Have you ever taught someone a new language only to have it backfire horribly?
The Bargain and the Three-Week Challenge
The most gorgeous boy in our school slid a signed Taylor Swift vinyl across the cafeteria table and asked me to teach him Japanese because he’d lied about living in Tokyo to impress the exchange student.
The most gorgeous boy in our school, Parker, slid a signed Taylor Swift vinyl across the cafeteria table and asked me:
“So, can you teach me Japanese?”
I nearly choked on my apple juice.
Parker was the guy every girl wanted. Soccer captain, perfect smile, the kind of handsome that made teachers forget what they were saying mid-sentence, and he was talking to me. The girl who spent lunch reading.
“Why do you need Japanese?”
“I told Akira I lived in Tokyo for a year.”
He rubbed his neck. “Stupid first day lie. Now she keeps speaking Japanese to me and I just nod like I understand.”
Akira Suzuki, of course, the exchange student who’d basically become our school’s Akiran character. She had Disney princess eyes and a smile that made every guy melt.
“Her cousin’s birthday party is in 3 weeks.”
“She invited me.”
He pushed the vinyl closer. “This is signed from the Aerys tour.”
“It’s yours if you help me.”
His brown eyes actually looked panicked.
“She’s not like other girls.”
“She cares about real things.”
“I can’t mess this up.”
I held the vinyl up to the light to examine it. Pen pressure check. Letter spacing check. It really was an authentic signature.
“You got yourself a deal,” I exclaimed.
First lesson. Parker showed up with coffee and color-coded notebooks. Adorable.
“Okay, basics first,” I said.
“Konichiwa Jenki Desuka.”
“No,” he leaned forward. “Teach me how to flirt in Japanese.”
“How to not sound like a tourist.”
“I want to talk to her about things she cares about.”
That was sweet. I’d expected him to want cheesy pickup lines.
“Let’s start with pronunciation.”
“Say Akira.”
“Akira.”
“No, you need to soften the R like this.”
“Akira.”
He tried again. Failed.
I sighed. “Here.”
I took his hand and placed it on my throat, ignoring how my pulse jumped. “Feel how gentle it is, Akira.”
His fingers spread against my neck.
“Akira,” he whispered, and suddenly the room felt too small.
“Better,” I stepped back.
“Practice that.”
Something in my chest fluttered.
“You’re a really patient teacher,” he said on Wednesday after finally nailing a difficult phrase.
“You’re a good student.”
“Really?” he grinned, and I realized I’d never seen him truly smile before. “Not the popular guy smile. A real one.”
By week two, we’d moved past basics. I taught him haiku in his car after practice. He’d repeat lines about cherry blossoms while I tried not to notice how the sunset made his eyes look like honey.
“What does this mean?”
He showed me a line he’d found. “When I think of you, I forget both time and place.”
My throat went dry. “It means love makes you lose track of everything else.”
“Huh?”
He stared at the words. “That’s beautiful.”
Thursday, we practiced traditional dance moves. I wasn’t sure why, but he insisted that it would come in handy one day. Anything for a Taylor Swift signed vinyl, I guess.
“I’m terrible at this.”
He laughed as he stepped on my foot again.
“You’re not.”
I adjusted his hand position. “Just follow my lead.”
His mom walked by his room and smiled at us.
“Sorry about her,” he said. “She thinks we’re never mind.”
“What? Nothing.”
But his ears turned red.
The final week, something shifted. He’d text me Japanese puns late at night. Bring me mochi because I mentioned loving it once. Stay after our sessions just to talk in English.
“You know what’s weird?” He said Tuesday night, lying on his bedroom floor while we studied. “I started this to impress Akira, but now I just really love the language.”
“Yeah, yeah, like this.” He sat up.
“How do you say I lose track of time with you to shim?”
He repeated it, looking right at me. The air went thick.
“That’s um that’s good.”
“Akira will like that.”
“Right.”
Then came our last session. He was fluent enough to hold conversations, quote poetry, even make jokes. He’d learned an entire language in 3 weeks.
“Let’s do one final practice,” he said. “Full romantic confession.”
My stomach hurt. “Okay.”
He took my hands. “I tried to memorize the when I’m with you, everything has meaning.”
“You’re like a song that was always in my heart.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop wishing those words were for me.
“Perfect,” I whispered. “You’re going to sweep her off her feet.”
Something crossed his face. “You think Akira will feel it too?”
“How could she not?”
