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Somewhere, fate must be having a great time. Fate was probably on vacation: presumably a tropical beach, drink in hand, relaxing without a care in the world. Perhaps the universal force of destiny had even retired. It was entirely possible, Ren thought. Why would Fate need to do so much as lift a finger, when Takarada Lory existed? Logically, Ren knew that their disastrous first day together hadn’t been orchestrated by the President, but still, the whole set up had been Lory’s idea. Ren could almost heard the old man laughing at him from across Tokyo. If the President ever heard the full story about the hotel bed mix up, he’d probably laugh hard enough to crack a rib.
Ren heaved one last sigh, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. When he opened his eyes, Tsuruga Ren was gone, and Cain Heel stared back at him in the bathroom mirror before turning around.
Setsu’s back was to Cain as she sat on the end of her bed, zipping up over-the-knee black suede boots. Her petite frame was covered by something surprisingly large— and familiar.
“Setsu, what are you wearing?” Ren asked. He managed to keep Cain’s laidback tone, even though inside his heart was flip-flopping in his throat.
She didn’t turn around, but he could hear the pout in her voice as she responded.
“Whaaat? I can’t borrow a jacket?”
“You have your own clothes,” he said flatly. That was true enough — Ren knew exactly what was in Setsuka’s wardrobe. He’d bought all of it himself.
“But I want to wear something of yours,” she replied sweetly. “Besides, it looks good on me, don’t you think?”
Ren averted his gaze while Kyoko stood up and walked over to the full length mirror to admire her outfit. His jacket reached her upper thigh, then Ren made himself look away. But still, he couldn’t stop part of his brain from imagining Kyoko turning around and unbuttoning the jacket to reveal nothing underneath. Ren shoved his fantasy aside. He swallowed.
“We’re going to be late,” he growled. As soon as it was out of his mouth, Ren gave himself an NG for being so out of character. Get it together, the actor scolded himself. Like Cain Heel would care about being late to set (they’d been almost 90 minutes late the first day, nearly giving Kyoko a heart attack).
If Kyoko noticed his slip up, she didn’t say anything, continuing to lean forward to apply lip gloss in the mirror. The back vent of the jacket opened as she did so, thankfully revealing a pair of shorts. Incredibly small, tight, leather shorts that hid absolutely nothing, but shorts nonetheless.
Ren was not prepared when she turned around.
Kyoko was not wearing a shirt. His jacket hung completely open in front.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Ren managed to choke out. Kyoko looked around. She snatched up Setsu’s phone, tucking it into one of his jacket pockets.
“What, you in a hurry this morning?” Setsu teased. Then she held out her hand, ready to leave. Ren swallowed. He didn’t want to have to state the obvious, but there was no way he could let her leave like that.
“You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“I love you, but you know you’re a big idiot when it comes to fashion, right?” Setsu rolled her eyes. She gestured to her chest. “What do you call this?”
Torture?
Ren bit back his immediate response as he struggled not to stare at her chest. It didn’t help that she was watching him, a playful smirk on her lips as if she was challenging him.
Cain Heel might be a big idiot when it came to fashion, but Tsuruga Ren was a model and brand ambassador. Ren struggled to keep Cain’s bored expression as his eyes swept over the bare skin. A bra. That’s a bra, Kyoko. It was a black bandeau with a large notch cut out of the center that dipped way too low for Ren’s peace of mind. It was less of a bra and more of a torture device. There was no way he had bought her that, right? Ren didn’t think he had. But that meant… Ren swallowed. Did Mogami Kyoko, of all people, own such an item of clothing?
“No shirt is th—”
“It’s called a crop top,” Setsu said loftily. Then she grabbed Cain’s hand, dragging him out of the hotel room before he made them any more late than they already were.
Inwardly, Kyoko was mortified. But Setsu was supposed to be fashionable, and so Kyoko had been doing her best. She had been trying to keep up to date, and had seen the crop top and oversize blazer combo all over on celebrities and streetwear blogs. So that meant it was stylish, right? And if it was stylish and meant borrowing something from her precious nii-san? Of course Setsu would do it. So Kyoko did not really have a choice.
She risked a glance up at Ren through her lashes. It was hard to see his expression through all the mascara she applied as Setsu, but she could tell he was extra on-edge. She mentally ran through the call-list for the day and realized that Tsuruga-san had a lot of scenes with Murasame scheduled for filming. Kyoko glanced at her senpai sympathetically. She cuddled closer to his arm to encourage him, wishing she could be of use to him somehow.
An involuntary spasm shot up Ren’s arm at the press of her chest against his bicep. Even through his jacket, he could feel the heat from her skin. His fingers twitched and he grazed the soft skin of her bare stomach.
“Don’t worry,” Setsu cooed. “I promise I’ll take good care of your jacket, and you can have it back at the end of the day.”
In response, Cain just growled. It was going to be a long day.