I really don't want to explain that Cynthia is my friend. Or was. I can't make eye contact with my father without giving everything away, so I look out the window and tuck some hair behind my ears.

"I'll pick you and Sophia up tomorrow at eleven. It'll be fun." Saying a high school girl is a friend was a mistake, and my father knows it. He speaks with desperate enthusiasm. "Bring your wish list."

My mother's influence over me isn't total. Unless his girlfriends are high school students, I really don't care who he dates. When we're closer, when I'm more comfortable, I'll tell him that.

My mother will let Sophia miss school. To spy. To report back. So I'll make sure she gets that idea into her head.

I don't want to stay longer and risk more conversation about Cynthia, so I stand up. Margot planned to leave for her son's daycare soon, so I'll walk part of the way with her. "See you tomorrow." I don't say goodbye to my father, because "Dad" is too informal, "Father" is absurd, and "Vintage Rob" is bizarre. Once Margot and I are outside, I wave, but my father's already on the phone, walking in the opposite direction, like a man hellbent on a business deal, alcohol, or illicit sex.

Margot and I part ways at a T in the pedestrian-only street. My direction has more shops than hers, and mine ends at a wide avenue full of taxis. Mostly, I walk in a daydream. Touching the boy's hard abdomen... running my finger over his warm skin...

A broken heart is a worthwhile risk, a necessary expense. Because I need more adventures. I really do.

Some tiny stores on this narrow street sell cute clothes and stationary, but they barely register. I need to catch up to my friend Risa in a book we're reading together, or she'll give up on me and finish. Because I'll carve out some reading time tonight, the character's depressed musings pop into my head. She's a quiet girl too, but she's older with a job, and I'm worried she'll never change. I don't want to end up like her. I'm not even sure why Mieko Kawakami wrote about her.

Up ahead, near where the shopping street meets a wide avenue and cars zip by, a guy walks toward me, and he looks and dresses like Joel Susugi.

I gawk at him, like I've spent months locked indoors. He's just as young as Joel, and he's not in a school uniform, so he must have skipped school today too. When he gets closer, I do a double-triple take of his face. He has Joel's brown eyes and thick arched eyebrows. He wears a denim jacket and white T-shirt, just like Joel sometimes does. His shoulders and legs move like Joel too.

It's weird to imitate someone so much, but he does look yummy. It must be his way of picking up girls. When he smiles, his eyes even narrow and bunch his cheeks. So Joel!

He smiles right at me. Of course, I'm undressing him with my eyes. After passing by, he checks me out, like I'm doing to him. "Sorry," I say, too embarrassed not to make it worse. "You look just like Joel Susugi."

"Yeah, okay... except I am Joel Susugi."

Tiny details I pretended were wrong disappear. His smooth, deep voice is very familiar from his songs and movies. "You can't be," I say. My father didn't... did he?

Black hair towers above the man's forehead in a soft thick wave, just like Joel's. When tears drip onto my cheeks, he pretends to dab under my eyes with a tissue. Girls react like this all the time around him. He must be over it, immune even. He might hate it.

"What are you doing in Hiroo?" I say.

He points at a yakitori stand and an old-fashioned looking omurice shop. "Sightseeing, chilling out, looking for food."

Joel Susugi's only one year older than me, but he lives half-way around the world in New York City. "Is your mother here too?" I say.

He laughs. "No one ever asked me that before." He's half-Japanese too, and maybe he thinks about that as he examines my face. "You're funny."

"I'm not funny."

He laughs again, scrunching his cheeks and raising his thick eyebrows, watching me like my every move will be hilarious.

Why do I argue with Joel Susugi? What's wrong with me? My father on his phone. That's what's wrong with me. Did he just call Joel and tell him where I was going? Is that what's happening here?

Maybe I should be mad, except he is Joel Susugi.

"What's your name?" he says.

"Makiko."

"Wow. I was hoping to meet a girl named Makiko today."

A normal guy would not get away with that line, but surprisingly, it does something to me. If I'm not careful, I'll literally swoon. I reach out with my fingertips and lightly touch his blue denim jacket, the one I've seen in so many photographs.

He takes my fingers, his brown eyes on me, and kisses my hand. I love his lips on my skin. A shiver of delight rolls down my arm. Something splashes like a waterfall into the center of my soul. Waves of pleasure radiate out to my whole body.

That's when I remember the girls on his social media accounts, the ones who make me feel eleven years old. I have nice clothes and a satisfying shape, but they have everything. They attract men even when they are tiny, 2D images on a phone.

"Let's do something tonight," Joel says. "Let's hang out."

"But I'm not in your league," I say.

"Hey, don't put yourself down. You're beautiful." His eyes pop open. "And what are you talking about? I'm not in your league." A big smile pushes his cheeks again.

Mine too. My smile is bigger than my face right now. "Okay," I say, unable to come up with anything better.

He lingers for a second, his mouth near my hand, then lowers it, like my scent is too much of a good thing and it will knock him over. "Come on. Let's get something to eat. I want to talk to you. You seem to be in a league all your own, Makiko."

I could wrap a leg around him. It's nice to think I have the goods, but I understand exactly why Joel Susugi is here. My father, Robert Pirone, honorary member of the Gears and aging playboy, heard me mention his name at dinner last week.

His silly smile... But wow, he gets things done. And in a big way. Girls in Tokyo don't just bump into Joel Susugi on the street. My father brought him here. Margot probably arranged it. Joel Susugi does not just walk around Hiroo on the same day I meet with my father. That just doesn't happen.

"But I'm trouble." I say.

This is my attempt at writing a meet-cute, which is supposed to be "an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them." (I'd like to add that, in this case, it MIGHT lead to a romantic relationship.) Anyway, did this encounter between Makiko and Joel strike you as a meet-cute?

Okay, I'll beg. If you enjoyed this chapter, or even read it to the end because you couldn't believe how bad it was, please show your appreciate/disgust with a star!