Shiina Kisaragi's POV:

"You didn't get to eat lunch, Shiina?" Tsumugi demanded when we exited the building after school.

Kiharu elbowed her in the side and waggled her eyebrows. "She was too busy having another meal if ya' get what I'm saying."

"Hey!"

She barked a laugh. Tsumugi, after piecing together her ambiguous implication, gaped.

"Must be nice being young," Kiharu cooed, readjusting her bag over her shoulder.

My blush intensified. "We're the same age."

"Nah, you're beyond us now. Explored domains we can only dream of. Have some shame. We're on school property."

"We just kissed," I asserted, not appreciating her suggestive undertone.

"This girl is proudly telling us how she swapped saliva. And has the audacity to say 'just.'"

"It's worse than we feared."

I smacked them. They snickered then looped their arms through mine.

Burying my exasperation, I heeded the extra weight in my backpack that was slowing me down. "I'll have to enjoy Kamakiri's food at home. I would take notes but whenever I eat his cooking, it's impossible. One second it's there and the next, it's gone. I gobble it all up before I notice it's finished."

Kiharu nodded. "His skills put professional chefs to shame. Yet he can't be bothered to share his talent with the world. That homebody."

I slumped my shoulders. "How hard is it to win his heart through my cooking? His can wow me without breaking a sweat."

"You're too cute, Shiina," Tsumugi giggled. "Is this really something to be competitive about?"

"I'm sick of 'not bads' and 'you're getting there.' Insincere praise because I'm his girlfriend doesn't count. Until he wholeheartedly grins and says my cooking is delicious, I won't give up!"

"Don't burn yourself out," Kiharu said. "You're already working yourself to the bone with band practice."

"I can't wait for your next concert," Tsumugi agreed. "Did Kamakiri say he'll wear his Infinite Creation t-shirt that we made him? He still has it, right?"

I pinned my gaze to the cloudy sky.

"Not sure?"

They blinked at me.

"I mean, since Kamakiri has a book release he's looking forward to the same day, I told him he doesn't have to come."

"Are you dumb?" Kiharu demanded.

I pulled a face. "Why do I keep being called dumb lately?"

"Because you are," my best friends chorused.

"Did he accept that?" Kiharu pressed.

"We haven't brought it up since we talked about it last month," I replied. "Is it that important? If he isn't interested in music, wouldn't it be torturous if I forced him to attend all of our concerts?"

"Shiina, you need to be greedier about these things. I get you're thinking of him, but you outright telling him not to show up must've hurt his feelings."

Did it? He brushed it aside rather nonchalantly, though.

"How out of touch is he?" Tsumugi asked. "He has to have at least one favourite artist—album."

"Nope." I shrugged. "Mentioning music to him is like talking to a wall. Movies, TV shows, anime, or any forms of entertainment. Even technology, for the most part. All over his head."

The horror that claimed their faces wasn't subtle.

Tsumugi stammered, "Does he do anything for fun?"

"Read. Knit. Clean. Cook—"

"What is he, a grandma?" Kiharu squeezed my forearm. "Caveman? Dinosaur?"

"In this society?" Even Tsumugi couldn't defend him. "Are you sure he's from this generation?"

"Guys," I chastised.

"How was this boy raised?" Kiharu asked. "What kind of upbringing could lead to—to this?"

I primmed my mouth.

"He has a TV and computer, doesn't he?"

"Just a cell," I answered. "It's outdated and he's a horrible texter. The other day, I had to convince him to use emojis. . ."

"Break up."

"Guys," I reprimanded their unified order.

"If he's that detached, what do ya'll talk about when you're alone? Do ya' share a single commonality aside from cooking?"

"Man, oh, man. They're too lovey-dovey all the time to have paid this any attention," Tsumugi remarked.

"We have common interests!" I argued. They were stretching this out of proportion. "Like, academics—"

"He excels at," Kiharu finished. "While you fail miserably."

"Cooking—"

"Aside from cooking!"

I opened my mouth. Then clamped it shut. Steam poured from my ears after overworking my miniature brain.

"See," they said.

"We get along fine," I hissed. "Stop reading into it too much."

Ignoring their worry-stained countenances, I unhooked our arms and sped across the crosswalk. I spun in time for the light to shift to green, then waved them goodbye.

They lifted their arms after much deliberation. As they turned tail and fled in the direction of their houses, my arm swung to my side. I frowned.

What was with the people around me insinuating and insinuating our relationship was doomed? Kamakiri and I connected seamlessly. Fundamentally, we had no issues. Listening to their nagging voices, however, I was beginning to wonder if maybe we did. And I was inadvertently turning a blind eye to them.

I slipped my device from my pocket, and eyeballed his contact information. I skimmed our recent text messages.

PRINCE KAMAKIRI
  '  (',,•ω•,,)♡ '
Who do you use this with?

SHIINA
Kiharu and Tsumugi.
Sometimes Rin-Rin.

PRINCE KAMAKIRI
Screw the last one. You're not allowed to message him it after today.
Anything including a heart, for that matter.

SHIINA
Are you jealous?

PRINCE KAMAKIRI
    (￣ヘ￣)   

    (o'▽'o)

    (」＞＜)」

SHIINA
All right! I get it, so stop sending faces

PRINCE KAMAKIRI
    (⌒▽⌒)☆

SHIINA
Please, imagining you making these faces is too funny lololol

Surely, it could've been an accident. A slip of his thumb. Nevertheless, I couldn't stop laughing after our exchange. My heartbeat wouldn't stop ringing in my ears either.

Aside from Akiya, I was his phone's sole contact. No 'Mom.' No 'Dad.' It was a really outdated device, so I found it strange he hadn't phoned or contacted them at least once. He deleted the contact information of those hoodlum friends he hung out with in middle school, so did that mean he deleted his parents' too?

I wanted to ask him. Would that be insensitive?

"Kamakiri. . ." I sighed.

"Yes?"

I'm hallucinating, my subconscious whispered. Kamakiri lived in the opposite direction. He went home without me because I informed him I'd be going with Kiharu and Tsumugi today.

In spite of the warning signals and factors disproving my hope true, I trained my focus upwards.

The man was seated on the motorcycle directly beside me, behind the traffic light flashing red. His dishevelled dark red hair stuck out alongside his sharp jawline, dark shades, leather jacket and pants. In spite of that, from the headphones hanging around his neck, a familiar fast-paced tune blared—a Mortal Mania song. Lifting his black shades up and over his bangs, his coffee-coloured eyes flickered to mine.

"Er. . . did you say my name?"