Our orders are called and he gets up before me. His chair legs scrape the floor, hollow echoes upon wood.
“I’ll get them. Just sit tight, Senpai.”
“Ah…” But he briskly walks towards the counter. His tall form weaves amongst the tables and arrives at the counter before I can open my mouth.
Mattaku mou. This guy. He really is good at messing up my beat.
Ichirou Naruse.
The name of a straight-out-of-Japan family, but he’s actually partially Japanese American. But he acts and look like he just came from Japan. Man, I miss that country. I want to go back sometime.
Perhaps with someone. Perhaps with him.
I blush a shade of light pink at the thought. How could that even happen…
I see him turn around and amble back to the table, a drink in each hand. The steam curls around his fingers.
YOU ARE READING
Rain Catcher
Short StoryAs rain falls, I collect it in my palms. One drop at a time. Unbeknownst to me, my feelings for you slowly collected, drop by drop, until it overflowed, bathing me in emotions. How many drops will it take for us to fully realize our true feeling...
