Page 11 of Up All Night
Chapter 5
I emerged from the depths of Oji Station with condoms in my bag and more than a twinge of anxiety in my heart.
This was it. Any moment I would meet Hadrian face to face. I’d hear his voice. I’d see his reaction to me. (Oh, God.) I’d get a feel for how he really felt about me. This was, of course, assuming he’d show up and not run at the sight of me.
(I’ve been on some pretty shitty dates, y’all.)
Was he tall? Was he muscular? Did he smell good, or did he smell like tobacco like half of the country? Would he be nice, or would he be distant? All I knew was that he was from a completely different culture than what I was familiar with. Would he expect me to be more conservative? Did that mean he wanted to take things slow?
See? I was already bringing myself down before he arr…
I recognized him instantly.
A young man with a spring in his step came out of the subway exit, eyes searching his surroundings before he took shelter beneath a streetlight and checked his phone – to tell me that he was there? To ask me where I was? To message some other chick he had on standby?
I should have approached him right away, but I was stunned. Because he was…holy shit.
Hadrian-whatever-his-last-name-was exuded a cool confidence that was anything but off-putting. He stood out of people’s way as they passed by, but had a small smile on his chiseled face that was faintly outlined with a healthy and dark goatee. His black leather jacket matched his black jeans and the T-shirt that so casually saidGuy on his day off.He was the kind of man I would have admired from afar and automatically assumed would want nothing to do with me.
Nope. I was on a date with this guy.
I told myself that as I stepped forward and caught his attention. Thank God, he smiled.
“Hadrian?”
“Yes. You must be…” His face blanked. “Uh…”
“M… uh, I mean, Cyndi.” If this guy couldn’t remember my fake name, there was no way he was going to remember my crazy German real name. Besides, maybe it wouldn’t be bad to be Cyndi for a night! “Nice to finally meet you!” Oops. I was lame.
He immediately pointed down the street. “You hungry?”
I had never heard an accent like his before. I was pretty familiar with Japanese accents when speaking English, and he shared a lot of the same mannerisms, telling me that most of the English he had learned was here in Japan and filtered through that experience. Even so, Japanese could not have been his native language, which made me only more curious about his story.
Assuming I would ever learn it. This was supposed to be a one-night stand, after all.
“What kind of food?” I asked, vainly attempting to keep up with his brisk steps. The guy knew where we were going, and we were going to get there quickly. But how was I supposed to get a whiff of his cologne if we were going this fast through a cold November night?
“Italian. You like Italian?”
Music to my ears, Hadrian! “I love Italian. It’s my favorite!”
“Really?” We stopped at an intersection. “It is right there. We go?”
“Hell yeah we go.”
The restaurant was practically empty when we arrived. Our young and surly waitress took one look at us and almost rolled her eyes.“Great. Another couple.”I wondered if she was rolling her eyes at him… bringing another girl to her place of work… maybe she had a crush on him? I mean,Ihad a crush on Hadrian and I was on a date with him.
“You like drink?” He shoved the alcohol menu in front of me. Full disclosure: I’m not a drinker. At all. I never had a sip of alcohol until I was 22 because any outside substance that changes my brain chemistry freaks my shit out. By that time I was more comfortable with imbibing alcohol, but to say I was a lightweight was an understatement. And Ihatedbeer, Japan’s favorite drink.
“Anything but beer is fine,” I said.
“Beer?”
“Anythingbutbeer.” I needed to simplify my English more. I honestly wasn’t used to having this issue with other foreigners in Japan, almost all of whom commanded English like it was their natal language, even if it wasn’t. Were Hadrian and I going to have to speak in Japanese to get our thoughts across?
“Okay, no beer.” He ordered himself beer and pointed to the wine list as he ordered for me. Oh, great. He probably thought that was a safe bet, but me and wine? Went together only slightly better than me and beer. I loved me some regular grape juice, though.
That also wasn’t the only thing he ordered on my behalf.
