"WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU STARTED DATING?"

Moe thrust the news at me one afternoon we'd gone out for bubble tea. She'd given me a call, screaming about how we had to meet up for some "girl's talk", and hours later, here we were.

"Dating?" My brain short-circuited. "I haven't gotten to that chapter yet. I'm at the beginning of Hira's route—"

"I'm not talking about otome games!" Moe seemed ready to rip out her hair. "You and Takumi!"

All at once, it sunk in. I took a prolonged sip of my caramel milk tea.

"Was Saeki busy today or something?"

"Focus!" She snapped her fingers in my eyes for emphasis. "Seeing as you're not denying it, it's true?"

"It is not," I refused immediately, relishing in the creamy taste of caramel and brown sugar. "We're nothing more than rivals."

She frowned, completely done with me. "Rivals? Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

"Like he can't wait for my imminent downfall? Yes, it's very cute."

"No." She slapped the table. "Like, all he wants is to pin you to a desk and do unspeakable things to your body!"

A staff member passed by at that exact moment, and performed a horrified double-take.

"Keep it PG, Moe," I said.

"Fine," she caved, holding her arms up in surrender. "Kiss you. With tongue."

Not the tongue.

"I have a sense for these kinds of things," she said. "He's obsessed with you. You make up every single star and constellation in his entire universe. Any day now he's going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to marry him."

Oh, wow. This was getting out of hand.

"Moe, I have to sincerely ask: do you hear how ridiculous you sound?"

She petulantly frowned. "An overactive imagination can be a lot of fun if you give it a chance. Come on. You seriously don't see how fixated he is on you?"

I thinned my lips. "I can see that this "fixation" is not romantic."

"Well, it is," she insisted. "Only, the guy himself hasn't noticed. Or, if he has, he's a damn good liar."

Once Moe made up her mind, there was no use arguing. She had a retort for everything.

"Everyone in our class is talking about you two." She took another mouthful of her matcha-flavoured boba. "Takumi's never shown interest in anything except academia. He's rejected hundreds of confessions these last ten years. There was even that one rumour, if you can remember, about how the reason why he keeps turning them down is because he doesn't go for girls."

Ah, yes. That dreadful rumour.

It had spread a couple of years back when Takumi had rejected one of the most popular girls at our middle school. She was scornful, simply because she couldn't believe that any attractive guy would ever turn her down. Unless, of course, the guy in question was gay and had absolutely zero interest in the opposite gender.

From there, things sort of spiralled, and students began theorizing that Takumi was in a secretive relationship with the only boy he hung out with on a regular basis—aka, Naoya.

It was a whole mess. The gossip emerged out of spite, though, so naturally, everyone moved on.

"He's definitely into you." A tiny smile curled the corners of Moe's mouth. "Aw, my dear Anri who used to be utterly repulsed by real boys is growing up."

I swatted her hands which tried to pinch my cheeks. "Fictional characters are superior in every way. Always will be."

"But," she prodded, sparkly-eyed.

I sighed. She didn't get it. "Takumi isn't an exception," I answered. "Even if by some miracle he does have feelings for me, nothing that you're thinking will happen."

Moe pouted, dissatisfied. "Why not? I thought you liked him too."

I took a deadpanned sip of my tea in lieu of an answer.

A while back, she used to be enraged at the prospect of Takumi and me together, which was a given considering our history. However, like she said, she noticed a change.

And truthfully, since the night of the storm, something had changed between us. I still teased and taunted him, and he had funny reactions, except it didn't feel as hostile-driven as before.

Wasn't that the whole point, though? Go to extreme lengths, manipulate him into falling for me, then break his heart?

Was I getting cold feet?

"Expecting a text message?"

Before I'd realized it, I'd pulled out my phone and was scrolling through my messages. I shoved it back into my sweater.

"No."

Moe dipped a dubious brow.

Creeper had been suspiciously quiet lately. Usually, he'd text me, begging for updates on this real-life dating game that he'd orchestrated. Except, he hadn't.

Of course, there was a certain speculation I had.

That Takumi was Creeper.

After thorough debate, and many sleepless nights, I'd conclude the possibility lingered at around 88.4%.

Takumi had a reason to hate me—albeit a dumb one.

We attended the same schools since childhood. He'd been secretly keeping tabs on me all these years, unbeknownst to me. One could argue that I had even "ruined" his life.

He could've been lying about not having social media apps, or deleted them once I got to his house. And he definitely despised me for inadvertently putting so much pressure on him, that he wanted to get back at me no matter what.

The possibilities were there, except, a large part of me disbelieved them.

The Takumi I'd gotten to know didn't seem like the type to use dirty tricks. Since that night, all I saw was just how stupidly honest the guy was.

Takumi couldn't be Creeper.

I just wanted an excuse. So that I didn't have to follow through with this anymore. So that this guilt that'd been eating away at me lately would finally go away.

So much for getting my revenge.

KANOME HIGH SCHOOL HAD A HISTORY OF EXEMPLARY PERFORMANCE. The sports teams were playoff finalists every year. The music and science-related clubs brought home countless awards, medals, and trophies. Academically, we scored within the top bracket amongst high schools across the city. Once exam season kicked into gear, most students willingly participated in study groups and extra lessons, or even cram school, and celebrated the honorary achievements that followed suit.

Hence, when midterms rolled around, and when the grades were finally released this morning, the second-year hall was in a frenzy.

On top of currently ranking first in all my classes, my grades were in the triple digits. Yep. 100s across the board.

Our peers had witnessed me squash Takumi in pop quizzes and minor tests, but with our midterm grades posted out loud and proud in the centre hallway—it garnered a lot of attention, including from the neighbouring classes.

I'd spent my whole life fading into the background and intentionally tallying mediocre grades to ensure I was put on nobody's radar. Now, honestly doing my best, and honestly getting the credit for it—it was different, for sure.

"Good morning, Second Place," I greeted Takumi as I strolled into our classroom and plopped into my seat next to his.

"Just wrap a noose around my neck and put me out of my misery," he responded, burying his face into his hands.

"Aren't you the one who wanted me to start taking our exams more seriously?"

He gave a petulant frown. "What's the difference? Whether or not you complete the test in the last three minutes or within the first three, you score 100s every time."

"Then just start scoring 100s yourself. Problem solved."

Technically speaking, he earned high 90s across his exams, which placed him second overall among our classmates. Realistically, he should be proud.

Instead, he glared. "You're unbelievably full of yourself."

Perching my chin on my palm, a smirk peeled back the corners of my lips. "But I thought you liked me this way."

What followed was neither a fiery remark nor a glare. Takumi froze—and I mean, froze. His flustered, wide-eyed look garnered my surprise. My eyebrow dipped involuntarily.

"Takumi?"

"Ren!" A boisterous shout cut me off. Takumi was glomped from behind by a familiar beaming redhead. "Good morning, buddy! Good morning, Ann! Pleasant weather we're having!"

"'Morning, Naoya," I greeted, all the nerves in my body dissolving at the sight of his grin.

Takumi, on the other hand, nudged him off and turned in the other direction. "You're already giving me a headache."

"Was I actually that loud? My bad, bro."

Quietly, Takumi dug into his backpack, piling up and tossing notebooks and textbooks onto his desk. Although I could no longer see his face, his ear was very much in plain sight—and it was flushed a bright red. Was he. . . blushing? My jaw fell. If his ears were that red, I could roughly fathom how dark the rest of his complexion was. But, why? I teased him the usual amount.

. . .Moe was right.

"Er?" Naoya asked, breaking the quiet. Far more perceptive than I gave him credit for, he whipped his head between us. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Takumi answered a split second before I could.

From the back of the classroom, I felt a stare bore a hole through my back. Moe, goofily grinning from her desk. Leave it to her to be rooting this on from the sidelines. I bet she was even texting Saeki a play-by-play to catch him up to speed.

Naoya, who couldn't have appeared any more confused, shrugged it off. He held a firm grip on his bag, tucked firmly under his arm. "By the way, Ren! Any chance I can borrow your history notebook? I'm behind on a couple of lessons and Mr. Fujinaka is gonna give me a lecture for not being prepared for class. He even said he'd be going around the room asking questions. Please? I already know you have all the lessons memorized!"

I fought a sigh. If it was true—if Takumi had caught feelings for me—wasn't this the part where it was supposed to make me, the heroine, all giddy? I guess I should've expected it wouldn't. This all started with ulterior motives. Besides, I'd never fallen in love before so who was I to really understand how exactly I should've been feeling right now.

As Takumi reluctantly reached into his desk and handed Naoya his notebook to borrow, I casually dug my cell from my pocket.

Still nothing from Creeper. Why was he so uncharacteristically quiet? Did he get bored? Had he decided to finally stop blackmailing me?

If so, I wasn't complaining.

"Wh—wha—" Naoya's exclamation transferred me from my thoughts. Several sheets had fallen out of the notebook Naoya had grabbed, scattering across the ground. He swooped down to pick them up, but in doing so, he squeaked, a newfound bundle of nerves. "Um, Ren— these papers—"

His panic was the least of a stoic Takumi's concern.

"You mean, sticky notes? I stick a bunch of them in my notebooks all the time. They help me focus."

"Sticky notes. . . ? These are? I—I must have grabbed the wrong book, then!"

Eventually fed up, Takumi dropped to the floor to pick up the supposed "notes" that had gotten Naoya all shaken up. "Stop yelling. What the heck has gotten into you, Nao—"

His voice caught, and his body shut down. In one fell swoop, he stopped moving; breathing.

From where I was, it didn't take long for me to comprehend why.

What Takumi had gathered into his hands were not sticky notes. They were folded-up sheets of printer paper. And what was typed out and printed onto them was clear as day.

A glance was all I needed.

Test answers.

They were the test answers for our midterms.

"Y-you know what, I-I get it," Naoya whispered in an awkward frenzy. However, considering his naturally loud voice, practically everybody could hear him. "You've been stressed out lately. More than usual. Don't worry, I didn't see anything. Just act natural. Nobody will suspect a thing."

—And there he goes, saying the one thing that will make him stand out more.

As expected, a handful of students nearby, who'd been minding their business and casually chatting amongst themselves, caught wind of the situation.

"What happened? What do you mean, "act natural"?" A nosy girl skipped her way in.

Naoya lurched up to cut her off, wildly waving his hands. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

Despite his valorous intentions, before long, the truth was exposed, and pandemonium ensued.

With the chime of the morning bell, the classroom door slid open. In ambled a bewildered Mr. Fujinaka.

"What is all this commotion? I heard you all from across the hall."

"Mr. Fujinaka!" cried the girl from earlier, pointing accusatorially at a dazed Takumi. "Er— you need to see this!"

A male student ripped the papers out of Takumi's hands and passed them to our homeroom teacher.

Within seconds, Mr. Fujinaka's eyes bulged from their sockets. "These— No, they can't be."

"I—It wasn't Ren!" Naoya tried again. "It was me! I stole them from the faculty room! I'm the dumb one!"

There was no denying his claim. In the midst of the madness, and with nothing to go off of, the ever-calm and sweet Mr. Fujinaka lost his cool.

"All books and bags open on your desks!" he ordered the class. "Now!"

My stomach sunk to my gut. Everyone scrambled to their desks to do as told, however, by a unanimous margin, the blame had already been pinned on Takumi.

What the hell was going on? Takumi stole the test answers and cheated?

There was no way I could believe that. Except, the guy in question wasn't making any effort to deny it.

Why wasn't he denying it?

Did he actually do it?

My mind looped in an abysmal disarray.

None of this was making any sense. . .

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