

I’m not. I’ve known for weeks now, even before she told him so.

I love him with my every fucking breath. Why wouldn’t she? I thought I made my feelings on the matter pretty freaking clear after the game and their exchange of I love yous.

“What’s the article about?” Nate asks, and then keys into Hailey’s words. “Wait, you speak Japanese?”

“Hota and Arlo are both fluent.” Our lover smiles at us. “I’m learning.”

“Quickly,” Hota and I both say in unison.

Nate’s gaze zeros in on me, and then slides to Hota. His mouth opens like he wants to say something. The car stops outside the restaurant and the valet opens the door.

We make our way into the fine dining establishment, where the hostess takes our coats, then escorts us directly to our table.

At the four top, I pull out Hailey’s chair for her and the others wait for her to sit. It gives me enough time to shift around the table and pull out the chair directly across from me. “Hota.”

I swear I see a smirk before he maneuvers around Nate, and then me, and sits in the chair. I help him scoot it in. I even pop the napkin and lay it on his lap.

Nate clears his throat. “Are you going to get my chair?”

“No.” I sit and greet the server who’s arrived to take our drinks.

Nate and I carry most of the lunch conversation. Hota is deep in his head, and Arlo is holding himself together with secondhand twine.

Every time Nate turns his impressive body toward Hota or mentions their time at boarding school and college, it feels like Arlo is going to snap his silverware in half. Hell, whenever Nate breathes, it feels like Arlo is going to launch himself across the table and wrench the air from his lungs.

I could have taken a stance in the car. Made things crystal clear. I wanted to.

Christ, not climbing on their laps and marking their mouths with my lipstick was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do since the dark room at Crave.

But do it, I must.

Arlo, for all his bravado, needs to cut the twine and make his feelings known. Not for Nate. Who cares about that guy? He has to do it for Hota.

Hota’s insecurity in our relationship is the only thing keeping him from telling Nate to fuck right off.

“Koibito, what are your plans for your new real estate?” I slip a bite of soufflé into my mouth and lick it quite suggestively.

My lover’s throat bobs. I bet he’s hard right now. Between Arlo playing footsie with him for the last hour and my more subtle shenanigans.

“I’m sure he doesn’t know yet,” Nate pipes up. “This was all so sudden.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin and sets it on his plate, signaling he’s finished eating, and turns to Hota. “You’ll need to come to Oklahoma plenty to work things out, formulate a plan, and execute. You can stay with me.”

“Hota always has a plan,” Arlo says, finishing off his drink. “He wouldn’t have bought it without a vision.”

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