The Hanahaki Club: Episode 21
Episode 21: Your Type
So far…
Despite having a crush on Kai’s girlfriend, Cherie, Taran has agreed to a double date with one of Cherie’s friends.
Episode 21: Your Type
Taran
Taran would definitely kiss Bea if he met her a party. She was very pretty, rocking a pixie-cut that only someone with her fine elfin features, dark-lashed eyes and high cheekbones could pull off. Her black, skinny jeans, band t-shirt and black bomber jacket were complemented by the pink highlights of her eyeliner, lip gloss, nails and high tops. More importantly, she was smart, easy-going and had a dry sense of humour that was able to keep up with Kai’s teasing and Cherie’s whip-smart commentary. She was doing a drama and dance course at a different college, had a pet snake and worked part time at a care home. Whilst telling a story about misplaced dentures, she did impressions of the staff and residents that had Kai wheezing into the crook of his elbow and Cherie snorting lemonade from her nose. Taran would probably have laughed himself into next week too, if he hadn’t been busy fighting an aggressive flash of jealousy over Kai handing Cherie his napkin and then casually slinging his arm around her shoulder as if it belonged there. The way Cherie settled under his arm, pressing snugly against his side, like it was the most natural thing in the world, nearly made Taran vomit up his burger.
“Ugh. You two are so happy it’s gross,” Bea had said, throwing a cold chip at Cherie. “I did not sign up for a front row seat to your PDA.”
Cherie grinned and wriggled her eyebrows. “You could have your own PDA, you know,” she said, throwing Taran a challenging look.
Bea scooted along the seat, closer to Taran, but only so she could more easily kick Cherie under the table.
“Ow!”
“Just keep it PG, brat.”
Bea leaned an elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand as she half turned to Taran with a wry smile and a roll of her dark brown eyes.
Yep. If Bea flirted with him at a party, Taran would definitely kiss her on that snarky, rose-soft mouth. Probably text her back and forth for a couple of weeks. Perhaps meet up for a date, gently cup the alabaster of her cheekbones with his fingers and kiss her a second or third time, before she figured out his interest was only skin-deep and they swiftly, mutually drifted apart. She would find someone a few weeks later who would ask her to be their girlfriend, and Taran would go back to pining over his unattainable, unavailable best friend.
But this wasn’t a party: there was no alcohol, no music, no midnight corner to get cosy and close and warm enough to pretend that physical attraction alone might somehow smother the efflorescence of the heart-deep, soul-rooted love that was stuffing-up his chest and souring his every breath with envy and rejection. This was a forced double date, squeezed between his shift at the salon and the coursework he needed to do before Monday; in a crowded diner, where every surface was tacky with the memory of spilled drinks and the grease-ghosts of burgers, garlic bread and chips; where a family of four was bickering in the booth across the aisle, a party of twelve-year-olds were rioting two tables down, and retro music was jangling through a lone, weary speaker, located right above their heads. Here, more than anywhere, Taran was painfully aware of the raw, unrequited feelings that were tearing up his lungs. Even with a girl sitting next to him who was exactly his type, all he could think about was the girl sitting opposite, cradled comfortably under the arm of his best friend. The only person he wanted to kiss was the one he’d known since his first day at pre-school; the girl who knew all sides of him: the best bits, and the ugly bits, and the secretly nerdy bits that he didn’t dare share with anyone else—the girl who knew him well enough to set him up with someone who was perfect for him in every possible way, except that she wasn’t her—she wasn’t the girl he was already in love with.
He couldn’t do this again. This was making everything worse—the rejection, the despair, the guilt, the hanahaki…
Whilst the others were checking out the dessert menu, Taran excused himself from the table and fled to the bathroom. He could feel petals fluttering loose in his lower respiratory tract, but no matter how hard he coughed, they wouldn’t shift yet. Shit. He needed an excuse to go home. Curling one hand against his chest, where the blooms tickled under his ribs, he wished for the hundredth time that he could reach through the bone and muscle and tear the plant matter out in one vicious go—feel the tendrils and the roots ripping out in one, long thread. It was like an itch he couldn’t satisfy—couldn’t scratch, couldn’t even get his hands on—and it was going to drive him crazy.
When he got back to the table, the others had decided against dessert, and Bea had realised she was at risk of being late for her shift. She said her goodbyes, giving each of them a hug and then dashed out of the diner to catch her bus. Kai and Cherie insisted splitting the bill between the two of them, as their treat, and Taran didn’t have the energy to fight them on it.
“So, what do you think?” Cherie asked, as they shucked on their coats and headed out onto the street. “I did good, right? Bea’s just your type, isn’t she?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know—she’s funny, and stylish, and spunky!”
“Spunky?”
“Yeah!” Cherie nudged him with her elbow. “You know what I mean! So what do you think? She’s great, right?”
Taran shrugged. “She seems nice.”
“Nice?” Cherie wrinkled her nose. “Geeze! Nice isn’t good.”
“What’s wrong with nice?” Kai asked.
“From Taran?” Cherie scoffed, “He might as well call her boring.” She frowned and turned to Taran with a disapproving pout. “I was sure you’d like her.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like her,” Taran replied.
“Do you want her number then?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Cherie clicked her tongue and Kai slid his hand into hers. “They’ve only just met, give him a chance to think about it. Besides,”—Kai gave Taran a sly smile—“Bea might think Taran is just ‘nice’ too.”
Cherie didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. “If Bea asks for your number can I at least give it to her?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Wow. Such enthusiasm.” Cherie nudged Taran again, harder this time. “I am going to find you a girlfriend.”
“What if I don’t want a girlfriend?”
“You will one day,” Cherie said, leaning her head on Kai’s shoulder and grinning up at him. “Having a girlfriend is pretty great, right?”
“I think that depends on the girl,” Kai replied as he smiled fondly down at her.
Taran glanced away and bit his lip as his feelings scratched at the vulnerable tissue inside his chest cavity. Yes it fricking does, his heart screamed. And I didn’t get to her first.
Out loud he said: “You guys are gross and I’ve got coursework to do, so I’m going to get the bus here.”
“You don’t want to grab an ice-cream with us?” Cherie asked.
“No. If I stick around with you any longer, you’re gonna make me hurl.”
“Wow. Rude.”
“You deserve it. Now, get lost—go and have a disgustingly romantic afternoon or something.”
Kai grinned. “Oh, we absolutely will!”
Taran watched them both walk away together, hand in hand, and then sat down to wait for his bus. He took out his phone and pulled out the piece of scrap paper he had tucked away yesterday. He absolutely could not do this double date shit again. He needed a way to get Cherie off his back about getting a girlfriend, but he was too muddled with an extreme range of emotions to figure it out for him self. Having to constantly repress his real thoughts and feelings, having to pretend to not feel what he did was wearing him out.
As he clocked his bus turning onto the high street, his lungs suddenly spasmed and he lurched forward with a cough as a petal fluttered up his throat and into his hand. Crap. Crap. Crap. This wasn’t getting any better. It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to beat this thing on his own. Perhaps it was time to admit he might need some help after all.
Next time: Episode 22—My Type
Teaser:
Suddenly, a pair of gloved hands landed on her shoulders from behind and the rest of her sentence got lodged in her throat. “Stay still,” Gio said, his voice close and warm, just inches from her right ear. And then there was suddenly something soft and snug smothering her head and ears. “There you go.”
The Hanahaki Club Index
Welcome to the index page of The Hanahaki Club. Please scroll down to find links to each published episode. If you need any help, let me know via the message button at the bottom of the page.
Author’s Notes:
If there’s something strange going on in your love life, who you gonna call?
Wrong answers only.
Also, Top in Fiction has released its first Top 100 fiction authors list, so if you’re looking for some great fiction to read, I highly recommend checking it out.
Next time: Episode 22—My Type
PJ
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Awesome first sentence 👏