Swimming to Tokyo (16 page)

“Sorry. You’re right.” I bow and we both laugh.

“I’ve learned my lesson. No more books for you. How about food instead?” Finn slides an arm around my waist and steers me toward an
izakaya
. It’s early for dinner, but I’m starving since I didn’t eat this morning, and I’m happy to spend the next couple of hours across the table from Finn, laughing and talking, brushing my bare legs against his. We stay way too long, but as long as we’re both nursing beers, no one seems in any hurry for us to leave.

It’s almost dark by the time we trip out of the
izakaya
, and we’re debating heading for the Ferris wheel when my phone buzzes. I ignore it, and two seconds later, it buzzes again. I fumble for it in my bag. Missed calls from Dad. I texted him this morning that I was going out with Finn. A little bit of truth couldn’t hurt. Because Dad didn’t say I couldn’t go out with him at all. Still, my heart pounds a little. If he’s calling about that, I have no idea what I’m going to say.

As I navigate to his number, the phone buzzes again, and I answer it. Dad doesn’t let me get past hello before he’s talking.

“Zo, I’m sorry. It’s crazy here. I have to go to Kitakyushu tonight. There’s been a problem at the data center, and if we don’t get it back up and running for the opening of the Nikkei tomorrow, all hell will break loose.”

“Dad, are you okay?” He sounds scattered. “Do you need me to do something to help?”

I can practically see him shaking his head. “No. I’m heading to the station. But I want you to stay with Eloise tonight. I should be back sometime tomorrow, and I’d feel better if you weren’t staying alone.”

Wow. Okay, he has no idea. If he did, there’s no way he’d be suggesting this. “I’m fine. For God’s sake, I can stay in the apartment.”

“Zosia, please. I don’t have time to deal with you being annoyed. If you could just do it, it will give me one less thing to worry about. Eloise expects you to come home with Finn. Can I speak with him?”

I don’t answer, just hand the phone over. Finn’s side of the conversation is short, although he raises his eyebrows at me at one point, which means Dad’s told him about the sleeping arrangements for tonight. Finn hands the phone back to me, and Dad and I exchange a few more words and then I’m left standing in the middle of the sidewalk facing Finn, who’s looking at me with a totally unreadable expression on his face.

“So,” he says. “I guess we’re having a sleepover.”

His tone sounds mocking, and my anticipation deflates like a tire running over a nail.

“Yeah. Look, I’m fine at my place. My dad’s just being paranoid.”

“He made me promise.”

I shuffle my feet, fiddle with my bag. “I know. I’m sorry. I know it’s weird.”

“I just didn’t think you were that kind of girl. You know, to sleep over on the first date.” The way he laughs makes me feel worse.

So I get defensive. “Very funny. Really, I’m pretty sure my dad wouldn’t suggest it at all if…”

Shit.

“If what?” He raises his eyebrows at me.

At least ten thoughts pass through my head in the span of the next five seconds, but in the end I go with the truth because I can’t think straight with Finn looking at me that way.

“If he knew I was on a date with you right now.”

From the expression on his face, it’s clear Finn has a few thoughts of his own, but his voice is cool when he asks, “Why’s that?”

“Because he said you had a rough past. And you spent some time in juvie.” If Finn doesn’t ruin our first date by mocking me until I get defensive, I’m going to. Right now.

“True on both counts.” He kicks the ground with his shoe, not looking at me.

His lack of eye contact makes it easier to ask, “What did you go to juvie for?”

“I got into a fight.” He’s still not looking at me.

“You don’t go to juvie for getting in a fight.” I say it like I know.

“You do if there’s a knife involved.” His eyes lock with mine this time, and I try not to blink. “Any more questions?”

“You mean besides the couple hundred that brings up? No, not at all.” I sound cool, verging on annoyed. One hundred and eighty degrees different from a minute ago. One hundred and ninety degrees different from how I really feel. My insides jump around like water in a hot pan.

“Good. Did you want to find the
onsen
?” His eyes are flint, and in that second, he’s the guy Dad warned me about. Which makes me nod and keep my mouth shut.

We don’t touch as we walk through Odaiba toward the Japanese bath, even though it’s a good twenty-minute walk, what with navigating the crowd and pausing to watch a group of guys doing a street dance. We don’t really talk either, so by the time we’ve reached the front of the
onsen
, the last thing I feel like I can do is back out.

As I see the people streaming in and out, a heaviness settles in my stomach.

“You want to do this?” Finn asks.

“Um, yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“What are you worried about?”

We’re talking about the
onsen
, not this tension between us, right?

“I don’t know. It just feels weird.”

“What can go wrong? You bathe.” Well, he’s talking about the
onsen
.

“Seriously? Me naked with a bunch of Japanese women who are going to stare at my hair and point at my tan lines? You’re right. What’s the problem?” I walk toward the door because I don’t know how to talk about how defensive we’re both being. And I sure as hell don’t know how to talk about why.

I point to the sign and then to me and Finn. The woman nods until Finn turns, and then her face changes and she makes that motion with her hands that’s universal for no. She points to him, shaking her head, but I have to ask her to slow down three times before I understand.

“You can’t go in because of your tattoo,” I explain.

He looks like he’s about to protest, but the woman’s face is clear. No means no.

“You can go if you want,” he says.

I don’t even bother to reply, just bow my head to the woman at the counter and head back outside. If anything, the sidewalks seem more crowded now after dark than they did mid-afternoon, and suddenly I just want to get away from there.

“Can we go?”

“Sure.” His eyes have softened, but there’s still more than a hint of our earlier conversation in them. “You still coming home with me?”

“Am I still welcome?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” My tone is wary, but not for the reason he thinks.

Finn bites his lip and keeps his gaze on my throat. “Would it matter to you if I said I didn’t do it?”

Juvie. And whatever it was that landed him there. “It wouldn’t really matter to me if you said you did.”

He jerks his head up to meet my eyes, and his are narrow with disbelief. “Why not?”

“What’s done is done. I mean, yeah, I want to know, but…”

“Why don’t you ask?” His tone has lost its hard edge.

“Because, Finn, if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me instead of saying shit like that.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then open them again and meet his gaze. “You aren’t the mistakes you’ve made. Not to me.”

He stares me down for a good thirty-seven seconds. I have a feeling he’s waiting for me to look away, but I don’t. Which I’m pretty sure is why he tells me.

“I was sixteen and got caught up in a bad situation in downtown Baltimore at an arcade. It was a shit part of town. There was a fight. It got out of hand and someone pulled a knife. Thirty seconds later the cops showed and arrested everyone. I had my phone call from the station, but my father wouldn’t come. Neither would my mom. He didn’t care and she was pissed off that I was in trouble again. I’d had enough brushes with the principal’s office and mall security that she figured time in the big house could only help. So I stayed in juvie for a couple weeks to learn my lesson and then came to Westfield with my mom when she got me out.”

“How did you get out?”
Law & Order
is about the closest I’ve ever come to what Finn’s talking about.

“The usual way. I went to court and the judge told me to get my shit together before I turned eighteen or next time I’d be in prison.”

“What was the fight about?”

Finn half-laughs and shakes his head. “You’re the only person in the world who would ask me that.”

“Why’s that funny? I want to know.”

“Money.” His face turns serious, but it’s softer now. “That answer your question?”

“One of them.”

“Good.” He takes a step closer. “Then it’s my turn.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Your dad…”

I don’t even let him finish. “He thinks I’m naïve and I’ll end up getting hurt.”

“He’s right. You are naïve.” Finn reaches out and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and my heart ricochets through my chest. Partly from the sensation of his fingertips against my skin and partly from the hope that he doesn’t agree with my dad on both counts.

He doesn’t. At least not that he says. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, just cups his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me toward him. And kisses me. Good God, does he kiss me. He pulls me close enough that I feel the thump of his heart in his chest. There’s no tentativeness in the way his tongue parts my lips. Or in the groan that escapes the back of his throat when I cup his face in my hands. I respond with a moan of my own, and our kiss deepens in a way that’s far too intense for the middle of the sidewalk in Odaiba. Even if the Japanese didn’t frown on PDA like they do.

I pull away first and put my head on his shoulder. “I don’t think we…” My voice is breathy and soft.

He speaks over me. “You know you can’t lie for me.”

“I’m not lying for you. I’m lying for me.”

Finn closes his eyes for a beat and nods. “Good to know, but way worse.”

I shrug. “It is what it is.”

“No, it’s not. You need to tell him.”

“I’m almost nineteen.” Regardless of what Babci said, no good will come of telling my dad the truth about me and Finn.

“All the more reason,” Finn says softly. He traces his finger along my jawbone and over my lips, holding it there when he finally speaks. “I don’t trust anybody, Zosia, but damn I want to trust you.”

“You can trust me.”

“Not if you have to lie,” Finn says. “I don’t want to be the guy you lie about.”

Who do you want to be?

I almost ask. My mouth opens then closes, then opens again. The question is right there, half-formed.

Where it stays. Through whatever words I find to agree. To promise I’ll tell Dad. I don’t know exactly what I say, but I must sound like I mean it because Finn nods and takes my hand.

The whole time I’m looking at him like he might tell me. Like he can read my mind.

He can’t, of course. And as we walk through the crowds, the moment gets lost, but the question doesn’t. I hear it echoing with the clack of my shoes on the concrete.

Like a poem.

Or a song.

Or a plea.

Who do you want to be, Finn? Who do you want to be to me?

B
y the time we get off the train, we’re back to normal. Whatever that means. It’s not the same normal as yesterday. It’s not even the same normal as three hours ago.

The rain starts coming down in sheets, and we run into a darkened doorway a block from the station. It’s a very small doorway and it’s pretty much raining sideways, so it’s not that useful for keeping dry. My skirt is plastered to my legs, and water streams down my arms from my hair.

“We should just run for it,” I say. “We’re already soaked.”

“I know. I kind of like it.” He grins and draws me closer.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” I run two fingers down his chest. “What’s your mother going to say when we both show up looking like drowned rats?”

“Probably that we should have taken an umbrella.” He pulls me to his hips. “We could stop at yours and you can change.”

“Um, no.” I’ve already thought about that and dismissed it.

“Don’t trust me, do you?”

“It’s not you.” It’s me. Because the way my body is reacting to being pressed up against him like this, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be the only one taking my clothes off. As it is, it’s all I can do not to writhe up against him, and I definitely don’t writhe.

Except he draws me closer and I do.

And when Finn cups my butt and my leg wraps around his, I feel the bulge in his shorts pressing against my pelvis. Knowing he has that reaction to me makes me feel powerful. And hot. Temperature-hot. Desirable-hot.

Hot.

And bothered.

I press against him, and he rocks up against me while his mouth devours mine. His hands slide underneath my shirt, unhooking my bra, gliding over my wet skin. I lift up his shirt and slip my fingers around the waistband of his shorts, yanking him closer by the belt loops. He’s just undone the first two buttons on my blouse when his phone rings from his back pocket.

It’s like an alarm. We both freeze mid-grope, and he reaches for the phone. I’m impressed his voice sounds so even when he answers because he never stops looking at me, never stops touching me. And even though he’s tracing my collarbone across my shoulders, I feel it much lower.

Finn hangs up and slides the phone back into his pocket, still not breaking my gaze. “We, uh, need to stop for milk.”

“Okay.” I glance out at the rain. It’s still pouring. “Do we need to go?”

“Probably.” His finger rests in the V of my blouse, and his other hand brings my hips back to his. “But we need to make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

His hands still. “We need to agree we’re going to stop. That we’re not going to sleep together.”

“What do you mean?” The fire in my veins turns to ice.

If I had any doubt, the certainty in his voice erases it. “You deserve someone better. Not someone you’re going to wish you could undo.”

“How do you know what I wish I could undo?”

“I don’t. But I know I won’t be it.”

“You’re making a big assumption for our first date, aren’t you?” That comes out halfway between defensive and flirtatious, but it’s better than confused, which is how I really feel.