The basketball court is tucked away at the far end of the school—quiet, secluded, and hidden from prying eyes. David and I dash inside, our bodies colliding in urgency. Our lips meet, fusing in the heat of desire, tongues tangling as we lose ourselves in pleasure. His hands roam my body with practiced ease, and by the time we settle in, he's unhooking my bra, his fingers teasing my skin. Each pinch on my nipple sends waves of electricity through me, pulling me away from reality.
This isn't new. Last semester, we did this almost every night—kissing, smooching, and diving into each other's bodies. Always at the very center of the court, under the guise of staying late to study for exams. The orgasms were always raw, unrestrained, and perfect.
We move toward the center now, our lips tangled, our bodies pressing closer. Every moment apart has been torture, and tonight, we burn away that distance with fevered urgency.
Minutes later, I'm on the floor, legs spread for David—the ever-masculine, bad-boy, infamous team captain. Just the way I like it. His hands fumble with his belt, his arousal evident. Then—
A sound. A low grunt. Footsteps.
Someone's here.
Panic rushes through me. I scramble up, grabbing at my clothes, heart pounding as I prepare to curse the intruder who just ruined my moment. My frustration coils into sharp anger. Six weeks of celibacy, shattered by some idiot.
"I—I'm sorry. I thought I'd have some time alone here."
The voice is soft, hesitant. I squint through the dim lighting. As he steps forward, I see him clearly—young, nerdy, and unexpectedly handsome. His features are delicate yet striking, his innocent demeanor clashing with the distraction he's just caused.
For a moment, I'm caught off guard, almost… intrigued.
David's voice cuts through my daze, laced with irritation. "And who the hell are you?"
The guy barely glances at us. "My name is Kaito," he says simply, then strides past us toward the exit.
I watch him go, a strange sensation twisting in my chest—something unfamiliar, something I can't quite name. It unnerves me.
David's hands slide back to my waist, his voice rough. "You know him?"
"No," I murmur, still staring at the now-empty entrance. "But… there's something odd about him."
David scoffs. "Probably some clueless freshman."
I nod absentmindedly, but the moment is gone. The desire I had for David, for our rough, desperate encounters, vanishes. I pull away, adjusting my clothes.
"No, not anymore," I say, fastening my bra, fixing my dress, and smoothing my hair.
David stiffens. "What? Why? Don't tell me that asshole—"
"It's not about him," I cut in. "I just want to go."
His grip tightens around my wrist. "C'mon, Kira, don't do this."
I yank my arm back, scowling. "Let. Me. Go."
He hesitates, then releases me with a frustrated sigh, adjusting himself. "Fine. I'll just stay here till I calm down." His gaze drops to his visible arousal.
I glance at him but feel nothing—no desire, no longing, only indifference. That same strange feeling from earlier lingers, completely consuming me.
"I'm sorry, baby," I say, planting a kiss on his cheek before walking away.
As I step out of the court, my eyes instinctively search for Kaito. But he's gone. No trace of him anywhere. The disappointment is instant, irrational. I want to ask him something, though I don't even know what.
---
In class, I sit with Petra, telling her about the strange feeling gnawing at me, but she barely listens—too preoccupied with stories about her trip to Turin.
Then, June walks in.
Her presence alone makes my blood simmer, my annoyance sharpening into full-blown rage when she slides into the seat right in front of mine. My lips curl into a smirk.
"June." I drag her name out mockingly.
She turns, her expression unreadable. "Hi, Kira," she says smoothly, waving a perfectly manicured hand—the same hand that probably wrote the essay that beat mine in the last English exam.
I narrow my eyes. "I'm so happy to see you that my stomach can't take it anymore. I feel like throwing up."
A few students around us pause their conversations, listening in.
June doesn't even flinch. "Then go to the washroom."
Laughter ripples through the room.
My fingers clench. I inhale sharply, forcing myself to stay composed, but the irritation is boiling over.
"Aww, that's so nice of you," I say, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you know what? I'll hold it in. I don't want your bullshit ruining my appetite."
June tilts her head, unimpressed. "I'd advise that, Kira. You're already too skinny to afford skipping a meal."
Silence.
Then, the room erupts in laughter.
My breath catches. That… was supposed to be a compliment, wasn't it? So why are they laughing?
Anger flares, wild and uncontrollable. Without thinking, I lunge forward and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her closer. She shrieks, struggling against my grip.
"You should know better than to mess with me, bitch," I growl. "Next time you try it, I'll do more than pull your hair. Got it?"
The laughter dies instantly. Students watch in stunned silence as June trembles, her once-confident expression now laced with fear.
Then
—
"Akira Kurosawa. What are you doing?" The teacher, that I don't know has entered, calls.