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“Oh, hell no.” Your roommate cackled as she stood beside you, looking around your desk.
You turned to her, “Should I be worried?”
“Well…” she pursed her lips, “he is a bit of a menace and popular at that.”
You snickered, “Ooh, scary.”
“Just…” she trailed off, “be careful.”
You chuckled and continued writing your notes, “It’s not like I’m gonna hang out with him. It’s just… peer tutoring.”
She walked over to her side of the room, “Whatever you say, babe. You’re a big girl.”
You watched her from the side before speaking, “So, you’re friends with him?”
She hummed, sitting on her bed, “Same circle but we’re not close,” she gasped, “You know, this might actually be a good thing for you!”
You gave her a questioning look, “Elaborate.”
“It’s your senior year. Live a little! I’m sure he could help you with that.” She grins, her eyebrows dancing.
You huffed, rolling your eyes, you continued writing, “I am living! And like I’ve said, just tutoring.” you reiterated.
That was the plan.
So why on earth—so early in the morning, in an empty study lounge—is your back pressed against the door by Nagumo with his tongue down your throat?
You place your hands on his chest as you try to push him away but he’s so much taller and stronger than you. You feel him smile against your lips. This insolent prick.
He leans down to your level with his hands cupping your cheeks. He’s so careful not to strain your neck. His gentleness makes you give in, so you let yourself melt into him. His kisses were soft and slow. Sweet—chocolate? Oh, those coated biscuit sticks.
He always had those on him. You want some?
No, thank you.
Why not?
Not that you didn’t like it. But for some odd reason, you were hellbent on not having that scent on you—his scent, to be exact.
You have a keen sense of smell and upon meeting Nagumo, it blurred the line between it being a blessing or a curse to you. He always smelled like chocolate: when he walks in and sits across from you. When he opens his bag. When he talks to you—
And also that time when you spaced out and watched him eat the thing slowly. The way it lingered on his lips before he took a bite, the way he licked his lips. But he then smirked and you were flustered that he caught you shamelessly staring.
Now you can taste it. So much for not trying to smell like him.
He gives you a moment to catch your breath. Your eyes flutter as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. His hands run down from your shoulders to your wrists, taking the straps of your backpack along, and drops it to the floor. And when he intertwines his hands with yours, your brain nearly shuts down.
“We shouldn’t do this.” you pant.
He chuckles breathily against your skin, “You’re right, we shouldn’t.” he murmurs. But he doesn’t stop—biting off the button of your blouse, he takes it from his mouth and puts it in the back pocket of your jeans. He kisses further down your collarbone, leaving moist prints, sighing against your skin.
“I- Ah- I’m serious.” you stammer.
He grins, “Mhm, I bet you are.” he mumbles, before claiming your lips again. He then takes your hands and places them on his shoulders.
He deepens the kiss, pressing his body against yours. You squirm as his tattooed hands travel your back.
You ache for his touch for a split second when you feel his hand leave you.
Click.
He locks the door behind you. After realizing what he’s up to, you pull away, “Yoichi!” warning him quietly.
“I didn’t know a kiss could unlock first name privileges.” He teases, tucking hair strands behind your ear, he then twirls his fingers with the ends of your hair.
Just a week ago, you were so adamant on how you should address each other strictly by last name, because according to you: “We’re not friends. I’m just here to tutor you.” He inwardly chuckles at the memory and how he’s looking at you right now, enjoying the view—face flushed, hair out of place, blouse half undone, lipstick ruined. And it’s all because of him.
He was intrigued by you from the start, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. You didn’t laugh at his antics, didn’t smile at him once, never answered any questions outside tutoring. But at some point, it did annoy him—how much of a stuck-up you are—so much that he made sure his presence shall be known for the next following days.
You kept seeing him with his smug grin and his fuckboy outfits, it made you cringe—in the halls, near your dorms, in the cafes you go regularly to, he was everywhere.
It really didn’t bother you that much, not until he started talking to you outside of tutoring. He didn’t care if you were alone or you were with your friends. He would come and say hi or say something out-of-pocket so casually that he’d start conversing with your friends too, to which they teased you endlessly about it.
But he’s so hot! Are you blind?!
I’ll take him if you don’t want him.
Did you not see the way he was looking at you?
God, you are dense.
And then his friends started approaching you too.
Have you seen Yoichi around?
Hey, you should come to the party tonight. It’d be fun.
Oh, you can’t? That’s too bad.
You see, Nagumo wouldn’t shut up about you.
You have become so annoyingly aware of his existence that the one time he didn’t show up for tutoring, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t focus in class. You were subconsciously searching for him in crowds. You passed by places you’ve seen him frequently. You even passed by his frat house despite it not being your route. You even went the extra mile and asked his friends pretending you bumped into them. Your routine was in shambles that day.
Just when you’d finally talked yourself out of it and had given up—you saw him off-campus, stepping out of a car, with a girl in the driver seat. She was so, so pretty with her turquoise hair and looked so cool smoking a cigarette. She honked at him as he watched her drive off. He then turned around with hands in his pockets, beaming as soon as he locked eyes with you.
Insecurity started creeping in, you panicked and ran off. When you finally reached the dorms, you were relieved that your roommate wasn’t there. You wouldn’t know what to say if she asked why you’re so out of breath like you were fighting for your life. It felt so unlike you, like you were in a state of malfunction. It maddened you to a degree that when you met you for tutoring this morning, he felt it radiating from you.
He was seated across from you, stealing glances your way as you occupied yourself with a book.
“Rough night?” he asked in which you didn’t answer, you didn’t even move a muscle.
To make things less awkward for you, he ripped a piece of paper from his notes and started writing: Are you mad? He gently slid it across the table.
You didn’t know what has gotten into you but you had an urge to write back: Why would I be mad?
Pleased that you wrote back: Idk, that’s why I’m asking.
I’m not.
He held back a chuckle. You’re not very good at lying.
You glared at him after reading his response. How can you tell? You’re probably good at it.
He snickered a little too loud. Curious about me?
You scoffed quietly and wrote: Definitely not.
He snorted from holding back his laugh—I heard you were looking for me yesterday.
You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. I wasn’t.
He stared at you for a moment too long, amused. He wrote: So my friends were lying?
I didn’t say that. You put down the pen a little too hard.
Liar, liar.
You scoffed quietly, pointing at his work sheets.
But he was persistent—Were you jealous?
You pretended you didn’t see the note. He annoyingly tapped on it, making you roll your eyes—I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t care. You wrote with force, visibly getting angry.
He covered his mouth, uncontrollably laughing in silence. He wrote: Lying again LOL
You ignored him again but he didn’t back down—You think she’s pretty?
Without thinking you snapped at him, “No!” Your voice vibrated through the room.
You were both surprised, “I mean yes! I mean—”
A satisfied grin flashed across his face as he witnessed such a reaction from you.
Embarrassed, you rose, stuffing your bag with your belongings.
“It’s not what you think,” he explained, still smiling, leaning forward from his seat.
“I don’t care. I didn’t ask.” You zipped your bag and stomped towards the door.
Just as you were about to reach the exit, he grabbed your arm. You snatched it away, leaving you with the ghost of his touch.
“Does your girlfriend know you like chasing random girls?” You berated him as you fully faced him.
“You’re not a random girl.” His voice low as he moved closer, towering over you.
You stepped back but he was quick to block the doorknob with his hand.
“She’s my sister,” he paused to think, “Adoptive sister, actually. If ever you’re wondering why we look nothing alike.” he says with a faint grin.
Your chin dipped down as you leaned against the door. Embarrassed by the stunt you pulled, you couldn’t look at him.
“It’s okay.” he cooed. So cute, he thought.
You stood unnaturally still after the realization that he was standing so close to you. You couldn’t even form a witty remark, the proximity was overwhelming. You could feel his breath faintly fanning over you making your face heat up. You were speechless.
Despite your annoyingly unsmiling demeanor, he admired your intelligence and the way you carried yourself. Although he felt like you were light years away from being out of his league, he wanted to try for fun.
But something about the slight flush of your skin, the smell of your shampoo, the sound of your breathing, your chest heaving, the shape of your lips, and how you were standing directly in front of him, so close he could touch you. He wanted more than just try and more than just fun.
You looked so pretty, so delicate and— “God, you’re so beautiful.” he blurted out.
Your eyes widened by his confession. You didn’t dare to look at him. What the hell is he on?
He swallowed, “Can I kiss you?” he asked.
You unintentionally wetted your lips.
“I’ll stop if you say so.” he mumbled.
But he knew full well he wouldn’t be able to stop once you let him.
You finally looked at him—and holy shit—he’s more handsome than you remember. He looked like he could ruin your life and you’d happily let him. Your breath hitched as his face moved closer, dark brown eyes looking at you expectantly.
He uttered your name and it felt like your heart was going to burst by the sweetness of his tone, “Anytime now.” he whispered lips hovering yours.
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“Hm?” He gives you a peck on the cheek, still playing with your hair.
What?
“Right! First names- I-” you stammer, “I was just- uh- I was…testing it out?” You grimace, feeling stupid by your answer.
He tilts his head to the side with a satisfied grin. He looks down to reach for your hands, placing wet gentle kisses on your fingers. You watch him, mouth slightly open. His eyes never leave you.
He lets go of you as he removes his jacket, wrapping you in it. “Sorry for…” he trails off, pointing at his chest to mirror yours, he smirks.
He then hears you laugh for the first time. And oh boy, he was in awe by how it sounded and the way your eyes crinkled, like he was basked under the sun. He needs to see it, he’s dying to hear it again. And he knows it, he knows damn well he’s finished.
You lock eyes with him in silence for a moment too long. He suddenly feels shy around you. You clear your throat making him avert his gaze. He picks up your bag.
You watch him intertwine his hand with yours, voice laced with mischief, whispering, “You wanna test it out someplace else?”