“This gets worse,” I grumbled, but I stopped complaining when she shoved me in the side.
As we left the dorms where the team was staying, I released a sigh when I saw an Uber waiting on us. As we settled in, the driver nodded at us, then set off.
When her phone pinged, I wasn’t surprised when her focus was pinned on the message she received, and I left her to it, leaning my arm against the rest and staring out into the city as we passed it by.
There was nowhere like it, I thought. A merger of old and new, but done in a respectful way that pleased the eye, even if some of the ads were gaudy as hell.
I didn’t understand any of the signs, of course, but when I pulled up Google Maps on my phone, I managed to trace our destination because there was a park I’d love to visit in the future. It was filled with what I assumed were cherry blossoms, and there were rolling lawns that had clusters of people partaking in Tai Chi on their glorious expanses. Flat-topped trees were spotted here and there, and they reminded me of Bonsai trees but on a massive scale. Maybe they even were—I was no gardener, that was for sure, but I could see how, in summer, they’d be great for shade and having a nap beneath.
The clusters of native bushes and trees around the park hid most of it from sight, but I managed to catch a glimpse of water and I determined that I’d visit Shinjuku Gyo-en again—on my own though. Lori and nature didn’t get on well.
When it seemed certain that we were driving toward Shinjuku, which was the biggest district nearby, I did a quick Google search, and groaned at the sight of it. Shops galore.
A nightmare that was confirmed when we climbed out onto already packed streets and I peered around, staring at gleaming buildings that scraped the skies and a million and one signs in a thousand colors, all advertising something I couldn’t understand. The big names, however, I did, and I wasn’t surprised when Lori dragged me into Gucci.
I felt like a duck out of water here, so I trudged after her. Lori hadn’t needed a scholarship to get into Stanford, she had a credit card with a limit on it that was more than I’d earn in a year, and she wasn’t afraid to spend it.
She was, however, generous too. It was one of the reasons I liked her. Not because she usually bought me shit—I never wanted it, even if it was kind of her—but because she thought of others. She could have been an arrogant snob, but she wasn’t.
Somehow.
When she tried on a dress that, I swear to God, made her look like a walking envelope, I muttered, “I can’t believe you didn’t feed me before you dragged me out here.”
She stopped staring at her ass in the mirror, because she knew she couldn’t ask me if it looked big—it didn’t, nothing did. It couldn’t when your ass was tiny, but Jonas, her prick of an ex, had told her she was fat.
I wasn’t even sure if that was possible, considering how strictly we controlled our intake and how much we exercised.
“Sorry,” she said with a wince, frozen in the mirror as she peered guiltily at me over her shoulder.
I laughed a little at her sheepish expression, then told her, “Carry on trying the stuff you’ve got, but then I demand matcha.” I loved that stuff but had yet to have it since we’d landed, which was a travesty.
Lori bought a couple of dresses that were eye-poppingly expensive, then we wandered out into the manic street. There were so many people that it was easy to feel a little claustrophobic, and with all the funky lights and signs, it was definitely hard on the senses. I wasn’t scared because if we got separated, we could each hail an Uber, but still, I stuck close to her.
Even if I groused, “Are you shitting me?” when she dragged me into this out of the way nook just off the street.
“Haven’t you heard about this place?”
“Heard about what?” I demanded, peering around. “They’re all vending machines.”
“Exactly! Japan is famous for them.”
I squinted at her. “You’re being serious.”
“Deadly.”
“You want me to eat breakfast from a vending machine.”
She grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I left it back in bed.”
“I’m buying,” she retorted, ignoring me and my grouchiness. Hell,