Dirty, Dirty Liars [Mature]

[6] 六

"Right now?" Ryuzo asked me in a deep, flirtatious tone.

I nodded. "Yeah. Right now."

His dreamy smile made my heart flutter. I wanted to wrap him up, feel his body against mine, tangle his perfect hair between my fingers again . . . But it wasn't meant to be.

"Kyodai!" A boy who looked sixteen ran over.

Ryuzo's expression dropped instantly when he watched the boy approach. His entire demeanor changed when he took a step back and crossed his arms. While he closed himself off the moment his comrade was nearby, he still didn't turn from me.

The boy bowed and held it. "Forgive me." He spoke other words I couldn't catch in their sequence, alongside more apologies. "Sorry, Yokoyama-san. Sorry."

"Go," Ryuzo commanded him. The boy ran off. He avoided my gaze, that hollowness returning to his eyes.

My buzz faded away, and an anxious cold settled in its place. I hated seeing him look like that, but he didn't seem capable of escaping it whenever he was wrapped up in Yakuza business. Everything I thought I knew about him didn't match the hard exterior he tried to maintain.

"You have to go," I asked rhetorically.

His rueful eyes lifted to mine. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

He looked at me from head to toe with a face full of longing. I wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss me, but I knew the rules. "Saturday?"

I agreed, "Saturday."

"I'll find you."

"I know you will."

He smirked at my joke. "See you, Mina," he said as always, then reluctantly walked away. He gave me one last look over his shoulder before disappearing.

I was disappointed, but curious. There was so much I had to learn about Japan, the Yakuza, and Ryuzo's place in it all. Everything I saw and heard that night made me feel like I knew him less than I thought.

When he stood me up, I wasn't sure I knew him at all.

. . .

I stared at the restaurant through my window like a child waiting for Santa. After taking multiple trips down to the gate just to make sure, I convinced myself he was running late because something popped off at work. Another hour passed, more patrons and kobun left, but no Ryuzo. Eventually, I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I went out to check the gate one more time before giving up and going to bed.

I had spent my whole day off getting ready to see him, my whole night waiting for him, then spent the next day wondering why I hadn't seen him. He had disappeared like he did before. For a man who always seemed to want to see me, he was frustratingly selective about when I saw him.

"Misaki-san, you need to calm down," Ayumi scolded our patient. The young man shied away from her in fear.

This patient had a fear of needles and what we would consider White Coat Syndrome in the States, but the culture was different here. Patients didn't come to seek medical advice, they came for treatment. Doctors made decisions, nurses followed protocol, and patients listened. It was hard to get used to, especially knowing how voiceless and overlooked certain groups were in America. Advocating on their behalf was a habit I would never break.

The patient shied away again. "Let me?" I asked Ayumi.

She nodded and handed me the needle. I took her place. The patient looked at me like I was an apparition.