A Dangerous Shade of Peach - part 2

A shadow fell over her. Nataria looked up.

Senri stood there with the sun at his back, in nothing but light aqua board shorts that sat low on his hips. Droplets traced paths down the defined planes of his chest, over the taut line of his abdomen.

Nataria’s brain short-circuited.

All her internal pep talks about professionalism evaporated. She forgot how to form words, how to breathe, how to do anything but exist in the stunning, overwhelming reality of him.

He held out a drink, a strawberry milk, condensation beading on the plastic bottle. “Here,” he said, his voice a little rough from the pool water and laughter.

She took it, her fingers brushing his. A static shock, warm and fleeting. She noticed, with a delayed clarity, that he’d already given Momo and Sachiko their drinks. He’d saved hers for last. A chance to linger.

“Thanks,” she managed, the word feeling too small for the riot in her chest.

He didn’t move away immediately. He shifted his weight, the movement drawing her eye to the blush still on his cheeks. He was trying not to stare at her, she realized. His gaze kept flicking to her face, then away to the pool, then back, as if pulled by a magnet.

“How’s your ankle?” he asked, his eyes finally settling on hers.

“Better,” she said, instinctively pointing her sandaled foot. A faint yellow-green bruise, the ghost of her stumble, marked the skin. “Just a souvenir.”

His expression softened. “Good.” A pause. Then, quieter, “Nata-chan?”

Just like that. Two syllables, and she felt reckless heat climb her throat. She wanted to tell him. It makes me so happy when you call me that. She wanted to grab that courage sparking in her chest and leap…

Before she could speak, he did.

“There’s… something I want you to know,” Senri said, his voice dropping, meant only for her. The background noise of splashing and distant chatter faded into a dull roar. His gaze was utterly serious now, all traces of shyness burned away by a focused intensity.

“I’m doing my best to make it possible to tell you.”

What?

The world tilted. Her grip tightened on the cold bottle. Was he saying…? Could it possibly mean…?

Panic shot through her veins, followed by a wild, soaring hope that was infinitely more terrifying. Her mind raced.

Make it possible?

What did that mean? The show’s rules? His agency? The world outside this villa?

“Senri-kun, I…” she began, her voice unsteady.

“Nataria-chan! Come on!” Momo’s call shattered the moment. She and Sachiko were in the shallow end, a brightly colored volleyball bobbing between them. “We’re starting a game!”

The spell broke. Senri blinked, the intensity receding like a tide, replaced by a familiar, gentle amusement. He gave her a small, almost apologetic smile that made her heart clench.

“We should go,” he said, offering a hand to help her up from the lounger.

She took it, his palm warm and slightly calloused against hers. It was a simple, polite gesture. But as she stood, her balance slightly off-kilter on the wet tile, his other hand came up to steady her, and his touch landed on the bare skin of her waist.

They both froze.

It was just a point of contact, fingers on her skin, but it burned. A live wire of sensation shot up her body, straight to her core. Her eyes flew to his. His gaze had dropped to where he held her, his expression one of arrested shock. She saw his throat work as he swallowed. The air between them crackled, thick and heavy, charged with everything unsaid.

Then, as if scalded, they moved apart simultaneously.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, his cheeks flaming again.

“It’s fine,” she breathed, not trusting her voice.

She turned and walked toward the pool steps on legs that felt like gelatin, hyper-aware of his presence just a step behind her. Her mind was a screaming chorus of what did he mean what did he mean what did he mean, overlaid with the too-warm memory of his touch.

She floated to where Momo and Sachiko waited without knowing how she got there. Her body was on autopilot, or rather, two feet away, locked on the boy now slipping into the water beside her.

"First to ten points?" Shou suggested.

"You're on," Sachiko declared, and the competitive fire in her eyes was frankly adorable.

What followed was chaos.

This was supposed to be work, Nataria reminded herself. A planned activity for audience entertainment, carefully orchestrated to show their chemistry and camaraderie. But as Sachiko spiked the ball with surprising ferocity and Shou yelped in surprise, as Momo's laugh rang out bright and genuine, Nataria realized something.

She was having fun.

Fun she hadn't experienced in years, maybe ever. This was just... people. Friends, maybe. Playing in a pool on a summer day.

She laughed when Hibiki's attempted spike went wildly off-course and nearly hit Producer Aoyama, who watched from the sidelines. She cheered when Sachiko scored a point with a perfectly aimed hit. She even trash-talked a little, which earned her a mock-offended gasp from Momo and a grin from Senri that made her heart do backflips.

At one point, she threw the ball too enthusiastically. It sailed over everyone's heads, arcing through the air in a perfect parabola before landing with a splash at the far end of the pool.

"Nice one, Nataria-chan!" Momo called out, laughing.

"I'll get it," Senri said immediately.

Nataria watched him swim to retrieve it. He could have just grabbed it and thrown it back. That would have been the efficient thing to do.

Instead, he swam all the way back, the ball tucked under one arm, and handed it directly to her.

Their eyes met, and she saw the same awareness reflected back at her, the knowledge that this was significant, that every small touch was a conversation they were having without words.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Anytime." His voice was soft, meant only for her despite the cameras, despite the others watching

°❀°❀°❀°❀

The house was quiet, humming with the aftermath of a day spent in the sun. Nataria sat alone on the stone bench in the twilight-drenched garden, the scent of night-blooming jasmine heavy in the air. Her heart was a trapped bird against her ribs.

I’m doing my best to make it possible to tell you.

The words looped, each repetition sending a fresh wave of nervous exhilaration through her. She couldn’t live with the not-knowing. She couldn’t let the bubble pop in eight days with this hanging between them.

Her phone felt like a live grenade in her hand. She opened her messages, her thumb hovering over Hibiki’s name.

Nataria: You can give him my number.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. The message whooshed away, a point of no return. Immediately, a cocktail of panic, wild hope, and sheer terror flooded her. What are you doing? Her mind screamed. You’re risking everything.

But a deeper, more stubborn part whispered: You’re reaching for what you want.

As she sat there, paralyzed by her own audacity, movement caught her eye. Across the garden, near the back porch light, stood Shou. He had his phone to his ear.

His posture was all wrong. The usual theatrical looseness was gone, replaced by a rigid tension. He stood perfectly still, listening. Even from a distance, Nataria could read the set of his face, tight and defensive. It was the look of someone hearing something unpleasant and using every ounce of their training to keep their reaction off their face. She’d seen it countless times in waiting rooms after auditions, in the mirrors of training studios after a harsh critique. A professional mask slamming down over personal hurt.

Who was he talking to? His manager? A label executive? The smile he usually wore was nowhere to be seen. In the stark porch light, his face looked younger and utterly weary all at once.

He ended the call with a short, quiet word she couldn’t hear. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring into the darkness of the garden, his expression unreadable. This was a Shou she’d never seen.

Someone ought to ask if he’s alright, she thought, a flicker of empathy cutting through her own emotional storm.

But then he pocketed his phone, took a deep, visible breath, and as he turned to go inside, the familiar, charming smile slid back onto his face like a switch had been flipped. He never saw her in the shadows.

Her phone buzzed, lighting up in her hands. The screen displayed a notification from an unknown number.

Her breath hitched. The world narrowed to the glowing rectangle.

She opened it.

Unknown: Hi, this is Senri. Shimizu-san gave me your number. I hope that’s okay.

The air left her lungs in a soft rush. She stared at the words, a simple sentence that felt monumental. She typed, deleted, typed again, her fingers clumsy.

Nataria: It's more than okay.

She hit send, then immediately panicked. Was that too eager? Should she have played it cooler? Added an emoji? No, emojis were too casual, right? Or were they expected…

Her phone buzzed again.

Senri: I'm really glad.

Three words. Simple, straightforward, and they made her want to scream into a pillow.

Nataria: Me too.

She watched the three dots appear, indicating he was typing. Then they disappeared.

Nataria stared at her phone, her stomach twisting with anxiety. Had she said something wrong? Was he regretting this already? Five minutes felt like an eternity, each second stretching.

Just as she was about to type something, anything, a new message came through.

Senri: Sorry, my sisters video-called. They ambushed me.

Relief flooded her.

Nataria: That’s sweet. Everything okay?

Senri: Yeah. They just wanted to be the first to wish me a happy birthday.

Nataria stared at the screen.

Birthday.

His birthday.

A splash of realization, followed by a frantic, soaring urgency. His birthday. Tomorrow?

Nataria: Oh! It’s your birthday tomorrow?

Senri: Yeah. Not a big deal.

But it was. To her, it suddenly was everything. A deadline she hadn’t known existed. A chance to express.

Nataria: I see. Well, happy early birthday.

Senri: Thanks, Nata-chan.

There it was again, in text form. A little piece of intimacy glowing on her screen. She hugged her phone to her chest, a giddy, nervous smile breaking across her face in the dark garden.

She had to get him something. Not just anything. Something that had meaning.

The bubble hadn’t popped yet. The chapter wasn’t over. And as the first stars pricked through the violet sky, Nataria Hidomu, still terrified, still hopeful, began to plot the most important gift hunt of her life.