God, I can't resist the way she looks when she's upset. She's so damn cute when she's angry that I want to hug her. But more than that, I want to tear her dress off. I put my hands on her arms, and press her up against the side of the elevator.
"Gaige, what are you doing? Not here," she protests.
"I'm not doing anything," I say, looking down at the eyes I haven't gotten the least bit tired of looking at. "There's nothing on the agenda for the weekend, right? This was it. The Tokyo tour tonight, right?"
"Yeah, and we're supposed to make nice with Akira," she says. "It's a big deal. A traditional Japanese dinner and a tour before the trip is over. If you don't show, it's an insult."
"Maybe he decided he wanted to take Chelsea out," I say. "He seemed like a bit of a ladies man, didn't he?"
She shakes her head. "I think Chelsea ditched us," she says.
"Delaney," I say, tilting her head up and looking in her eyes. "Calm down. It'll be fine. I think she had the hots for Akira anyway. Chelsea is pretty ruthless in what she pursues."
Delaney is silent. "Well, shit," she says. "What do we do now? And I swear to God, if you say we go back to the hotel room and do it, I'm going to knee you right in the balls."
"You don't want to do it?" I ask, running my finger down her arm until I reach her fingers. I take her hand and slide it along my chest, just because I want to feel her touch. "It might make you less stressed."
Delaney purses her lips and looks at me, then she finally sighs and smiles. "There's nothing we can do about it, can we?" she asks. "Do you want to go back to the hotel room?'
I look at her for a second, and then suddenly I don't. When the door opens, I hit the down button. "Nope."
"What are you doing?" she asks.
"We just got ditched, and I've got a night with you," I say. "A whole weekend, come to think of it. Here you are, looking fucking stunning, and I have you all to myself. I don't want to take you back to a hotel room."
"You don't," she says. "Where are we going?"
I can't resist doing what I do next. I slide my hands underneath her, cupping her legs and picking her up. "I'm taking you out."
"What? No."
"This city is huge, and I'm not wearing anything Marlowe-related. No one knows who the hell I am," I say. "No one knows who the hell you are, either. And I want a tour of Tokyo."
"I don't know Tokyo," she says.
"You've been here before."
"Only for a semester," I say. "Only some of it in Tokyo."
"I don't care about the city," I tell her. And I mean it. "I want to hang out with you. So, show me around."
"Fine. On one condition," she says.
"What?"
"Put me the hell down so everyone in the lobby doesn't see my ass when the door opens."
"Deal." I cup a handful of her ass for good measure, and feel the lace thong she's wearing. "Panties again?"
She drops to the ground, and slaps me playfully on the arm. "It was a work dinner," she says. "You think I was going to go commando? That's kind of sketchy, isn't it?"
"It's not a work dinner anymore," I tell her. "So those are coming off."
But the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Delaney smiles triumphantly. "Saved by the bell," she says, as she walks out ahead of me. She doesn't consult the concierge this time, just walks out the door. "Okay. Let's do it."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DELANEY
We sit across from each other in a crowded izakaya in Shibuya, after passing a million little bars and restaurants that showcase plastic versions of their foods in the windows. Gaige sips his beer and laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and the sound is infectious. He's relaxed, for the first time in weeks, and I finally feel calm, away from Chelsea and work and the hotel and everything. The izakaya is crowded, yet it feels like Gaige and I are the only two people in the room.
"You love it here," Gaige says.
"Yeah," I tell him. "I was here for a semester. Not in Tokyo, really. I mean, I traveled, but I was mostly down south. Just enough time to fall in love but not enough time to really let the little things start to annoy me, you know?"
Gaige sips his beer and looks at me. "Kind of like us."
My heart practically stops and I take a long gulp of my chu-hi, a drink made from soda and shochu, but tastes dangerously just like plain soda. "You do plenty of things to annoy me," I say, assuring myself that Gaige was simply making a silly comparison that meant nothing.
"Yet you're still here with me, and about to spend the weekend with me," he says, popping a piece of sashimi into his mouth. "You only pretend to hate me."