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The entire time she stands next to the front door of her apartment, just waiting for her date to press the buzzer and summon her down, Hitoka bounces on the balls of her feet and lets her thoughts run away with her.
He’s so tall, she thinks, wondering if she should wear bigger heels so he can at least see the top of her head at eye level. Towering nearly forty centimeters above her in height, it’s possible for her to walk in front of him without him even seeing her. It’s a trait that’s held her in good stead throughout her life when she doesn’t want to be noticed, but not this night.
No, Hitoka asserts to herself, I want him to notice me.
Hitoka opens the coat closet nearby and stares at the batch of shoes hanging from the caddy over the door. She only has one pair of taller heels than the four inch ones she currently sports, and there is a reason she hadn’t chosen them. They were an online purchase and uncomfortably tight, but she hadn’t returned them because she convinced herself that they just needed stretched out. That all she has to do is subject her feet to singular agony for a few days and they’ll be the perfect pair of shoes.
It’s a commitment she is definitely not ready to make.
Shaking off any second thoughts on her wardrobe, Hitoka resumes her pacing. She conducts conversation after conversation with herself, hoping to ingrain the right things to say in her head enough that her brain will choose those things instead of jettisoning the first string of syllables it picks out at random.
When the buzzer goes off promptly at seven, she can’t suppress a yelp. Her fingers tremble as she hits the talk button and says, “Yachi residence.”
“Would you like me to come up there, or should I wait down here?” asks a familiar voice that soothes over her frayed nerves, and it draws a smile.
“I’ll be right down.”
There is a spring in her step as she makes her way to the elevator, her feet already taxed from a full work day spent in heels on hard floors. She hums a catchy chorus from a song she’d heard earlier on the radio while the elevator deposits her on the ground floor.
He’s not hard to spot, patiently standing near the entryway with his hands behind his back, and Hitoka nearly stumbles at the sight. Her date definitely cuts a fine figure in a tailored blue suit that shows off his athletic frame without sacrificing style.
She also can’t get over the way he is so even-keeled about everything. She knocks a drink into his lap, he tells her it’s fine and cleans himself up. She breaks a heel and needs to make an emergency stop somewhere for a replacement pair, he waits for her as if it’s no inconvenience at all and carries the box holding her old pair until he takes her home.
Ushijima Wakatoshi is a perfect date, and every time Hitoka remembers that he’s her date, she melts like snow in July.
He spots her almost right away, and a soft smile graces his lips, making his handsome face light up in a way that’s only for her. Wakatoshi offers a hand and gives it a squeeze when she accepts it. They had tried the traditional hooked arms once before, but their enormous height difference makes it nearly possible to maintain.
So now when they go places, he holds her hand and Hitoka could actually scream at how sweet it is.
“Shall we?” When she nods, he leads the way to the curb where a taxi awaits them, not getting in until he helps her settle inside and takes care to make sure her dress isn’t caught in the door.
Once they’re on their way to the restaurant she had picked and he had agreed to, Wakatoshi puts his hand over hers where it rests on the seat between them. “You look lovely, Hitoka-san.”
“You do, too,” Hitoka squeaks, immediately wishing she could retract it. Instead, she amends, “I mean handsome. You look very handsome tonight, Wakatoshi-kun. Not that you don’t look handsome all the time, but definitely more than usual.”
That’s not better, she chides herself, almost afraid to look over and see him look at her like she’s grown an extra head. But she does, there is only a crooked smile and amusement dancing in his hazel eyes as he pats her hand. “Thank you, Hitoka-san. You’re also even more lovely than usual.”
Hitoka’s cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red, and she wants to sink into the seat and never come out, but there is no hint of impatience or irritation on Wakatoshi’s face. The only sign of anything other than his usual passive demeanor is the subtle stroke of his thumb on the back of her hand.
When they arrive, she lets him help her from the car and pay the driver because she doesn’t want to have that discussion again. After a near crying fit the last time they had both tried to pay, Wakatoshi politely suggested that they take turns and leave it at that. His willingness to solve problems that wouldn’t be problems with anyone else is one of the reasons she can’t keep her mind off this giant of a man who, for some reason or another, thinks Hitoka is definitely a perfect girlfriend.
Dinner passes by with idle chatting, and this is the easiest for Hitoka. He asks her about work, one of her favorite things to talk about, and the words spill out with a coherence she can’t manage for much else. And in turn, he highlights parts of his week that he thinks she might find to be of interest, along with updates on any friends of his that she knows.
On their way out, Wakatoshi looks up at the rare smattering of stars that are usually drowned out by Sendai’s particularly vivid light pollution. It’s why she had chosen this place. On the far outskirts of the city and away from major industrial areas, there is more countryside visible than pavement, making it a haven for city-dwellers to get away from the bustle, if only for a little while.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he murmurs, casting a glance at the well-manicured greenery lining the sidewalk. “Care for a stroll, Hitoka-san?”
Hitoka swallows hard. Her feet hurt, they really do, but the air smells so good and he’s so very nice to be with and to look at; she can’t bring herself to refuse. “I’d love to.”
They meander around the restaurant’s gardens in the back, every once in a while stopping to look at the rare sight of stars. She points out constellations to him and he soaks in every word.
It isn’t long before Hitoka’s feet are throbbing in pain and she stumbles, her fall only broken by Wakatoshi’s solid frame and lightning reflexes. His lips are pursed with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Of course, I just —” She sighs in defeat. “It’s been a long day, and my ankles are killing me.”
His eyes cloud as he sweeps her up into his arms and deposits her onto a nearby bench. “You should have told me, Hitoka-san.” He removes one of her heels and kneels in front of her. When his thumbs rub brisk circles on the pads of her feet, the sensation of relief is almost immediate.
Wakatoshi glances up at her, his expression serious as he says, “Please let me take care of you.”
Hitoka heaves a sigh and throws back her head. “It feels like you take care of me a lot more than I get to take care of you. It isn’t right.” Yet his learned hands don’t stop kneading away the stresses of the day from her feet and she can’t even bring herself to tell him no. “That feels so good.”
“And I’m happy to do it.” He switches feet, and soon Hitoka is almost purring in contentment at his touch. When he finishes, he picks up her shoes and offers his hand. “I can take you home if you’d like.”
Frustrated with herself more than anything, Hitoka shoots to her feet and snaps, “I’m tired of being like this. I’m like a wet kitten! I can’t help myself if my life depended on it, and making you do it for me is just as bad. You deserve better than a hot mess like me.”
Her mouth wobbles, and she can’t stop the hiccup that escapes as she tries her best not to cry.
She hears her shoes clatter to the pavement, and Wakatoshi’s large hands are framing her crumpling face. “Why is it so terrible for me to do help you with things that make it easier for you?”
“I should be able to do them myself,” she whispers, shutting her eyes to the flash of insecurity she had seen in his gaze that she had put there. “I’m twenty-nine years old, Wakatoshi-kun. It’s embarrassing to be this helpless.”
When she dares open her eyes, Hitoka is met with a stern glare from Wakatoshi that makes her blink in surprise. “What makes you think you’re helpless?”
“I just —” Hitoka exhales heavily. “I just am.”
“Nonsense.” He drops his hands from her face and looks down at them, wrinkling his nose. “I probably shouldn’t touch your face right now.” He wriggles his fingers. “Foot hands.”
Hitoka can’t stifle a peal of laughter, and when he throws an arm around her, she leans into it.
As they walk back to the curb for their taxi home, Wakatoshi says more words at one time than she’s ever heard him say, and every single one of them is wrapped around some trait of hers that he admires.
She maps advertising campaigns for multi-billion dollar companies with her sharp mind and even sharper innovation. He can’t think of anyone else he knows who can look at a color and immediately know the name for the exact shade. She had taught him the ins and outs of Excel spreadsheets in under two hours, and he hasn’t forgotten a single lesson. She speaks four languages and can change from one to another seamlessly.
But the last one is one that makes her stop in her tracks.
“And the way you laugh makes me feel like everything is right in the world.”
Grateful that her heels are in Wakatoshi’s other hand and not on her feet because they would surely have sent her sprawling to the pavement, Hitoka reels back and gapes at him. “Do you really mean that or are you just trying to make me feel special?”
Wakatoshi huffs and crosses his arms. “Since when have you known me to say or do something I don’t really mean?”
Hitoka gulps, and she knows he’s right. He’s proven himself to be honest a dozen times over, and he deserves better than to be second-guessed about something as important to him as his integrity.
“Never,” she finally answers, and his smile makes her heart flutter in her chest.
It takes the very tips of her toes and a little bit of kneeling on his part, but Wakatoshi kisses her like she’s something precious. Her entire being sings, even after they resume their journey home hand in hand.