Sleeping Beauty and Valentine’s Day, Just a Little into the Future

In the end, the right answer was mail order.
There are all kinds of options — homemade, touring the department store basement food halls — but no matter how you look at it, ordering chocolates online is the easiest and, without question, the most reliably delicious.

Last year’s Valentine’s, when Ibara had declared with great enthusiasm I’m making them myself!, wasn’t bad exactly — but that was more of an activity than a gourmet experience.
The girl who was a high schooler back then is now a third-year university student come April.
Apparently keeping busy with thesis prep and studying for credits.
Or so I’m told.
We’d made a promise last year — that was fun, but next time let’s just leave it to the professionals — and honoring it, we each browsed mail order sites and placed our chocolate orders.
Those orders arrived today. February 13th. We’ve just gotten out of the bath, and the date is about to turn.
No, it already has.
Past midnight, February 14th. Our fourth Valentine’s Day.

“Yaaay.”

“Hold on.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what. Why are you trying to open the box……”

“Because I’m going to eat it?”

“Now? It’s the middle of the night.”

There is no world in which eating chocolate at this hour is acceptable.

“It’ll be fine. Have some too, Shigure-san.”

“Ehh……”

I’m nearly in my late twenties now. Indulging in ganache at midnight is a little — while I was wavering, Ibara produced something inadvisable from the shelf.
Alcohol.
Whiskey she had steeped with large-grain strawberries and rock sugar before the new year.
And glasses, and well-chilled sparkling water.

“Wait, wait, Ibara-san.”

“Come on, come on. Let me pour for you.”

“Pour for me?”

“Practice for working life.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

These days, any company that pressures you into pouring drinks for others is one you should quit, and there’s certainly no reason to go out of your way to do it.
Also, I’d rather she didn’t. Please don’t.

“Then just for Shigure-san, as a special exception.”

Glug glug — she pours the sparkling water into the liquid, which is the color of dissolved rubies.
The deep red dilutes, shifting into a pale cherry blossom pink.
Countless bubbles rising to the surface, like scattered stardust.

“Here, drink up.”

“Where do you pick this stuff up?”

“Circle drinking parties at university.”

“………………”

“Ah — Shigure-san, you’re jealous right now.”

Ibara became old enough to drink last May.
That’s been roughly ten months. She’s had her share of drinking parties by now, obviously — but nothing worth noting particularly happened at any of them.
I know that.
I know, but.

“Cute.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Liar.”

“Going to drinking parties is normal, you know.”

“But you always message me a ton when you do.”

“Well, that’s——”

“Possessive type~”

“I worry about you. If you don’t like it I won’t do it anymore.”

“Mm-mm. It’s fine, really.”

Ibara pours herself a second glass, her own portion.
Clink — the rims of the glasses meet, and a light, windchime-like sound rang out.
We each pop a chocolate from the box the other ordered into our mouths.
The bright fragrance of lemon peel and a rich sweetness dissolved on the tongue.
Following it with a sip of the strawberry highball, it really was delicious.

“——So good.”

Knocking back half the glass in one go, Ibara breathed out a slow hoo. Her makeup should have been off by now, yet her lips caught the light in a wet gleam, deeply alluring.

“Drink yours too, Shigure-san.”

“One glass is enough for me.”

This girl is a bottomless drinker. Keeping up with her would end badly.

“But tomorrow’s a day off, isn’t it.”

“That’s true, but.”

“I want Shigure-san to let herself go a little, for the first time in a while.”

Ibara leaned her weight against me and rested her chin on my shoulder.
With a flowing, fluid touch, she stroked my knees and thighs through the long skirt.
My brain went pleasantly numb at the gentle stimulation.
No matter how many times she touches me, I still can’t get used to it.
My heart races.
There isn’t a single place on my body that Ibara hasn’t touched — and yet.

“I’ll spoil you lots, just like at Christmas.”

“……I told you to forget about that……”

“Ehh~?”

She laughed, soft and kitten-like. Adorable. You get used to beautiful people in three days — what an absolute lie.
Because even now, I find myself captivated with the same freshness as always.
This girl really does have a beautiful face.

“It’s good that this is a house, isn’t it. If it were the old apartment, the neighbors would definitely be banging on the walls.”

“…………Idiot.”

“Nhehe.”

She smiled that knowing smile and buried her nose against my neck.
A slow suuu of breath in, and then a haa of warm breath out.

“You smell good.”

Her lips made a wet sound. A warm tongue trailed along my neck.
Her palm had, as if by magic, slipped beneath my clothes before I’d noticed.

“No, no, stop that.”

“Why?”

“Why — because…… we did it just yesterday.”

“But yesterday——”

She pursed her well-shaped lips.

“You were so gentle with me. So today is my way of giving back.”

Ibara took a mouthful of the strawberry highball.
A bad feeling ran down my spine.

“——Mm.”

Without preamble, my lips were sealed.
Glug glug — alcohol poured into my mouth. Sweet, with a faintly smoky scent.
The overflow trickled from the corner of my lips and dripped. I need to stop this. It’ll stain my clothes.
And yet my lips, my tongue, my throat — none of them would listen to me.
Gulp. The alcohol burned down my throat. Foolish. I let my guard down.
Ibara made hers stronger than mine.

“Mm, gh——”

My vision lurched.

“……I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll stop.”

I want to say that’s not fair. But it isn’t. Ibara is simply sincere. She always has been.
Since back then. Since the very beginning.
That’s why I always end up giving in.

“——Oh, fine, it can’t be helped……”

Even I thought it was a terribly excuse-like thing to say.
I placed a chocolate in my mouth and reached for Ibara’s glass.
Rolling the sweet ganache against my tongue until it dissolved, I downed what remained of the highball in one go.
A flash of regret crossed my mind — what a waste of a good chocolate. Such an expensive one, too.
Oh well.
Ibara’s eyes had gone wide.
The sweet liquid burned its way down my esophagus.
My pupils must have dilated — for a moment, a bright light dazzled my eyes.
A haze settled over my thoughts. My heart began to pound and pound, faster and faster.
The shackle of reason snapped and went flying, all the way to the far edge of the night sky.
I longed for a warmth that wasn’t my own.
But not just anyone’s.

“……Make me feel good. Properly.”

I entreated the girl who was still seven years my junior.
Understood — nodding with an expression of grave sincerity, Ibara’s fingers undid the second button from the top of my pajamas.