Hazed behind the whisps of smoke and oversized sweatshirts from Hollister, Kenji Tanaka is a sassy, sharp-tongued omega, and he meets Meena - the son of a notorious crime boss posing as a legitimate businessman to anyone in law enforcement - who wou...
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When Kenji opens his eyes, the hazy numbers in white read 2:30 on his antique, pale-orange alarm clock — that Beau picked up from a thrift store and spent three hours turning on.
His cheeks were burning and his mind was reeling from a sensual dream starring Meena. Even with his eyes now open, shifting images of Meena's lips tracing the peaks of his dark nipples and his inner thighs flashed through his head. Kenji glanced down at the red marks prominent on his pale skin, from his elbows down to the cusp of his faded veins, and he imagined the scratches on Meena's tattooed arms and bare back instead.
Kay purrs at the thought, and Kenji guessed he was baring his neck inside his mind.
Kenji's curtains billow from the whispers of the wind outside his window. He caught glimpses of the wispy clouds shielding a golden crescent from the wind's caresses when the fabric was drawn back repeatedly.
He ripped his quilt-like duvet off his body and turned on his phone flashlight, the thought of coffee leading him to the kitchen.
Airy, he tip-toed down the carpet-covered hallway — the tufts of beige and warm-brown snagged. The golden sliver of the moon was fully visible now, the windows stripped of curtains. Faint stars dusted the pitch-black sky, tangled up behind leafy branches and thin clouds.
Kenji re-filled the water reservoir of the red Keurig with fresh, lukewarm water before snapping a mocha K-cup into the holder.
He pours creamer into the large mug of dark liquid until he reached the rim.
Kenji's hands cradle the mug, basking in the shadows of the moon, as he sipped the coffee that left traces of chilled whipped cream on his lips.
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Elevator doors parted to let Meena out on Kenji's floor. Patterned purple and gold carpet soft under his steel-toed boots, Meena's fist tapped on the paint-chipping door. The brass above his knuckles amplified the knock.
A half of a minute passed before Riku cracked open the door. He stood there in floor-length plaid, pajama pants and a grey shirt. ❝Meena, hey. Kenji will be down in a couple minutes. He's finishing packing.❞
Meena half-smiled politely, but an awkward aura between he and Riku still remained. He was biased against the eldest Tanaka because of how he had abandoned Kenji — in Meena's opinion at least. He admitted to Kenji that he'd punch him in the jaw if he hurt him again when he heard about Riku's struggle with addiction.
Meena almost sighed in relief when Kenji appeared in the doorway. His patch-adorned, pale-blue suitcase trailed behind him on a set of sqeauling wheels. ❝Okay, I'm ready,❞ he chirped. He didn't mention the discomfort between Meena and Riku.
❝Great. The airport is thirty minutes away. You can put your suitcase in the bed, shortcake.❞ Kenji froze, open-mouthed, when he saw the polished, red truck in the driveway. Lifted above the gravel and Platinum etched on the driver's side. Meena picked up on his awed expression and raised an eyebrow, amused. He didn't have to elaborate on the model because Kenji hopped into the passenger seat.
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❝Do you prefer classic or modern literature?❞ Kenji muses — half-closed eyelids fanned by the cold air from the vents and scuffed, combat boots crossed at the ankles on Meena's dash.
❝Definitely modern. Reading about straight, white men who's only problem is finding a wife sickens me. I prefer a diverse character with broader problems than classic literature. And even when the protagonist is female, she ends up marrying someone in the end.
If Jane Austen was so progressive, she'd leave her characters single because we both know she would've been arrested like Oscar Wilde if Elizabeth Bennett was lesbian or Catherine Moreland was written as trans.❞
Kenji hums in agreement, though he doubted Jane Austen would have dared to have female love interests regardless of society's response. He always thought she'd be homophobic if she was alive today. ❝What's your favorite book, then?❞
❝From an educational standpoint, Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison or Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, but for pleasure reading, I like The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchinson. The burning philosophical question of if the thriller was of flawed beauty or of a beautiful tale of the flaws of humanity fascinated me.❞
Kenji blinked at his side profile, nodding slowly. He's never read any of those books. The only classics he read was Pride and Prejudice his sophomore year, and Emma when he was a junior, neither out of his own free will. He was far from an avid reader.
Meena recognized the confused pinch of his eyebrows, and laughed briefly before saying, ❝I prefer books with more depth than what's on the surface.❞ A smile teased the heart shape of his mouth. ❝I'm the same with people.❞
The reply Kenji planned on saying died on his tongue when Meena parked his truck in front of the airport. The gentle, spring breeze tousled Meena's cockscrews, jingling his keys like wind chimes on a porch when he jumped onto the rough asphalt.
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❝Five glasses of champagne and a rosè, please,❞ Mustafa told a flight attendant with pinned-up dark hair.
❝Of course,❞ she replied.
Kenji exchanged a brief glance with Juno, both of them agreeing they'd have to find a way to pay back the Khaleds.
Kenji had been willing to fly commercial. He could afford that. Mustafa had waved him off, though, flashing six first-class tickets to the flight attendant boarding them like a hand in poker.
Even though Kenji knew that the trip was for Aafiya's birthday and wasn't skin off Kamal Khaled's back, he still felt guilty at the thought of someone else paying for him. But he hadn't admitted that to anyone apart from Juno. As much as he trusted Meena, he didn't want to confess to him he felt like a burden.
The sound of clinking glasses echoed in the air before four of them downed the array of gold and pink liquid with their fingers wrapped around the flutes — all but one of them with their hand bare. Kenji and Juno sipped the chilled, expensive liquor with distant eyes staring at the blurry ocean below them.
Hey y'all! Did you enjoy the aftermath of Meena's drunken phone call? Don't worry, that's not the last of the steam in the upcoming chapters. 😉🔥 Did you like seeing Riku again? How was Meena's truck?
Did you enjoy Keena's conversation about literature? Did you expect Meena to be an avid lover of the classics? (I actually have a future character based on that addition to his personality in mind).
And finally, do you think Kenji and Juno bottling up that they're bothered by the amount of money spent on them to themselves is a good idea?
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