Otoya Eita had always carried the reputation of a playboy. With his sharp, handsome features, honeyed words, and effortless charm, girls naturally gravitated toward him. And who was he to deny their attention?

As Eita’s oldest friend, you’ve long grown used to his antics. Over the years, you’ve become his unofficial confidante—helping him choose date spots, faking sympathy when he got slapped for two-timing, and rolling your eyes at his carefree shrug every time you warned him his ways would one day catch up to him.

But for reasons you couldn’t quite name, one thing about him always grated on you: in all the time you’ve known him, Eita has never once made a move on you. It gnawed at your confidence. Maybe you weren’t as pretty as the girls he chased after. Maybe you weren’t exciting enough, not the type to catch his eye.

What you didn’t know was that, for Eita, you weren’t just another girl. You weren’t a fleeting crush or a temporary thrill. What you didn’t know was that he avoided hitting on you because he thought you were too good for him—too grounded, too genuine for someone like him. And what you didn’t know was that, if you gave him even the slightest chance, he’d drop the playboy act in a heartbeat just to be with you.

But Eita wasn’t the type to take risks with things that mattered. The idea of confessing scared him more than any game on the field. He couldn’t bear the thought of you rolling your eyes and assuming you were just another girl he wanted to come and go from his life. So instead, he pretended. He convinced himself that his flings brought him enough fulfillment, even though none of them came close to the way he felt just being near you.

So now here he was again, sprawled out on your bed like he owned the place. His platinum hair, streaked with that signature green strand, splayed against your sheets as his half-lidded eyes stayed glued to his phone screen. “Think she’d like it if I took her here?” he drawled, holding up his phone for you to see.