The Strongest | ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

Chapter 38

I can imagine him frowning behind the blindfold as he tilts his head to the side. "Can I come in?"

"No?!" I don't know why he wants to come in. Is this a joke? He's never been in my room before. Not with me in it, too, at least. He's been in here plenty of times on his own, I know that, but... I mean, I've also been in his room quite a few times and never when he was there, so...

He laughs once, shortly, before going back to grinning down at me. "No?" he repeats in disbelief.

All I can do is nod because I can't even explain to myself why on earth I just said no. This man is standing here, asking me to come inside my room, and I'm saying no? Have I lost my mind? Then again... he's had plenty of opportunities to ask me that at the hotel whenever we got back from dinner, but he never did. Why now? Why here?

Maybe my mind is in the gutter for no reason. I've been wrong before. Maybe he's not here for sex, and I suddenly feel bad for immediately jumping there. Maybe he's just here to talk. He deserves the chance to do that. After all, he's just made a fool of himself in front of the whole staff only for my amusement.

"Sure, okay," I finally say and open the door a little more to let him in. Before I close it behind him, I stick my head out and look up and down the hallway just to check if anyone's there. No one. Not even Shoko. Relief washes over me. No one would believe that we're still fighting if they saw this. That's all I'm concerned about.

When I turn around, I'm grateful for the dim light in here because I'm blushing like an idiot when I see Gojo standing there, looking around a little helplessly. I'm pretty sure he didn't really think this through. His eyes seem to find the pictures I have on my dresser, and there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Your sister?" he asks, pointing at one picture showing me, age five, in the arms of my sister, both of us laughing.

I nod. "Yes." I walk over to my bed and sit down, then hesitate for a moment. My bed is big enough that we can both sit down and still be far enough away from each other, but I don't know what he wants, so I don't know if asking him to sit is inappropriate. Instead, I ask, "Do you want to sit?"

Gojo turns around to look at me and nods once before joining me. I pull my feet in and sit down cross-legged, so I'm not touching him. The king-sized bed suddenly feels way too small.

"What are you doing here?" I ask again, but I'm suddenly not sure anymore if I really want to know. Or is all that really matters the fact that he's here, in my room, on my bed, in the dim light of my bedside lamp, after a week of us unexpectedly getting along? Or the fact that my heart is fluttering inside my chest so much that it almost hurts and that it feels as if I can't get enough air because I take too many too small breaths. So, really, does the reason matter?

However, even if it doesn't matter, I still care. If he has something to say, which, let's be honest, he probably does, I want to know. He wouldn't just show up here and ask to come in if he didn't have a reason for it. I want to know what's going on inside his head and in his heart, too. I want to know everything. But I know... I know that he won't tell me everything, not the whole entire truth. Not just like that.

"I just wanted to see you," Gojo says, and my eyes snap up to his blindfold. Oh, how much I wish I could see his eyes.

I swallow. Hard. What do I say now? Why is it so hard to say something? What am I afraid of? Saying the wrong thing, something that would make him leave? And when did I become someone who cared about what they said? No, you know what? I won't let myself behave like this. We've had talks before, and we spoke for hours on the phone a few days ago. This is not that different.

"Okay, this..." I wave my arms around, "this tension thing isn't working. Loosen up."

To my relief, Gojo laughs and shakes his shoulders as if he's literally trying to physically loosen up. It makes me grin, and the tension is gone. "Done," he says, an accomplished grin on his lips. "No tension."

"Good." I nod. "Now, tell me what on earth moved you to pull such a spectacle during dinner. You do know that Yaga won't like this."

Gojo smirks. "Yaga doesn't rule my life, so I don't really care if he likes what I do or not. As for what moved me... let's just say there were multiple factors involved."

I raise my eyebrows. "Was I one of those factors, by any chance?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, okay. The bet is still on, by the way. About you not lying for a whole day," I inform him.

"Oh, no, it's not. You lost. That's it."

I lean back and give him a judgemental look. He can't just- Actually, he can. He's right. I lost the bet, he won, and that concludes it. I narrow my eyes, and his grin widens in response. He's too cocky for my liking. Besides, how are we supposed to move forward in... liking each other... if I can never be sure if he's honest or not?

As if he's heard my thoughts, as if he knows exactly what I'm afraid of, Gojo's smile softens, and he says, "How about, just for tonight, we'll both say the truth? We'll just say whatever we're thinking."

My face goes blank, and my heart rate accelerates. "Even if the other might not like it?"

He nods without a second of hesitation. "Especially then."

I'm not sure about this. I don't know what he could say that I might not like, but that's not my concern. My concern is that I'm thinking a lot of things that he might not like. For example, the fact that right now, he's reminding me of the night I woke up in his hotel bed, hurt and healing. Or the fact that I haven't stopped thinking about him since he said to me that he made the right decision by not going after the waitress. Or that I will never forget the way he looked at me when I came to dinner in my black dress. I'm sure he doesn't want to hear those things.

Despite all of this, despite what he might like to hear and what not, I agree. Because I really, desperately need to tell him. Even if he might hate me again and walk out of here right now, and our fights won't be jokes anymore again, I at least want him to know. And I want to know his truth. His whole entire truth. Everything.

When our hands meet to shake on it, there's a little electric shock between our skins, and we laugh. I laugh even though, deep down, I believe that this was a sign.