Secret - Hanamori Chisa Wants to Focus
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I wake up to my phone alarm.
Six-thirty in the morning. Morning sun stabs through the curtains.
Looks like I fell asleep on a call with Asami-san last night.
After the call cut off, a “goodnight” sticker came through from Asami-san. Some mysterious creature with an old man’s face.
What even is this. And she actually bothered to buy this sticker. I can’t help but laugh a little. This kind of taste really says something about a person’s character. So very Asami-san. I’d never pick something like this myself.
I wash my face, working toner and lotion carefully into my skin.
Cereal for breakfast.
I curl my hair firmly with the iron, brighten my eyes and cheeks with an orange-toned eyeshadow and apricot blush.
White puff-sleeve blouse, trench coat, flared skirt.
I walk toward the station, the click of my heels echoing.
The sales floor at work.
I put on my voice and call out, “Good morniiing~”
There’s no one left I actually need to charm anymore, and yet this tone of voice is basically a habit at this point. Ingrained since childhood. I just use it because it’s convenient.
I glance over at the desk diagonally across the same island. Asami-san’s in early again today.
Occasionally letting out a small yawn while typing. Frowning at the screen, clicking the mouse.
The moment I set my bag down on my desk, Asami-san suddenly turns this way. Our eyes meet.
For an instant, my heart gives a hard thud. I look away unconsciously and sit at my own desk like nothing happened.
Boot up the computer, check email.
Twenty unread.
Ah, I need to reply to last week’s client.
Have to handle that inquiry that came in too, before noon.
Mondays are busy from the morning.
Even thinking that, I find myself remembering Saturday night anyway.
The two of us watching a movie.
The distance between us closing, somehow.
Asami-san pushing me down onto the—
—That kiss was really something. Genuinely erotic.
No, no, what am I even thinking. Need to focus.
But before I know it, I’m looking at Asami-san again, diagonally across from me.
Asami-san’s narrow, sharp eyes. I love them. Sexy.
So serious and composed during work, and yet when it’s just the two of us, she gets clingy — that gap is unbearable.
“I’ll leave tomorrow’s materials on your desk.”
I set the documents on Asami-san’s desk. Expressionless, businesslike. Deliberately lowering the corners of my mouth, cold.
“Mm, thanks.”
Asami-san answers without looking my way, still typing. Her voice pitched low, detached.
Both of us being deliberately distant with each other is a little absurd, and it makes me want to laugh.
Afternoon.
I had business with accounting, two floors down, and stood waiting for the elevator, tablet in hand, mind elsewhere.
Tk, tk, tk.
A familiar sound of heels, approaching.
I glance over, out of habit. Asami-san. My heart gives a little leap.
Bag over her shoulder, trench coat on, our eyes meet.
“Good work out there.”
“Good work.”
“Client visit?”
“Yeah, appointment with B Trading.”
“Ooh. Big if you land that one.”
“Yeah, I’ll do my best.”
Asami-san narrows her eyes and smiles softly.
While waiting for the elevator.
In a voice small enough only I could hear, Asami-san leans in close and whispers.
“You fell asleep last night, huh.”
“I did. Your story went on too long.”
“Huh? It wasn’t that long.”
“It was long.”
Asami-san gives a small, awkward cough, then closes the distance even further.
“Anyway, so… your sleeping face was really cute.”
“…You didn’t seriously take a screenshot, did you?”
“Wh—! N-n-no, I didn’t.”
“Heh, so you did. So easy to read.”
Watching Asami-san panic so obviously, I laugh softly and shoot her a light, deliberate glare.
Ding.
A quiet chime, and the elevator doors open.
Inside the empty elevator, we stand side by side, backs to the wall.
Before I know it, the distance between us has closed. Close enough that our shoulders might or might not be touching.
I glance sideways at Asami-san; she’s looking back the same way.
Silence.
The backs of our hands touch.
I gently take hold of Asami-san’s hand.
Asami-san looks over, a little startled, then laces our fingers together and grips back tightly.
She bites her lower lip lightly, mouth pressed into a flat line.
I’ve only recently realized that’s a habit of hers when she’s embarrassed. Probably a way of keeping herself from grinning.
Then, Asami-san’s fingers slowly start stroking the base of my fingers.
The motion is unusually smooth, strangely sensual.
A shiver runs up my spine. From my fingertips, up through my arm, a heat seems to seep down into the depths of my body.
My whole body aches involuntarily. My breath nearly catches.
…This should be illegal.
The elevator’s floor numbers tick upward.
—Not much longer left.
I find myself wishing this time wouldn’t end yet.
The moment the panel shows our destination floor, we both let go, at the same instant, without either of us leading.
—Right then.
Asami-san leans in and whispers in my ear.
“…Let’s continue this some other time.”
My heart gives one loud, heavy thud.
What is that. Teasing me like this. This person is seriously unfair.
Before I can answer, ding, the elevator doors open.
And then—
“Today’s… good.”
Still facing away from Asami-san, I leave those words behind and step off the elevator.
Words that slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
I’m aware, myself, that my voice came out in a slightly clingy tone.
Walking down the hallway on the lower floor, I can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth. I hide it with my hand without meaning to. My ears and face are hot.
I catch Sugano-san in accounting and talk through the system issue.
“Sugano-san, good work out theeere.”
“Hanamori-san, good work.”
“The data extraction, is next week okay~?”
“Ah, no problem at all.”
Talking to a male coworker in that clingy voice. The usual habit.
Even talking work with a completely different person, thinking back to that moment with Asami-san earlier makes my face heat up.
The warmth of Asami-san’s hand, the sensation, still lingers at the base of my fingers.
Her words from earlier stay lodged in my ears, echoing over and over.
Replaying in my head, and something deep in my body aches with a sharp little pull each time.
—Like this, pretending to just be doing normal work. Pretending to be strangers.
But only I know it. Asami-san’s real face.
This secret relationship, somehow, is unbearably exciting.