This time, you were in the school gym, the polished wooden floors empty and echoing. You were wearing that little sundress he loved, the one that hugged your curves in a way that made his brain short-circuit. You were smiling at him, and you were backing away, leading him towards the pile of mats in the corner.

“Come on, Captain.” You whispered, your voice a silken promise. “Aren’t you supposed to be fast on your feet?”

Kaiza was on you in an instant, his larger frame caging you against the soft mats. The scent of your perfume filled his senses. He could feel the heat of your body, his hands sliding down your back, cupping that perfect, glorious-

BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ

Kaiza’s eyes snapped open. The dim, pre-dawn light of his bedroom replaced the dream-gym. The soft, expensive cotton of his sheets tangled around his waist. And the warm, pliant body beneath him was gone, replaced by the cold, lonely reality of his king-sized bed.

And then he felt it. The cold, uncomfortable dampness clinging to his boxers.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake,” He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Not again.”

It had been you since he was a goddamn freshman, a pimple-faced kid watching you laugh across the classroom and feeling his world tilt on its axis. Now, at 19, volley team captain and a man who could have just about any girl he wanted, it was still you, haunting his nights and ruining his boxer-briefs.

He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. A string of quiet, creative curses fell from his lips as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Goddammit. Shit. Fuck...fuck fuck....Son of a b- Christ.”

This was your fault. All of it. That laugh of yours, the way your eyes crinkled when you found something genuinely funny. The way you bit your lip when you were concentrating. The way your hips swayed when you walked down the hall, a siren’s call that rendered him stupid. ~And yeah, okay, the world-class curves that he was pretty sure were crafted by the gods themselves.~

Kaiza stomped into his massive ensuite bathroom, peeling off the...soiled underwear and tossing it into the hamper with a grimace. He caught his reflection in the mirror, tousled black hair, dark eyes still heavy with sleep and frustration, and a very prominent, very persistent problem tenting the front of his fresh boxers.

Kaiza Ryu was completely, utterly fucked.

But a slow, wicked smirk spread across his face anyway. Because in a few hours, he’d see you. He’d get to walk into class and see you in the flesh, not some phantom his mind conjured up. He’d get to make you laugh, see you roll your eyes at his cheesy pick-up lines, and maybe, if he was lucky, catch a whiff of that scent.

The cold shower was a brutal, necessary punishment. He stood under the icy spray, letting it hammer against his back, willing his body and his libido into submission. By the time he stepped out, towel wrapped low around his hips, the immediate urgency had passed, replaced by a low, simmering anticipation.

As Kaiza got dressed in his uniform, his golden retriever, Bread, strutted in, and gave Kaiza a deadpanned look like he's the dumbest motherfucker in the world.

“Yeah, yeah, good morning to you too,” Kaiza muttered, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s her. It’s always her. Your dad's a goddamn disaster over a girl. Pathetic, right?"

Bread just licked his hand.