Page 52 of Praising Haru

His lashes flutter.

I stroke his cheek. “I was thinking how fun this is. Hanging out together, I mean. Chatting via text was great, but this is better.”

“Yeah, it is.”

I clear my throat. “Any job offers?” It’s the best way of reminding myself that spending time together in person won’t last forever. I shouldn’t get too comfortable with having him around.

He flops against the back of the sofa and crosses his hands over his forehead. “Nope.”

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t think it would be this hard to find a new job. I’ve decided I need to set a time limit.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I don’t find a job designing clothes by a certain date, I should apply for anything and everything. I can’t sponge off my parents forever.”

“Anything and everything?”

“Yeah, you know. Anything I’d be even vaguely qualified for. I worked in a jewellery shop while I was at uni. I could do something like that again. How hard can it be to wait tables or pull pints? I kept my flat clean. I’m sure I could keep offices clean.”

I can’t imagine not doing what I love. I guess jobs as a brickie are easier to come by. “Would you look for a job in Leeds if you had to do that?”

Haru glances at me. “I dunno. Maybe. I might be better off looking in or around London so I’m close in case any openings come up in fashion houses. I wouldn’t stop trying to work in the fashion industry. I’d be earning money while I wait for someone to hire me.”

I want to tell him I’d miss him, but that wouldn’t be fair. Besides, he probably already knows. “What time limit are you thinking of?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are your parents getting on your case about getting a job?”

“No, nothing like that, but they shouldn’t have to support me.” He rubs his hands over his face. “Can we talk about something else? Like how hot you look in your rugby gear.”

I laugh. “Do you watch rugby?”

“No, but if I ever watch you play, I’ll dress cute and wave pompoms on the sideline.”

“American football has cheerleaders. Not rugby.”

“Really? Well, that’s dull.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, gorgeous.”

He shrugs. “I’d still like to watch you train one day. Am I allowed to ogle you in your rugby kit?”

“We’ve fucked. I think you’re allowed to drool over me, pretty boy.”

“We haven’t fucked since Sunday.”

“Phone sex doesn’t count?”

“That was on Sunday too, and no, it doesn’t, even if it was hot and the first time I’ve ever done that.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Wait. What? It was the first time you’ve had phone sex?”

“Uh-huh. You have no idea how hard it was to keep quiet so my parents wouldn’t overhear.” His shoulders sag. “That’s another reason to get any old job and get out of their hair. Privacy. It’s weird living with them again.”

“I can’t say I’d want to move back in with my parents,” I admit.