Episode Seven: Want to Try Having Sex With Me?
“Eh, how it works between two women?”
“Shh! Ritsu-san, your voice!”
A weekday afternoon at the café, customers thin on the ground.
A line so out of place for a mild teatime had come flying out of nowhere, and I scrambled to shush her.
Maybe she hadn’t caught the intent behind the question, because Ritsu-san just made a puzzled face and popped a macaron off the cake stand into her mouth.
Good thing I’d only seated her at the counter, where no other customers could overhear. I breathed a small sigh of relief.
As for why Ritsu-san was even at my part-time café — it’s because I’d invited her, telling her we had an afternoon tea set and she should come try it if she liked.
Not, of course, that I was drumming up business for the shop’s sake.
I had something I wanted to ask Ritsu-san, Yui-san’s friend.
And that something, well, loops right back around to the question at the very top.
I’d been surprised that on the very day I invited her, Ritsu-san swung by straight from campus.
Yui-san had said once, “Ritsu’s good thing is how light on her feet she is — invite her for drinks and she’ll always show up,” and apparently that wasn’t an exaggeration.
“…You could just ask Yui that, though. Wouldn’t that be faster?”
Chin propped on her hand, Ritsu-san’s drooping eyes studied me carefully. She had a point, honestly, but…
“…It’s too raw to ask the person directly.”
“Ohh, yeah… wouldn’t want her getting weird ideas and offering a hands-on demonstration, huh?”
Yui would totally do that, Ritsu-san said, laughing mischievously, and I shot her a resentful look in return.
“…Yui-san wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Aw, look at you, all attached already. Cute.”
Ritsu-san said it teasingly, but that wasn’t what I meant. What I wanted to say, again, was simply that since I’m not Yui-san’s type, there was no way she’d ever make a move on me.
“But honestly, I don’t actually know what Yui gets up to in bed. You don’t usually ask a friend for the play-by-play, right?”
“It’s not about Yui-san specifically, I mean… in general.”
“So… you want to know how it generally works, between two women?”
Leaning in over the counter, keeping her voice as low as she could, Ritsu-san asked, and I nodded, small.
It was pure curiosity.
Working through Yui-san’s logic as I understood it, it came down to this:
Relationships are too much hassle, so she doesn’t do girlfriends, but she still wants to sleep with cute girls.
But there was something I couldn’t wrap my head around. What does Yui-san actually get out of it?
Doing it over and over, without ever tiring of it, with no love attached — is sex between women really that good?
“Ah, I see… okay, so that’s where we’re starting.”
Ritsu-san wet her lips with the milk tea I’d recommended, then grinned, bold.
“Ask Yui next time — ‘Yui-san, which finger do you usually use?’ Ask her that, and I bet she’ll tell you exactly what you want to know.”
*
That was the advice I got that night. And the chance came, out of nowhere.
*
“Wait… my nails? You want to do them? Mine? Not your own?”
Nail file still in hand, Yui-san froze, wearing the exact face of someone who’d just been startled out of nowhere.
I’d only said, to Yui-san humming to herself in her usual spot on the sofa, filing her nails — let me do that.
With the polish stripped clean off, the scent of remover still lingering, her bare fingertips looked unusually fresh to me.
I remembered holding her hand the other day. Simple black polish over short nails.
Last week it had been deep navy, I think. Fingertips that change color this often somehow felt like a perfect reflection of how easily her interests shift.
“…Is something wrong?”
“No… nothing’s wrong, but…”
Ignoring how unusually halting she sounded, I took the file straight out of her hand. Settling in heavily beside her, I held my hand out. Come on.
Her right hand, offered reluctantly, I studied closely. I set the file against her nails, barely grown out at all, and Yui-san watched me, gauging my reaction.
“…Is doing someone else’s nails actually fun for you?”
Fun — if you asked me, not especially. But I figured this was my chance to study her hand up close.
“It’s fun.”
“…Hm.”
Filing evenly, shaping it the way I remembered her nails usually being kept, I moved the file along.
“But Yui-san, your nails are already so short there’s barely anything to work with.”
Filing or not, her nails, always so well maintained, only needed the length evened and the corners rounded off before snapping right back to their usual shape.
“Boring, right? It’s fine, you can stop.”
Sounding unusually restless, like she couldn’t quite take it anymore, Yui-san said it, and I just shook my head side to side, still gripping her right hand.
“That hand too.”
“Huh?”
I said it and turned my gaze to her left hand. No matter how I looked at it, there was nothing here that looked like it needed trimming either. A well-tended, feminine hand.
She didn’t seem to dislike having her nails done, exactly — more like she was a little flustered.
I’d noticed something off the moment she’d first offered her right hand. If you’re having someone else do your nails, you’d normally offer your dominant hand, the one that’s harder to manage yourself.
“…Yui-san, you’re left-handed, aren’t you.”
Even as I said it, I thought — what a needlessly obvious question, this late in the game. It’s not like I hadn’t noticed her holding chopsticks in her left hand at meals. I knew, and asked anyway.
“Yeah, I am… why?”
“Then…”
Steeling myself, I took her left hand. I braced for her to pull away, but she didn’t. I curled my fingers gently around her index finger.
“Is this the finger you use, when you’re with a woman?”
I could tell she’d caught her breath. Getting one over on the usually unshakeable Yui-san, even just this once, felt a little satisfying.
She hadn’t expected a question like that, apparently, because she looked at me straight on.
A look that seemed to be searching for the real reason behind the question. So I looked right back, refusing to lose ground.
There wasn’t really a reason. I just wanted to know her. More. Properly. Down to the deepest part of her.
After a long stretch of silence, Yui-san, apparently giving up, let out a small sigh.
“…Wrong.”
But the answer that came back wasn’t what I expected. Huh, wrong? I tilted my head.
“My ring finger’s longer than my index finger. So it’s the middle finger, and the ring finger.”
She curled her hand, as if confirming the length herself. It was true — I’d thought her fingers were just long and pretty, but her ring finger really was slightly longer than her index finger.
I gave her ring finger a small squeeze, and this time, her hand squeezed mine back. Her long fingers slid between mine, twining together, and wouldn’t let go.
“Hey… why do you want to know that?”
A moment ago she’d looked flustered, but somehow she was already back to her usual composed self. Asked so gently, I realized — ah, she’s taken control of the conversation.
I sent her a look, wanting my hand back, but Yui-san just smiled brightly and gripped it even tighter.
She was smiling, but her face said, clear as day: not letting you go.
“Um… well…”
Ritsu-san, you liar. She’d said asking it that way would get Yui-san to explain. It felt like I’d pressed some entirely different switch instead.
“…Ritsu-san told me to ask it like that.”
Sorry, Ritsu-san. Unable to bear it any longer, I let the name slip out.
“Hmm… You saw Ritsu? When?”
“Today… she came to my part-time job.”
“Huh. When did you two get that close? Kind of makes me jealous.”
Her mischievous thumb traced idly over our joined hands. She was smiling, but the grip on my hand had a slight, forceful edge to it — not quite the usual Yui-san.
“So, why’d Ritsu tell you to ask that?”
Every escape route closing off one by one, I finally glanced up at her, unable to bear it any longer.
Held under her gaze, it felt like she could see straight through to my heart, and I looked away without meaning to. Putting it into words felt far too likely to be misread.
Just as I thought that, the fingers of her free hand tipped my chin up from where I’d ducked it down.
Our eyes met, and I nearly forgot to breathe.
“…Hey, Kanata. There’s something you want to ask, isn’t there? I won’t understand if you stay quiet.”
Saying my name, on the verge of tears as I was, Yui-san’s voice came out far gentler than I expected.
“…I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. Pushing this back-and-forth any further would only dig me in deeper. I surrendered, apologizing, and Yui-san let out a small burst of laughter.
“Geez… what was that, that’s not fair.”
The tension that had been strung tight between us snapped, and she was smiling soft again, like always, and it left me thoroughly confused.
“But, Yui-san, you were mad…”
“Not mad, not mad.”
She pulled our joined hands and drew my head against her chest. Patted gently, again and again, and only then did I understand — I’d been forgiven.
“…Sorry, that was a tactless question.”
“It’s fine, I was just teasing you a little.”
Everyone’s got one or two things they’d rather not be asked about, and maybe I’d been thoughtless about it.
“So? What did you actually want to know?”
She asked, twirling my long hair idly between her fingers. I looked up at her too, rolling the nail file between my hands, restless.
“…I just got curious whether it’s really that good, between two women.”
Her hand went still, abruptly. Had I said something wrong again?
Her fingers stopped playing with my hair, and it slipped loose. A palm pressed gently against my back instead, slowly stroking down my spine.
I’d never been touched like this before, and the instant I thought to pull away, her arm looped around my waist, as if she’d seen it coming, and drew my body in close.
“…Interested?”
A sweet voice, whispered right against my ear. Startled, I went to push her shoulder back, but my hand was caught, effortlessly, and our eyes locked, straight on.
Eyes so deep in color they felt like they might pull me in.
“…Want to try having sex with me?”
“…Wha—!?”
Heat rushed to my face. I could feel myself going red by the second, and there was nothing I could do about my heart, hammering faster and faster.
Mischievous eyes, watching me. I couldn’t tell at all whether she was serious or joking.
It felt like being tested.
“Um, Yui-san, didn’t you say you like girls who are cute and not a hassle…?”
“You hear that from Ritsu?”
“I don’t think I qualify.”
Cute or not aside. I’m well aware I’m not “not a hassle.”
I’m the type who overthinks everything. Not someone who values riding the moment on pure momentum.
She had to know that too. Objectively, I’m hardly cut out to be the kind of playmate Yui-san actually wants.
“…What am I to you, Yui-san?”
Roommate. Her father’s friend’s daughter. A university underclassman. There are plenty of labels.
What exactly does she see, when she looks at me?
“Hmm… a cute, high-maintenance underclassman.”
She said it with a bright smile, and I wrenched my hand free with everything I had. I flung the nail file down and stood up.
“You idiot, Yui-san!”
I spat the parting shot and fled into my room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle it.
Yui-san didn’t come after me.
This time, I think the fault really was mine, and it was probably meant, on her end, as a little payback.
Even so — that wasn’t fair. There’s a limit to how far teasing should go.
I sank down against my bedroom door, sliding to the floor.
“Seriously, ugh, the worst…”
My heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
As if cutting straight through my confusion, my pocket buzzed. I pulled out the phone I’d left in there.
One notification on the chat app. Hayakawa Eita’s name floated up.
I’ll come by the shop tomorrow to return the umbrella, timed for when Aozawa’s shift ends. I’ll treat you to dinner as thanks.
I let out a sigh. Ugh, seriously, this is exactly why lending that umbrella in the first place turned into a hassle.
“…I’m not the one who lent it, so if he wants to thank someone, he should thank Yui-san…”
The muttering went nowhere, just echoing through the empty room. Dreading tomorrow’s shift already, I threw myself face-first onto the bed to shake the thought loose.