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Summary
“Didn’t need to pretend you couldn't read to get me close, Omi,” she says with a small laugh when Kiyoomi lets her go. “Could’ve just told me you wanted a kiss—”
“I’m leaving,” Kiyoomi says, hand still fisted in Atsumu’s hair, voice flat.
Atsumu snakes an arm around her waist and tugs her closer, dropping the book onto her desk. “No, you’re not.” She leans in, mouths close enough to almost touch. “You wouldn’t have come here if you weren’t at least expecting something like this.”