She rolled her eyes. “Am I ever! Everyone wants me to tell them how to say their name. And when I tell them their name would be the same in Japan, they want a Japanese name. And then they butcher the pronunciation. At least you speak English.”
“Aye, but they still all want to hear me say ‘Top o’ the morning!’ I don’t have the heart to tell them that’s Irish, not Scottish.” Not that Tamani knew that before he’d looked it up on the internet after the tenth time someone said it to him.
“And they want to know if I watch anime.”
“Do you?” Tamani asked, wondering what anime was. He’d have to ask Laurel later. If she’d speak to him.
She snorted. “No. I watch regular shows. HBO”—she ducked her head—“and, I admit, some Disney Channel.”
Tamani chuckled because it seemed like the right thing to do. He had no idea what he was laughing about. He’d learned about television, but had never really watched any. Without context it was hard to apply many of the terms he’d picked up at the Manor. And he’d never been able to keep all those acronyms straight.
“So how have you been?” he asked, serious now as he leaned on a set of monkey bars and studied her.
“I’ve been pretty good. Nothing exciting.”
“You don’t call last weekend exciting?” he said, smiling.
“Oh, um, yeah,” she said, flustered now. “That was exciting. I meant besides that.”
“Is Klea okay with it all?” Tamani prodded. “She didn’t seem too worried about the accident.”
“Yeah, well,” Yuki started, walking away from Tamani and stepping up onto a swing, grasping the chains to steady herself. “She’s in law enforcement and sees a lot of stuff like that. Even when she is worried, she doesn’t show it.”
“Are you happy living with her? Well, kind of living with her, like you said.”
“Sure. I don’t see her much, but it’s fine.”
Tamani went out on a limb now, knowing she wouldn’t show her cards unless he tipped his hand a little too. “You seemed . . . nervous when she came by. Scared, almost.”
Yuki grimaced, almost imperceptibly. “I wasn’t scared,” she said, lifting her chin a tiny bit. She’d coaxed the swing into swaying side to side. “I hate calling her off a job. She doesn’t like it. It’s not that she’s mean or anything, she’s just not the nurturing type. She expects things of me, and one of them is to stay out of trouble. It’s not a bad thing; she has big plans and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way.” There was a small hesitation. “I want to be like that someday,” she added quietly.
“I think you’re already like that,” Tamani said. He got behind her and grabbed the chains of her swing, pulling her carefully to a stop. Then he put one foot on the seat, wedging it between Yuki’s small sandals. Pushing off with his other foot, he stood and started them swinging, pressing his chest against her back. He felt her breath catch. “I worry about you being alone all the time. Dealing with her. She kinda scared me. I didn’t want to tell her I was the one driving.”
Yuki smiled up at him over her shoulder, clearly amused.
He hesitated, trying to time it for best effect. “If anything happens, if you get into trouble—with her, with anyone—will you tell me?”
She looked at him for a long time, their faces only inches apart, before she nodded slowly. “I will,” she whispered.
And for once, Tamani believed her.
Chapter Twenty
AFTER TAMANI DISAPPEARED HALF THE DAY AND ignored her the rest, Laurel got sick of trying to pretend that everything was fine and begged out of her usual study session at David’s house, telling him she needed some alone time. David accepted this stoically and without comment. Perhaps because they had spent the entire weekend either together or on the phone. Or maybe because once Tamani finally did get back, he spent the afternoon fawning over Yuki.
Once home, Laurel dragged her backpack behind her as she climbed the stairs, enjoying the way it thumped, sounding like a petulant child stomping up the steps. Come to think of it, she was feeling a little petulant. Tamani must have doped Ryan, even though he knew Laurel wouldn’t approve. And he had to know she knew. It was the only logical reason for him to ignore her like he had today.
She was not mad that Yuki had a crush on Tamani. That was his problem.
Laurel swung her bedroom door open and bit off a scream. Tamani was sitting on her window seat, a silver knife dancing an elaborate jig across his fingers.
“You scared me!” she said accusingly.
Tamani shrugged. “Sorry,” he said, the knife disappearing into his clothes somewhere.
Laurel pursed her lips and turned away, pretending to dig through her backpack. She heard him sigh as he stood.
“I am sorry,” he said, standing close behind her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You weren’t here when I arrived. So . . . I let myself in.”
“It was locked!” Laurel said. She had turned her key into the deadbolt not thirty seconds ago.
“Human locks? Please,” Tamani said. “May as well leave the door open.”
“You really shouldn’t be in here without permission,” she muttered, refusing to give up her anger so easily.
“I apologize. Again,” he said, the tiniest hint of tension entering his tone. “I hardly ever come in here unless I need to deliver something like”—he gestured almost aimlessly toward her table—“you know. It’s not like I stalk you or peek in your windows or anything.”
“Aye, but they still all want to hear me say ‘Top o’ the morning!’ I don’t have the heart to tell them that’s Irish, not Scottish.” Not that Tamani knew that before he’d looked it up on the internet after the tenth time someone said it to him.
“And they want to know if I watch anime.”
“Do you?” Tamani asked, wondering what anime was. He’d have to ask Laurel later. If she’d speak to him.
She snorted. “No. I watch regular shows. HBO”—she ducked her head—“and, I admit, some Disney Channel.”
Tamani chuckled because it seemed like the right thing to do. He had no idea what he was laughing about. He’d learned about television, but had never really watched any. Without context it was hard to apply many of the terms he’d picked up at the Manor. And he’d never been able to keep all those acronyms straight.
“So how have you been?” he asked, serious now as he leaned on a set of monkey bars and studied her.
“I’ve been pretty good. Nothing exciting.”
“You don’t call last weekend exciting?” he said, smiling.
“Oh, um, yeah,” she said, flustered now. “That was exciting. I meant besides that.”
“Is Klea okay with it all?” Tamani prodded. “She didn’t seem too worried about the accident.”
“Yeah, well,” Yuki started, walking away from Tamani and stepping up onto a swing, grasping the chains to steady herself. “She’s in law enforcement and sees a lot of stuff like that. Even when she is worried, she doesn’t show it.”
“Are you happy living with her? Well, kind of living with her, like you said.”
“Sure. I don’t see her much, but it’s fine.”
Tamani went out on a limb now, knowing she wouldn’t show her cards unless he tipped his hand a little too. “You seemed . . . nervous when she came by. Scared, almost.”
Yuki grimaced, almost imperceptibly. “I wasn’t scared,” she said, lifting her chin a tiny bit. She’d coaxed the swing into swaying side to side. “I hate calling her off a job. She doesn’t like it. It’s not that she’s mean or anything, she’s just not the nurturing type. She expects things of me, and one of them is to stay out of trouble. It’s not a bad thing; she has big plans and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way.” There was a small hesitation. “I want to be like that someday,” she added quietly.
“I think you’re already like that,” Tamani said. He got behind her and grabbed the chains of her swing, pulling her carefully to a stop. Then he put one foot on the seat, wedging it between Yuki’s small sandals. Pushing off with his other foot, he stood and started them swinging, pressing his chest against her back. He felt her breath catch. “I worry about you being alone all the time. Dealing with her. She kinda scared me. I didn’t want to tell her I was the one driving.”
Yuki smiled up at him over her shoulder, clearly amused.
He hesitated, trying to time it for best effect. “If anything happens, if you get into trouble—with her, with anyone—will you tell me?”
She looked at him for a long time, their faces only inches apart, before she nodded slowly. “I will,” she whispered.
And for once, Tamani believed her.
Chapter Twenty
AFTER TAMANI DISAPPEARED HALF THE DAY AND ignored her the rest, Laurel got sick of trying to pretend that everything was fine and begged out of her usual study session at David’s house, telling him she needed some alone time. David accepted this stoically and without comment. Perhaps because they had spent the entire weekend either together or on the phone. Or maybe because once Tamani finally did get back, he spent the afternoon fawning over Yuki.
Once home, Laurel dragged her backpack behind her as she climbed the stairs, enjoying the way it thumped, sounding like a petulant child stomping up the steps. Come to think of it, she was feeling a little petulant. Tamani must have doped Ryan, even though he knew Laurel wouldn’t approve. And he had to know she knew. It was the only logical reason for him to ignore her like he had today.
She was not mad that Yuki had a crush on Tamani. That was his problem.
Laurel swung her bedroom door open and bit off a scream. Tamani was sitting on her window seat, a silver knife dancing an elaborate jig across his fingers.
“You scared me!” she said accusingly.
Tamani shrugged. “Sorry,” he said, the knife disappearing into his clothes somewhere.
Laurel pursed her lips and turned away, pretending to dig through her backpack. She heard him sigh as he stood.
“I am sorry,” he said, standing close behind her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You weren’t here when I arrived. So . . . I let myself in.”
“It was locked!” Laurel said. She had turned her key into the deadbolt not thirty seconds ago.
“Human locks? Please,” Tamani said. “May as well leave the door open.”
“You really shouldn’t be in here without permission,” she muttered, refusing to give up her anger so easily.
“I apologize. Again,” he said, the tiniest hint of tension entering his tone. “I hardly ever come in here unless I need to deliver something like”—he gestured almost aimlessly toward her table—“you know. It’s not like I stalk you or peek in your windows or anything.”
