Pov Ayanokoji:
"What do you think about going out today?" Beck's message was the first thing that greeted me that morning.
Aside from the soft pecking of a little green bird at my apartment window, everything was in order. Not that I own much. I don't consume like others in this society. Most of my salary goes into books, though sometimes there are flaws and my boss lets me keep them.
Checking my phone, I also had a message from him: I could take the day off. I answered briefly, started changing clothes, and wondered how to spend the hours. Somehow, I had the sense that if I went walking near the bookstore right now, I'd see something interesting.
I replied to Beck—yes, we could go out later, maybe a café.
"Sounds good. Just don't stand me up this time. And you owe me an explanation about the other night." She followed it with a selfie, lips puckered in a kiss.
Now the problem was dressing decently—and stocking up on ice cream for the freezer. I hadn't slept much, stayed up reading online novels, and learned a few things in that world.
...
I decided on a casual walk through New York's streets. Dirtier than Japan, at least the years I spent there. A man once warned me people here might recognize me—my father's investors came from every country.
Years ago, I came here to meet someone, to demonstrate what I was capable of. Physically, I'm not at that level anymore. At ANHS I maintained myself as best I could, but those three years ended. And now? I see no reason to put in the effort.
Two blocks down, I saw someone I hadn't expected. Benjamin Ashby III—Benji.
Ben gee… I whispered. That's how Beck told me it was pronounced.
He was about to enter the bookstore when Joe arrived. I couldn't hear what they said, but I watched them both walk inside—in broad daylight. I moved closer, peered through the window. They spoke briefly, then Joe led him downstairs. To the rare collection. Benji had no business down there. Beck swears he reads poetry, but to me he looks like a man ignorant of everything. Born rich, raised spoiled, incapable of valuing anything.
Benjamin Ashby doesn't know how to value his life.
Or his freedom.
Freedom… He'll lose it today.
That's my prediction.
...
"So, what was it like being homeschooled? Did it make it hard to socialize?" Beck asked as we strolled through a quiet park.
The breeze was fresh, the sun balanced—neither burning nor cold. Ideal weather for a date, or so I'd once read.
"It was… complicated. Years ago, I attended the most elite high school in Japan. My first year was a social disaster. I didn't have friends until the second month." I watched a flock of birds scatter.
"Pfft. Honestly, your face isn't very expressive, but it couldn't have been that bad, right?"
It was. A failure.
"My introduction was decent, but in Japan students tend to be reserved."
"Well, I'm curious. You're reserved, but you say they were even more so. Maybe I should visit Japan."
"Maybe we could go together." A lie. I can never return to Japan. Not after…
"Would you travel the world with me?" Beck stopped walking. I stopped too.
Her smile was shy, her gaze hesitant. But it felt like the tone of this outing was shifting.
"Uh—"
She laughed at my face.
"Relax. You look like I just proposed marriage. It's not a bad idea, is it? Don't worry—I'm not some easy girl who runs off with the first guy she meets."
"I'm sorry I didn't go to that bar. I probably made a bad impression on your friends… and your boyfriend."
"Boyfriend? Benji's not my boyfriend. He's not my partner. Keep that in mind. And anyway, that idiot didn't show up either."
"Well, a beautiful single woman in New York, dreaming of being a writer… plenty of book lovers would lose their minds over you." My first compliment.
Karuizawa used to ask for compliments. Ichinose too. Even Amasawa—the devil from the White Room—wanted to hear sweet words, at least in bed.
I sat on a bench facing a small fountain. The park was empty—Monday morning, most people were in offices, construction sites, restaurants, stores.
I should've been working too, but my boss gave me the day off. For his own… purposes.
I didn't expect my comment to trigger a reaction. Beck went quiet, then sat down—on me.
She straddled my lap, hands on my shoulders, her weight pressing into my thighs. Her eyes met mine. I knew that look. I'd seen it in many girls. I knew where this was going. And I knew it wouldn't last—she'd have to leave in half an hour. I'm not a stalker, but I glimpsed her texting friends that she'd meet Joe soon, to thank him for "the other night."
I still don't know what happened that night. Why they both looked so wrecked.
"That was sweet of you, Mister 'No Reactions.'" Beck smiled, then kissed me.
Bold. I slid my hands from her waist down to her ass. Soft. Always soft.
I'm supposed to have perfect memory. I even believe it myself—memories from the moment I was born. But one thing I can never hold onto is the feeling of a woman's body under my hands.
As our tongues met, I kept my eyes closed. Thank you, Karuizawa, for teaching me that.
Bicycles rolled past. One rider shouted:
"Long live love!"
Pedaled away, laughing.
Beck pressed harder against me, grinding. Too much, too fast, too public. I stopped her.
"Sorry," she said, licking her lips, fixing her hair. "Think of it as your reward for being so sweet."
She checked her watch.
"Shit, I'm late. Errand first, then class."
She stood, and I followed. I walked her to a taxi. She kissed my cheek before getting in.
"…?" My own reflection stared back, confused in the car window.
Beck saw it too and smiled. The cab drove off.
What's the point of kissing me on the mouth only to say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek?
I guess I'll have to add that to my next round of Google searches.
"Ice cream! Fresh ice cream! Last offer—two for the price of one!"
Destiny smiled at me for once.
One of the rare times it does.
And one of the rare times I nearly ran full speed—just to get there before anyone else.