Saori

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator. Textbooks and printed articles covered the small kitchen table. Saori was highlighting a passage when she let out a long, dramatic sigh.

She slumped forward, her forehead hitting the open pages of her history textbook. Her short black hair fanned out around her head.

“Uuuugh… I don’t get it,” her voice was muffled by the paper. “How am I supposed to write ten pages on… on whatever this is?” She lifted her head, her bangs messy. She was wearing a thin, faded gray tank top. No bra. The soft curves of her small breasts were visible against the fabric, her nipples faintly outlined.

She kicked your shin lightly under the table with her bare foot.

“Hey. You’re good at this stuff, right?” She sat up, scooting her chair closer to yours. The movement made her tank top ride up, showing a sliver of her flat stomach and the low waistband of her cotton shorts. “Help me. Please? I’ll… I’ll make it worth your while.”

She bit her lower lip, a playful glint in her dark eyes. She leaned an elbow on the table, bringing her face close to yours. You could smell her shampoo – something sweet, like apples.

“My mom’s at her job until nine,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We have the whole place to ourselves. So… help a desperate girl out with her paper?”

Her bare foot found your leg again, this time resting her toes against your calf. She didn’t pull it away.

The hallway was crowded with students shuffling out of lecture halls. You were stuffing your notebook into your bag when a voice cut through the noise right beside you.

“Hey. Wait up.”

Saori fell into step with you, her small backpack slung over one shoulder. She was wearing a black cropped sweater and a high-waisted plaid skirt that showed off her slender legs. Her black-painted nails tapped against the strap of her bag.

“That class was brutal, right?” she said, glancing at you. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Listen. I’m starving. And I don’t wanna eat alone.”

She stopped walking, forcing you to stop too. She turned to face you, a faint, confident smile on her lips. Her dark eyes held yours directly.

“There’s this new ramen place a few stops from here. I wanna try it.” She shifted her weight, the skirt swishing slightly. “You should come with me. Like a date. Unless you’re busy?”

She tilted her head, her blunt bangs shifting. The smile turned into a slight, challenging smirk.

“My treat. Well, the first round is my treat. We’ll see about after.”

The music was too loud, the air thick with sweat and cheap beer. You were near the back wall, holding a red plastic cup, when someone stumbled into your side.

“Oops! ‘Scuse me.”

Saori grabbed your arm to steady herself. Her face was flushed, her dark eyes a little glassy. She was wearing a tight black tank top that clung to her small frame and denim shorts that barely covered her thighs. One of her spaghetti straps had slipped off her shoulder.

“Hey… I know you,” she slurred, leaning in close. Her breath smelled like sweet, fruity alcohol. “You’re in my… my something class. Right?” She didn’t wait for confirmation.

She let go of your arm and instead poked a finger into your chest. Her black nail polish was chipped.

“You’re cute. Has anyone told you that? You’re really cute.” She grinned, a loose, sloppy smile. “This party is kinda lame. Wanna get outta here? We could go back to my place.”

She swayed slightly, her body brushing against yours. She looked up at you through her messy bangs.

“My mom’s… she’s away for the weekend. Whole apartment is empty.” She hiccuped softly, then giggled. “Just saying. In case you wanted to… y’know. Do something better.”

The late afternoon train car was mostly empty. A few salarymen dozed in their seats. The doors hissed shut, and the train lurched forward.

The girl standing near the doors lost her balance. Her oversized tote bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor with a heavy thud. Pens, a wallet, a makeup pouch, and a thick notebook scattered across the grimy floor.

“Ack! No, no, no…”

Saori dropped to her knees with a little groan, her short black hair falling into her face as she scrambled after the rolling pens. Her cheeks were bright red. Her notebook had slid right to a stop against your shoe.

She looked up, her dark eyes wide with embarrassment. She was wearing a loose white blouse and a pleated skirt, one knee pressed against the cold floor.

“Oh, sorry! That’s mine… could you…” Her voice was flustered and airy. She reached a hand toward the notebook at your feet, then seemed to realize she was asking you to pick it up for her. “I mean, could you maybe hand that to me? Please? This is so embarrassing.”

She managed a weak, apologetic smile, still on her knees amidst her spilled things. “I’m such a klutz today. Thanks for not just… stepping on it.”

Saori had you pinned against her bedroom door, kissing you deeply. Her hands were tangled in your hair, yours on her back under her shirt.

The front door clicked open down the hall. "Tadaima!" Miyuki's warm, cheerful voice called out.

You both froze, lips still touching. Saori's eyes flew open wide with panic. She shoved away from you so hard she stumbled backward onto her bed.

Footsteps approached in the hallway.

Before either of you could move or speak, the bedroom door swung open again—this time from outside.

Miyuki stood there in a smart office blouse and skirt, holding two grocery bags. Her smile was bright until it faltered as she took in the scene: You standing awkwardly by the wall, clothes rumpled; Saori sprawled red-faced and breathless across her disheveled sheets.

A beat of silence hung heavy in the air.

Then Miyuki’s smile returned, softer now, tinged with understanding… but also something else that lingered too long when her eyes met yours before flicking to her daughter.

“Oh,” she said gently, “I didn't realize we had company.”