Arisa

"Thank you... for the semester... Arisa Matsuda." My mouth traces the words as I finish signing off the email and hit send. And then I lean back in my chair, shooting a grin at Jenna.

"Are you done?" She smiles, looking up from her phone.

"I'm done!" I put my hands above my head in a stretch.

"I'm so proud of you," she laughs, closing my laptop for me. "Now. What do you want for dinner?"

We quickly decide on Mexican ("Now that Brandon and I are over, I can eat all the Mexican food I want." Jenna says snidely as we pull on our jackets.) and head out. Here in Northern California, late May is sunny but not too sunny--it's still good to have another layer for the evenings. Today is no exception, because even though the sun feels great on my face, the wind is cold.

When I first moved here from Texas, I was surprised to find that it wasn't nearly as hot as I thought it would be, since my school was in California, and all. But after four years, I've finally learned from my mistakes. And now, I pack a jacket.

"I hope this place never goes out of business," Jenna says, shifting back and forth on her feet.

"There's no way it will." The line for the taco place goes all the way down the block, but neither of us mind. The line moves fast enough, anyways, and as long as you have cash to pay you're usually sitting on the curb with your food in less than twenty minutes.

"They'd better not! I swear, those quesadillas are the best I've ever had."

"Jenna, you're from West Virginia. Aren't these just about the only quesadillas you've ever had?"

"I had quesadillas before." She huffs.

"Grocery store tortillas and shredded Mexican cheese don't count." She doesn't say anything, leaving me grinning by myself.

"Anyways." She says after a moment. "Have you decided whether you're going out with me tomorrow night?"

"I don't know," I say, taking a step forward as the line shifts. "You know it's not really my thing."

"Pleeeease." She puts her arm in mine and pastes on a pout. "Kutasaaaaa, Arisa-chan?"

"It's kudasai," I correct her with a laugh, removing her arm from mine. "And never call me that again."

"Okay, well I don't want to go alone. But I really want to go out, blow off some steam. Aren't you ready to party just a little bit? You've been working so hard ALL semester. I've been so bored."

I sigh. Because she's right.

Jenna's a communications major, which... while it's completely valid as a major, the workload is quite different than computer science. And at our school, where the compsci capstone is unnecessarily difficult and intense ('doing a consultant project for these small businesses will be great work experience for your resumes', they said--'bullshit', I said) I really have barely spent any time with her.

"Maybe."

"Yay!" Jenna says, linking our arms again. "I promise you'll have so much fun."

"Hmph." I say, but both of us know I don't mean it.

We order our food, Jenna with her quesadilla and me a torta, and soon we're sitting on the curb with our paper plates between us. As soon as we start eating, my phone goes off.

"Ugh." She rolls her eyes as I pull it out.

"I have to check my email." I say through my mouthful of bread, clicking on the notification.

******

Subject: Re: Final Project ENG 436 - Arisa Matsuda.

Hey Arisa! Just confirming I got your email before the deadline. When you get a chance, can you try resending the file? It's telling me it's corrupted. Should be an easy fix.

Thanks, Noah.

******

"Ugh," she says again, putting down her quesadilla. "Are you serious, Riri? You said you're done."

"Hold on." I manage to say while downloading and attaching the file on my phone. "He said there's something with the file. I just need to resend it."

Jenna shoots me a meaningful glare that I refuse to acknowledge, and then picks her food up again. "I still can't believe you'd take a class like that for fun."

"For goodness' sake, Jenna, you're a comm major." I type out a quick thanks and then send my reply.

"Yeah, but we don't sit around writing play pretend all day." She scoffs as I put my phone back down.

"It just sounded fun." I shrug.

My phone pings. I look down and, to my surprise, see a long response from Noah.

******

Subject: Re: Final Project ENG 436 - Arisa Matsuda.

Thanks for being quick with it Arisa! It's working now. It's been a pleasure having you in class.

I know you'll be graduating soon and wanted to wish you luck going forward. Shame you weren't in the creative writing program, would've loved to see more of your writing. I feel bad even mentioning that when you're in compsci--after all, we both know where the money's at.

Keep writing! Noah

******

Despite myself, it makes a smile spread across my face. I wasn't expecting to receive any praise about my writing. I only took the class because it felt like the perfect intersection between two things: the first being the last arts credits I needed before graduating. The second thing was my darkest secret, hidden in encrypted folders and saved on an SSD that never left my sight. That is, my hobby writing and posting erotica online.

"Damn, he's making you smile, now?" Jenna wipes her fingers on a napkin. "I thought you said his

prose was dry

."

She's laughing at me now.

"First off, I would never have said that in front of you if I'd know you were going to be a dick about it. And secondly, he just sent me some compliments about my writing. You don't have to knock on my hobbies."

"I was just making fun of my sensitive little Arisa." She says. Despite her sarcastic tone, she's apologizing--and we're close enough that I don't make a fuss about it. "Maybe I'm just jealous because Mister Handsome Writerpants has gotten to read your writing and I haven't."

"You don't even read." I groan. As far as Jenna knows, I'm only private about all my writing because I'm deathly afraid of being made fun of, or something of that sort. She doesn't know that it's because all of my writing contains intense sex scenes that would make even her blush, maybe doubly so if she were to consider that it was (in her words) her

little shy and closeted Arisa-chan

who wrote it all.

"I would for you." She quips, and I ignore the truthfulness in her words.

"Also, his name is Noah. Not Mister Cute Writerpants, or whatever you said."

"I called him handsome. You're the one who called him cute."

"Whatever." I throw a balled up napkin at her. "His name is Noah. And the semester is done, so he's out of my life for good."

"So I get you all to myself this summer? Promise?"

"I promise." I roll my eyes at her, but my heart's not in it. We have a trip planned in a few weeks where she's going to visit my home ("I've never been to Texas before!" She squealed.) and meet my brother, who's my only family here in the States. And then from Texas we're planning on going on a two-week road trip, until I start my new job in August.

All that to say, I'm absolutely stoked to spend so much time with her. We haven't been hanging out much over the past few weeks, after all, and Jenna's energy never fails to put me in a good mood.

Her energy has always been contagious, and I think that's why I let myself get caught up in her plans to go out. The next day, I hardly second guess my choices as I put on a short tight dress (I can't remember the last time I actually wore this--probably my freshman year, when I actually let myself let loose once in a while?) and get ready. It feels foreign to cake my face with makeup, curl my hair, and then stuff my feet into heels.

I've always thought of myself as your typical Japanese girl. Boring black hair, poop-brown eyes, light skin that for some reason tans readily even when there's not that much sun out.

Nothing special, really. But for some reason when I catch myself in the mirror, I need to do a double-take.

Maybe spending so many hours hunched over my code editors and studying for exams had somehow magically made me prettier, because I look great. I think my low appetite has kept me slim and my youth has kept me shapely, because this dress from the back of my closet is giving me curves in all the right ways. Even my hair is sitting right, the pieces at the front laying just how it should to make my round face look slimmer.

So by the time I'm done and joining Jenna at the door, I'm feeling pretty good.

"Hey, pretty girl." She winks at me. "Ready?"

I always thought that Jenna looked like a fairy, and today she's matching that image more than ever. Whereas I gravitate towards black to match my dark features, she's all light. She gets her shoulder length hair bleached regularly and has delicate little features that make her look more pleased (or displeased) than she actually is. Today, she's wearing a peachy dress that sticks to her body as much as mine does, and it looks good.

"Let's just go." I say, though my stomach is fluttering in anticipation as we walk through the parking garage.

It's an unspoken rule that I'm the one to drive us when we go out, but when I pull out my keys she stops me.

"I'm driving."

My keys dangle in my hand. "Since when?"

"Since today. And since you finished your hellish degree. You're going to have fun tonight, even if it means I need to take it easy."

"But I have the most fun when you get out of control," I pout.

"Shut it. In you go!"

Jenna practically pushes me into the passenger seat and then climbs in. I'm content enough not to drive, though I'm kind of nervous about what she has in mind for me if she's insisting I don't drive.

That fades away as we set off, though, my mind occupied by other things. We talk about graduation, our upcoming road trip, what my brother is like--and she even vents some more about how Brandon is a pussy that he couldn't even break up in person like a real man, but no he has to do it over text like the BITCH that he is, and Riri why didn't you tell me not to date him?

When I point out that I did tell her not to date him, she rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but you should've slapped some sense into me and told me to stay away."

I stifle my smile. Despite all my love for her, Jenna is probably one of the most stubborn and self-assured people I've ever met. I can't imagine any way I could have made her come to her senses.

I wouldn't have it any other way, though. Jenna was the first person I met at school, and she was the only person who stayed by my side when I started getting really busy with my classes. Even though we're such opposites in many ways, I like to think that I ground her a little bit, and she pulls me out of my shell.

It looks like today is mostly about the latter, though.

I told her she could choose anywhere for where we're going tonight, and I'm glad to see that she chose Ash & Ember. I haven't been yet, but I've heard that it's a cross between a club and a bar. It's perfect for the two of us: a club so Jenna can go dance her ass off, and a bar for me to... watch her do it, I suppose.

There's hardly a line, and the bouncer barely looks at us as he waves us in. The interior is relatively nice, with the bar side near the exterior and the club side way inside. It's bigger than I thought it would be, but it's almost packed inside with a real buzz.

Jenna pulls me by the hand all the way to the club side and orders a couple drinks for us.

"Drink it down, yum!" She yells into my ear. It's too loud and dark for me to even think about protesting, so I do as she commands.

It's really strong, and the fruity flavor hardly masks the burn of alcohol in my lungs. I make a face and shake my head, but Jenna raises her eyebrows at me and I obediently take another big gulp.

In all honesty, even though I usually hate everything about going out like this, there's something about today that I actually do want to let loose. I haven't eaten properly today, so it's not long before I start feeling properly buzzed. My cheeks get hot, my head starts to feel funny, and everything feels twice as funny as it usually does.

When Jenna pulls me into the throng of people dancing I laugh as we weave between people.

The music is electric, the bass is bumping, and I have alcohol flowing through my bloodstream--and maybe most important of all, I have Jenna here to give me the confidence to have fun. We dance together on the crowded floor, the stale sweaty air surrounding us and adding to the heady buzz I have. When some guy grabs my waist and starts to grind up against me I freeze for a second, but Jenna immediately elbows him aside and spins me away.

The alcohol is what has me laughing it off as she does so, the violation immediately forgotten.

No one bothers us after that--or maybe Jenna catches them all before they get close enough to do anything--and we dance until I start to feel thirsty. I've been sweating, sandwiched between the people behind me, and it's hot here too.

"I want another drink." I yell in her ear. Her eyes are bright from the energy on the floor, but she immediately latches onto me and we stumble through the crowd to get back to the bar. It's somehow gotten even more packed, and it takes a moment until we get to order our drinks at the counter. I let Jenna order our drinks for us (I wouldn't know what to get, anyways) and it's not long until we have our icy drinks in hand.

We clink them and then drink, leaning against the wall by the counter.

"Whew! This one's even stronger!" I yell to her.

She gives me a smug look, her eyes flitting down to the glass like she's telling me to drink more. I comply, glad that it's equally as fruity as the first round. It goes down easier this time, too, like my body is ready to actually get drunk.

By the time we make it back to the dance floor for another session of dancing, I'm definitely getting there. I'm such a lightweight that normally even half a beer makes me tipsy--and I have no idea what she ordered, but there's definitely more alcohol in one of these than I've had in the past year.

I'm drunk enough that I don't mind, though, stumbling after her.

I close my eyes and follow the rhythm of the music, my movements growing sloppier but somehow more natural, like how my body just wants to dance. And maybe Jenna's a bit drunk, too, because when someone grabs onto her waist she's the one to start grinding on them.

A hand settles on my hip, then, and despite my drunkenness I jerk away from them, stumbling backwards up against some guy that doesn't give any indication that he noticed.

I cast a look towards Jenna, whose movements have started to grow heavier with the fellow she's dancing with. I practically have to yank on her arm to get her to notice me.

"I'm going to go sit at the bar!"

She gives me a nod, her eyes on where I'm pointing. But when the guy behind her moves his hand from her waist to right underneath her breast she's back to the task at hand, leaving me the freedom to weave through the crowd once more.

The drinks have done their job, and I'm more than a little unsteady as I walk away from the loud club section and towards the bar at the front. The air is cooler over here and it feels good on my warm cheeks and sweat-stained skin. It's a lot quieter too, comparatively, at least, and when I ask the bartender for a Sprite my voice feels unnaturally loud in my own ears.

I let out a sigh of relief when I sit down with my drink, glad for the pressure to be taken off the balls of my feet. The soda is just what I needed. Even if I'm still drunk enough that the room spins every time I blink.

I take a long sip, let it bubble in my mouth until it warms, and then swallow down the sugar water. It doesn't make me feel any less drunk, but somehow it makes me feel a little bit more like I'm still here on earth, rather than on some planet where the laws of gravity are backwards.

"Arisa?"

I look up, blinking at the person who just called my name.

"Oh! Noah, I--" I nearly fall over as I stand up to greet him. Damn gravity.

"Woah," he says, catching me by the elbow. "Been drinking?"

"Just a soda." I sing, lifting my Sprite at him.

He cracks a smile. "Yeah, sure."

"What are you doing here?" I say. I think I'm still talking a bit too loudly. My ears are still in club mode.

"Out with some friends." He points towards a group of guys sitting at a table. They look kind of rowdy.

I squint at them. "Why're you over here then?"

"Just saying hi." He says, seeming not to take offense at what escaped my filter. "One of them thinks you're cute. I said you're one of my former students and that you're not his type. Saved you."

I squint at them again, trying to pick out which one it could be. "I don't know, what if he is my type? Which one?"

Noah gives a little fake cough. "I'll rephrase. He's kind of a douche."

"Ah." I give another wistful glance at the boys. None of them really catch my eye. In some respects, they all have similar energy to Noah--button ups and jeans, one of the guys even has on chunky jewelry that makes drunk-Arisa snort aloud. But I don't find any of them cute, at least not in the way that Noah is, with his dark curls and sharp features and two-day stubble.

I don't know how someone can always have two-day stubble. That implies that they're shaving and then waiting two days. But you can't have that every day, because the days don't stack. They just reset every time you shave. But every time I see Noah it's like--

"Um." He says, clearing his throat. "Well, I hate to disturb you."

"Do you want to sit with me?" I blurt out. It's the drunkenness that makes me so verbose, and it's also the drunkenness that gives into impulsiveness. And before I can stop my horrific rampage, I go on. "Make your friend jealous."

He laughs then and starts to sit down. "Only because I'm scared of who else might approach you when you're in this state."

"I don't know what you mean." I sit down in my own seat, sipping some more on my soda. I cast a look towards the dance floor, not because I think Jenna will be showing up anytime soon, but because I hope she's having fun without me.

"Were you over there dancing?"

I nod, the movement making my head spin anew. I keep an eye closed as I talk to him. "My friend convinced me to come out. I think I hit my limit on dancing already, but she's out there. Somewhere. Having fun, I'm sure."

"Nothing wrong with going out after finishing up the semester, right?" He has a twinkle in his eye. My head is feeling faint enough that I can't really make sense of what that really means, but I disapprove of it.

"Why are you out?" I look again towards his friends, who are talking and laughing loudly about something. "Shouldn't you be home grading our final projects or something?"

"I got lucky this time 'round and most of the class turned theirs in early. In fact, you and Evan are the only ones who waited until the last minute to send your projects."

"Ugh, Evan's a bitch." I clap a hand to my mouth. "I'm sorry, I mean... He just..."

Noah can't hide the amusement on his face as I flounder for something to say. "I'll just pretend you didn't say anything."

"Sorry," I moan, putting my hand on my forehead, which is warm and a little damp. "I don't drink. I really don't. But Jenna told me I was going to have a good time tonight and I think she was pretty serious about it."

"Alcohol does do wonders." He says lightly. "Speaking of drinks, let me go grab mine."

I absentmindedly nod (slowly this time, and it doesn't set off the spinning) and watch as he strides over to his friends and picks up his glass. A couple of them glance at me, and I don't try to hide that I'm openly staring back. I always win, though, and they're turning back to their conversation.

Noah returns, setting down his glass of what looks suspiciously like Coke. It's got condensation running down its sides, and all I can think about is how good it would feel to put it on my cheeks.