Honestly, I'm a little jealous

“So, I have a boyfriend now.”

Just saying it gives me the chills. It’s unbelievable, as in I don’t believe it’s real, but it is. Otherwise I wouldn’t be fighting off a grin right now as I somewhat proudly, but mostly shyly proclaim it to Ichika.

“What?” she says and her confusion can mean many things, not all scary. Maybe she didn’t hear me because she’s getting her curls straightened and blow-dried and I was whispering in a busy salon. Or maybe she’s surprised that the girl who said she’d rather crap in her hands and clap than willingly touch a guy has willingly held hands with a guy – without crapping in them. Or maybe she’s actually confused. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I wanted you to know.”

“Luca told me already.”

My jaw drops through the floor and I only salvage it when Ichika gets out of the hairdresser’s seat, smelling like 50 thousand yen worth of conditioners and serums, which do not help with my recovery. Nonchalantly, she twirls her arm around mine, then leads me down the boulevard for a stroll that is anything but leisurely, since I’m still trying to process the how’s and when’s and where’s and, most importantly, the –

“Why did he tell you?”

“Because I asked him?”

“Why did you ask?”

“Because it came up during conversation?”

“Why are you talking to him?”

“Okay you’re just doing it on purpose right now.”

I’m not – I swear – but I can’t tell if I’m more baffled by the fact that my ever-so-taciturn sweetheart broke the news to her first, or that she’s so uncharacteristically nonplussed about it. More than that, she seems – almost happy? So much so that she’s decided to continue our date to a bougie patisserie nearby. Ordered two of her favourite choux-a-la-creme just to creep me out even further.

“You’re staring,” she points out, carefully scooping the creme out of the choux. “And now that you’re not single, it’s not flattering anymore. It’s just uncomfortable, bordering on scary.”

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah? Why?”

“Because I’ve just told you I got a boyfriend and your head is still in its socket.”

“Of course,” Ichika shrugs with a slight chuckle. “I like Luca. He’s nice.”

And that’s the problem – he is nice. And affectionate and understanding and just being around him makes me get all giddy like firecrackers are going off all over my skin because he’s also super hot, I’m talking ancient Greek abs on a boyish face to hit all the aesthetic hotspots and – I’m gushing so hard I’m getting carried away, but the point is! What’s my point again?

Right, something’s wrong. Not nemesis wrong, but damn near to it because a lifetime of scraping by through dishonest means should not have such a handsome reward. Should not have a reward at all, unless the gods are trying to Icarus me, which wouldn’t surprise me, as it would be the crowning epitome of an orphic tragedy. In other words and in short –

“You’re getting in your own head again,” Ichika says, paying our bill with a Fukuzawa and tipping with 3 tachibana. She’s just clearing her purse of change, but the irony is still thick like smog.

“How did you know?”

“Well, if sitting in anxious contemplation for five minutes wasn’t enough of a giveaway, I know you. Remember when I offered to pay for your rent? You told me that –”

“I need to do that on my own.”

“And I respect that. But, first, you had to stress that I shouldn’t be throwing away money like that.”

“Well, yeah? You might think it grows on trees, but it’s actually –

“Not a waste, Hibana. That was the implication, wasn’t it?”

I’m not sure if she realises it, but her gentle tone and careful demeanour make her all the more terrifying an inquisitor. And since nobody expects this kind of lucid wisdom out of her – not even me, her best friend – I can’t help feeling being put in the tightest spot by the warmest of words.

“Should I be wasting my breath trying to convince you that you’re not as bad as you think you are?” Ichika asks, as we straddle along the edge of Hanami river. It’s kinda mad how rural and undeveloped the street – or footpath, actually – looks, especially with how urban everything was only a couple corners ago. Goes to show Chiba has as many layers as a green ogre.

“No.”

“You sure? I got some premium ammo now. Like military grade, armour-piercing, high-explosive, hollow-point, tracer rounds.”

“You’re just saying words now.”

“Because you won’t let me explain!”

Seeing her pouting, I prepare to silently object (aka. Shut up and pray she will too), but something clicks inside of me and I sigh instead. “Fine. Shoot.”

In instant hindsight, that was a bad move. Not only is Ichika easily-excitable – as I feel most Ichikas tend to be – but there’s also the copious amount of pleasure she derives from proving herself right. This unfortunate duet of traits makes her insufferably smug whenever she is trying to argue with someone, which is all the harder to endure when you actually like her and have no other choice but to complaisantly listen.

“It’s pretty straightforward, actually. You can’t be awful if you have a boyfriend,” Ichika states, or rather declares, as she skips a stone across the calm waters. Six bounces. Half of her personal best and twice mine.

I cross my arms, “So what you’re saying is – he’s the one giving me value.”

“Genuine question, do I look like a traditional wife to you?”

Ballerina slip-ons and a long-sleeved, floral dress. “You’re not gonna like my answer.”

“Ahem, are you done?”

“Are you?”

“If Luca were to say seeing you makes his heart skip a beat, would you a) blush, or b) –”

“Concerned about premature ventricular contractions.”

“Exactly! Because you only see the negatives of every good thing!” Ichika yells, her exasperation teetering between playful and vein-popping. To my relief, instead of continuing to shout, she chuckles and lowers her voice to a kind simmer. “And no matter how intelligent or hilarious or good looking you might be, no one likes a chronic pessimist. Especially when all they do is sell themselves short.

“But, to get into a relationship you have to put your best foot forward. Show off, rather than put off. And maybe you didn’t do it all the time, and maybe you still don’t believe it to be true, but I don’t think Luca is dating you because you were a little hot mess. Rather, I like to imagine that, even if only for a while, he helped you see how great you actually are.

“Honestly, I’m a little jealous.”

There’s a lot to unpack here and frankly, I don’t have the capacity to do it all. Because Ichika’s right and her being right is an impossible to overstate premiere, especially given the subject matter and even more so because – you know what, I’m not going to let my thoughts run amok. Not again and hopefully, not anymore.

In all fairness, when Luca told me he liked me, in his clumsy and forever endearing way, I shut down. It was a dream come true, and for someone who’s only ever had night terrors, the bliss sent me over the moon so fast, that gravity spun me round in a narrow orbit and slingshot me back to earth. I began wondering what I did to make it happen, what sleight of hand I pulled to get him to fall for me.

The venus flytrap of often and prolonged physical contact. Bringing him sweets, sharing my lunch, keeping him away from the underworld, all deceitful acts of service to keep him dependent on me. Then I would just pretty myself up a couple times, sparking and feeding an infatuation, and a confession was sure to come sooner rather than later.

But thinking like this – it’s so painful and dumb.

For long now, too long, I’ve been conditioned to believe that feeling good was selfish. A malicious joy, resulting from underhanded tactics, when in fact – it’s fine. It’s okay to do things for someone because you like them and you want them to like you back. And when they end up reciprocating your crush, the kind you’ve historically ignored or discarded, well – that’s allowed. I’m allowed to not be miserable. I’m allowed to be content with myself.

It’s why I’m not gonna bother hiding my smirk anymore.