Tokyo Drift || HS

7 || American Friend (Part 1)

JALEN IS MAKING THIS whole process a lot more difficult than it needs to be.

"Where are your boobs? It's like you're drowning in a grocery bag." He says from my bed.

For the past thirty minutes, Jalen's been critiquing every outfit I put on. I know it's out of good spirit, but I'm definitely over it at this point.

"Jalen, I'm not trying to shove my boobs in his face." 

"Why not?" 

I glare at him from the bathroom while he snickers at his own joke.

"We're hanging out, not going clubbing. And I don't even know the guy – I don't need to impress him. He knows what I look like, hungover I might add."

I turn around and stare at all the clothes Jalen laid out over the floor.

"It sounds like it's going to be pretty laid back, so I'm not going to come over all dressed up." I pause. "Besides, when do I ever dress like this?" I motion to the short skirt and baggy cashmere sweater.

"I don't know. Hey, you were the one that was being indecisive. I'm just trying to make suggestions!" He throws his hands up in defense. "It looked okay on the hanger."

I go back to my closet and shuffle through the shirts. I eventually grab a plain, black satin blouse from a hanger and pick up my favorite jeans from the floor.

"That's it? All this time, and that's what we're going for?" His expression slackens with disbelief.

I laugh and close the door to the bathroom.

After I change into more normal clothes, I check myself in the mirror.

My blonde hair is styled in the usual messy waves past my chest. My high cheekbones and round nose are dotted with the tiniest amount of highlight. My eyebrows are left looking very natural, and some soft pink blush warms the apples of my cheeks and the curve of my nose.

I tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear then walk back in the room to grab some sneakers and gold necklaces.

"Okay, okay." Jalen smiles. "I like this the best. Much more India."

✤ ✤ ✤

Finding Harry's apartment was a nightmare.

After catching an Uber and showing the driver the address Harry sent, I was dropped off at an intersection downtown with several massive skyscrapers lining the block. I walked around for five minutes before I figured out which one was his building. But then when I walked in, several guards coaxed me toward the front desk, not letting me pass unless I had a visitor's badge.

Luckily, Harry must have thought ahead because once I said my name, the woman at the front desk printed me off a temporary clearance paper. He was probably already aware that with the language barrier, I needed all the help I could get.

Once I was finally finished with all the security details, I was ushered into an elevator where an attendant stood inside ready to push the floor number.

It all seemed a little too elaborate to me, but then again, I guess I've never been in a situation where I needed a security guard.

I walked down the ornate hallway of the penthouse floor for what felt like miles until I found the number to his suite.

Now, standing outside his door, the scenarios I've been pushing down throughout the day seem all too real. I feel my nerves jumping around in my stomach like Mexican jumping beans.

Calm down Indi. You're fine. He's not that intimidating.

My mind dances over the tattoos winding up his arms and the thick rings placed along his fingers.