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Me: ????I have to get to work. My professor hates my work so far.??
H??:I’m sure he’s an idiot.
Me:LOLZ he is a four-time Kishida Prize winner.
H??:Don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself, little dove. Learn from them then make it your own.
Me: I needed to hear that. Thx.
H??:I will always be here for you. Now get back to work, then rest.
I don’t questionhow he knows exactly what I need. Over the course of the next few weeks our text conversations after my last class of the day become an integral part of my routine. I come to yearn to hear his voice instead of just his words. I make my biggest mistake one night, one that changes the course of my life or I think so, little did I know I never had a chance when it comes to Hisashi Takeda.
Me: I forgot how you sound.
H??: Really?
Me: Kidding
H??: Did you forget how I look as well?
Me: As if
Later that nightas I’m snuggling into my bed for the night, my phone chimes and it never chimes. My parents and family FaceTime. I look at the icon seeing the familiarH??. “Oh my goodness,” I whisper to myself. Sitting up higher I croak, “Hiyo,” trailing off feeling really silly and awkward.
“Taylor-Chan, I’m calling to wish you a good night since you’ve forgotten my voice.” His voice sounds like thick caramel wrapped in sex and darkness. I can’t help the shiver that makes me squeeze the covers closer.
“Hisashi, I was just being silly. I hope I didn’t take you away from your work,” I say, knowing he’s told me how intense and delicate this program he’s working on in association with the university and Takeda Industries that will revolutionize pest control worldwide without using dangerous toxins.
“I like the way you say my name, little dove.” His serious tone fills the line. There is something I’ve missed I realize. He calls me little dove. He adds chan. He wants me to reciprocate. In the time I’ve been here the language has not been an issue, it’s the nuances of tatemae. The unspoken language that you need to learn. What is not being said.
“I like the way you say my name too, Hisashi.” His low chuckle makes my toes curls and pussy clench.
“Hai, little dove.” I melt like a popsicle in the hot Alabama sun. His next words undo me.
“I need to see you. It seems I too have forgotten your face. Your lovely voice makes me want to see you again.”
Immediately I regret my decision. What if I fall apart in his arms? The last time I came so close to forgetting myself entirely. Now he’s had time to learn me. We’ve spent weeks texting back and forth sharing so much from what we ate that day, to books we like, down to his preferred software and hardware.
“We can FaceTime,” I offer.
His silence tells me that’s not what he wants. I can almost hear the recrimination in his voice when he concedes. “Let me know what time is good.”
“I know you get up at five a.m. but I’m not up until seven,” I tell him, mad at myself but still happy I am keeping some of my boundaries in place. I see a weakness I have when it comes to this man that I’ve never experienced with anyone else. It’s not that I am a prude or ultra-religious. The way Hisashi made me feel nearly a month ago at the gala was so unique. Almost soul shattering. I can’t lie. It changed me, challenged me, made me confront a part of myself I’m not sure I’m ready to see yet. That a man could do that to me. Had me shook. My foundation crumbled under his kiss, and I begged for more. Loved every moment of it until cold reality doused me. What will happen if I let him touch me again? Will I let him mold and shape me into someone I barely recognize? His pretty little toy ensconced in a Tokyo high-rise awaiting his every pleasure. The uptick in my heart rate lets me know that weak girl inside me would love it.
“As you wish, little dove,” he speaks. And I can practically see him banging his head on a headrest or pillow in frustration.
“Unacceptable,”Minamoto-sensei tells me, intense disapproval clouding his face.
“I will endeavor to do better, Sensei.” I bow three times with my hands cupped in front of me. I have never failed at anything, least of all my writing.
“Too fanciful, nearly ridiculous in its execution. You cannot continue with this theme in your work, Love-san.”
Heat flushes my skin. The humiliation is no less because of the in-office meeting. I’m sure the news will have spread. This is a competitive fellowship no different than those of STEM despite what Mrs. Takeda may have thought. The arts at this school are just as cutthroat.
“I will do better, Minamotto-sensai,” I promise, head bowed.
“See that you do,” he says boredly.
