Chapter Thirty-Six
Sierra
I never knew I could feel so rested and refreshed after a long flight. I suppose that’s why people fly first class. The turndown service transformed my seat into an actual bed, and I napped—but not too much because I didn’t want to stay up and be too tired to enjoy my day in Tokyo.
But as I press myself against the floor-to-ceiling window of the two-bedroom suite and look down at the glowing vista of nighttime Tokyo, I’m too excited to sleep.
Griffin says something to the uniformed front desk clerk who escorted us to our suite. She says something back, bows and leaves.
“Want something to eat?” he says.
“No thanks. Look at this city! It’s gorgeous.” I rest my forehead against the cool glass.
“What’s so wonderful about it? It’s just a city.”
“Noooo!” I give him a horrified look. “It isn’t like some other city. Look at all those people. The energy. Even air feels different in Tokyo!” The vitality of this city can’t be beat. It isn’t just the modern sleekness, it’s the history. It’s impossible to forget how old the city is when you pass by old-style buildings with chrysanthemum emblems that must’ve been standing there for ages. In this suite alone, there are well-polished antique cabinets and tables that must’ve survived centuries of history since the era of the samurais.
Griffin stands next to me and places his forehead against the glass too. “I don’t feel anything different.”
“Don’t even try to make it sound unexciting. You’re failing.”
He doesn’t respond, but continues to look down at the view. The reflection of his face shows a small frown, like he’s really unhappy about something. Is he not enjoying the trip?
Maybe he’s just tired. I don’t know if he got any sleep during the flight. I didn’t want to be weird and check up on him.
On impulse, I turn and place a kiss on his cheek. He goes still, then looks at me, the entire force of his presence focused on me. My heart starts racing, and my mouth grows weirdly dry.
Our eyes meet and his frown deepens. Something that looks like an internal debate crosses his stunning features, but I can’t imagine what he could be debating, especially when his eyes are burning and I’d like to kiss him, this time on his mouth.
I inhale his mesmerizing scent and start to lean forward—
He takes an abrupt half step back and points to a door to his left. “You can take that room. Good night.” He starts walking away.
“Good night,” I say automatically to his retreating back, befuddled.
I sniff my shirt, just in case. It smells okay.
As I walk slowly to the room filled with antiques from some ancient period in Japan, I’m left with the question—what happened?