Chapter 197 | This One’s for Kumiko
Chapter 197: 197 | This One’s for Kumiko
One word. That was it.
Jordan felt unreasonably proud.
The session lasted an hour. By the end, Jordan’s arms burned, his legs ached, and sweat soaked through his tank top. Leo looked like he might collapse at any moment. Kyle seemed barely winded because Kyle was a genetic freak who apparently didn’t experience fatigue like normal humans.
Maya dismissed them with her usual lack of ceremony.
"Thursday. Same time. Don’t be late."
She walked toward the back office without waiting for a response.
Leo stared after her.
"I’m going to talk to her."
"Don’t," Kyle said.
"I have to."
"You really don’t."
But Leo was already moving, jogging to catch up with Maya before she disappeared through the office door.
Jordan and Kyle exchanged looks.
"Should we stop him?" Jordan asked.
"Can we stop him?"
"Probably not."
They watched Leo intercept Maya near the water fountain. From this distance, Jordan couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could see Leo’s animated gestures and Maya’s complete lack of expression.
The exchange lasted approximately thirty seconds.
Maya said something.
Leo’s shoulders slumped.
Maya walked away.
Leo stood there for a moment, then turned and trudged back toward them with the energy of a man who had just been informed his dog died.
"Well?" Kyle asked.
"She said no."
"Shocking."
"But," Leo held up a finger, "she also said I’m less annoying than yesterday. That’s improvement. That’s measurable progress."
Jordan had to admire the optimism. Delusional, sure. But optimistic.
They grabbed their bags and headed for the parking lot. The sun was setting over the strip mall, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Jordan checked his phone and found seventeen messages waiting for him.
Three from Chloe covered dinner logistics.
Twelve from Kumiko touched on various subjects. Jellyfish facts. Outfit deliberations for tonight. A paragraph-long examination of why Jordan’s eyes reminded her of "honey swirled with forest moss, but only when the light hits them from the left."
Two from Brooke included attachments he’d review later.
Jordan typed back to Chloe first.
"Heading back now. Should be there by 7."
"Perfect. Thai food arrives at 7:30. Kumi’s already here. She brought drawings."
"Of course she did."
"Also she’s wearing your henley."
Jordan stopped walking.
"I don’t remember giving her a henley."
"You didn’t. She took one from me. Which I took from you. It’s been passed around like a peace treaty."
"I’m running out of henleys."
"Buy more."
Leo reclaimed the passenger seat on the drive back, slouching low with his eyes shut. The repeated romantic failures had drained whatever energy the workout hadn’t already stolen. Kyle hummed something vaguely melodic along with the radio. Jordan kept his attention on the road and considered the evening waiting for him.
Dinner with two girlfriends.
Two girlfriends who both knew about each other. Who had somehow agreed to this arrangement. Who were currently hanging out together in Chloe’s apartment while he drove back from the gym smelling like sweat and poor life choices.
Normal people dated one person at a time like civilized human beings.
But Jordan McKnight had stopped being normal three weeks ago when a golden System appeared on his phone and started grading his romantic life like a particularly invasive video game.
Kyle dropped Jordan off at Cooper Garment Lofts at six forty-five.
"Have fun with your harem," Kyle said as Jordan climbed out.
"It’s not a harem."
"You have two girlfriends who both know about each other and are eating dinner together at one of their apartments. That’s literally the definition of a harem."
"It’s a relationship with... multiple participants."
"A harem."
Jordan closed the door and flipped Kyle off through the window.
Kyle laughed and drove away.
The elevator ride to the fourth floor felt longer than usual. Jordan checked his reflection in the mirrored walls. Sweaty. Tired. In desperate need of a shower.
He stopped at his apartment first, stripped out of his gym clothes, and stepped under the hot water. The spray pounded against his sore muscles, loosening the tension accumulated from an hour of punching things.
Ten minutes later, he was dressed in clean jeans and a blue button-up that Chloe had picked out for him during their Nordstrom trip. His hair was still damp but looked intentionally messy rather than accidentally disheveled.
Good enough.
He walked to Unit 403 and knocked.
The door flew open to reveal Kumiko Yamanaka practically vibrating in place, her entire body radiating an energy that could only come from someone who’d eaten an entire bag of candy in one sitting and chased it with a boba tea.
"Jordan!"
She threw herself forward before he could react.
Jordan’s arms came up instinctively, catching her as she collided with his chest. Her whole body pressed against him, face burrowing into the soft cotton of his button-up like she was trying to physically merge with him. The scent of her strawberry shampoo mixed with something sweet and floral filled his nose. Those ridiculous twin tails of hers brushed against his jaw.
"Hnnnn," she made this contented noise against his sternum, the vibration traveling through his ribs. "You smell like soap. Good soap. Not that cheap stuff that smells like a mall kiosk."
"I showered," Jordan said, because stating the obvious seemed safer than acknowledging how tightly she was holding him.
"I noticed. It’s very nice. Very boyfriend-appropriate." She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her doe eyes wide and sparkling. "Chloe-chan told me you went to the gym with Kyle-kun. Did you get stronger? Did you punch things? Did you think about me while you were punching things? Did you dedicate any of your punches to me? Like, ’this one’s for Kumiko’?"
"I thought about you exactly zero times while punching things," Jordan said.
Her expression crumpled like a kicked puppy.
"But," he added quickly, watching her face shift through emotions at rapid speed, "I thought about you the entire drive back. Kyle wouldn’t shut up about you, actually. Kept asking if you were going to tackle me at the door."