She Can't See

chapter eight

"There." Asami said after finishing the zipper on Zayda's shirt. As embarrassing as it was, as the act itself was happening, Asami felt a bit ... winded. The second that she got the request of helping her friend, her stomach did a short flip that made her eyes widen. Thankfully enough, the odd churn inside of her plummeted the second the zipper was secured properly. 

Maybe the feeling was a shock of nerves for the game tonight. Maybe it was just because of how close they were and how quiet the room got for that moment. It was no more than a natural reaction. Zipping up a girl's shirt, inches away from her back that was only covered with a thin bra strap, lips centimeters away from a bare neck ...

Zayda turned around with a sharp smile. "How does it look? It's not too much for this, right?"

"What exactly do you consider 'too much?'" Asami crossed her arms and raised a brow while giving an up-down glance of the girl who was admiring herself in the mirror. "We're going to a soccer game."

"It almost sounds like you're judging me."

Asami tilted her head in confusion. "What's with the tone?"

Her and Zayda weren't necessarily the best of friends, however they weren't acquaintances either. It was a bit of an odd relationship. They both knew that, but both students always decided that it was easier to just not talk about it at all. Asami could do that; easy. They originally met when they were much younger, at the ages of six and seven years old, at a grand gala that Zayda's family hosted. Asami and her parents had been invited - and as special guests. It wasn't an unusual invitation for the Satos, yet they still truly did appreciate the VIP perks of the event. As soon as Hiroshi and Dr. Kazi got to talking, and neither of the girls' mothers were in sight, Zayda and Asami came to a mutual agreement of becoming friends - especially for important functions that hardly ever had other children their age. 

Their father's were probably more invested in their friendship than either of them were. There were many times where the two were practically forced to hang out. Over the years of attending multiple occasions on end, Asami eventually got used to Zayda's company when they (rarely) spent one-on-one time together. Just like now as they got ready for a school soccer game in Zayda's bathroom. 

"There's no tone." Zayda smirked as she began pinning her thick hair into a complex style. She eyed Asami from the side, purposefully making it an obvious gaze. "You look even more dressed up than me for you to only think of it as some dumb soccer game." 

Panic spread quickly, heating her palms. "What do you mean? I'm dressed as I always am. And this game is not 'dumb.'"

Which was a small chunk of the truth. Asami chose to wear a pair of tight black jeans that just so happened to hug her ass and thighs perfectly, a pastel red baby tee which showed a majority of her stomach (not to mention it hugged her breasts perfectly), 'regular' boots that costed nearly three grand, and she threw on some blue and white metallic necklaces for school spirit wear. Most students would settle for leggings and a sweatshirt or baggy T-shirt ...

"Yeah, and that's how you always seem to dress when we go to one of their games."

"Whose games?" She didn't get an answer for a number of beats, so she repeated herself. "Hello? Whose games are you talking about?"

Zayda finally fully turned to face Asami. The two pigtails with bands every few inches sat nicely on the sides of her head. Her smirk was still as prominent as ever. "Dante's games. Obviously."

And for some reason, that name was the farthest thing from what Asami had expected to hear. But still, it created a large sense of relief to flow over her chest. Her eyelids batted away whatever tension was being kept there, creating a quick flash of someone all too familiar in her mind. A bright, promising lopsided grin. Asami blinked it away in an instant. She sighed, dropped her tucked arms, and released a hopefully agreeing sounding chuckle.