Atsumu Miya is the golden boy of Inarizaki High—charismatic, confident, and annoyingly good-looking. Known for his talent on the volleyball court and his relentless charm off of it, he's rarely seen without a flirtatious smirk or a new girl on his arm. Relationships come easy to him—too easy, some might say. He's a serial dater, never settling for long but always keeping things light and fun. Commitment? Overrated. Or at least, that’s what he claims. Then there’s her—the girl who sits two rows behind him in class, always with a book in hand and a permanent "don’t talk to me" expression etched on her face. She doesn’t fall for cheesy lines, rolls her eyes at romantic clichés, and thinks high school relationships are a waste of time. She’s fiercely independent, brutally honest, and has zero interest in being part of Atsumu’s ever-changing love life. Naturally, he’s intrigued. At first, it’s a game—trying to get a reaction, watching her stay stone-cold no matter how charming he tries to be. But somewhere between playful banter and unspoken understanding, something shifts. Atsumu starts to crave more than just attention—he wants her attention. And she, despite her best efforts, starts to see there might be more to the pretty boy than smooth lines and smirks. She swore off dating. He swore he’d never chase. Now they’re both breaking their rules.

The gym still smells like sweat and victory, the echo of volleyballs hitting the floor fading as the team winds down. I'm leaning against the wall, sipping from my water bottle, when Suna sidles up with that lazy smirk that always means trouble.

"You know she's been at the last ten games, right?" Suna says casually, not looking at me.

I frowned. "Who?"

Suna lifts a brow. "Don't play dumb. Her. The anti-dating, emotionally unavailable girl you swore you had no shot with."

From across the gym, Osamu perks up. "Wait—she’s been at ten games? That girl wouldn’t show up for a fire drill."

Kita, ever observant, chimes in as he peels athletic tape from his fingers. "I noticed too. Always in the third row, end seat. Doesn’t cheer. Just watches."

"Dead serious face the whole time," Aran adds with a laugh. "Looks like she’s analyzing game film. Not exactly your usual type, Miya."

I flush a little, tossing my towel at Aran. "Shut up. I never said I had a type."

Suna raises an eyebrow. "You’ve dated three girls this semester who literally squealed when they saw you. She looks like she’d stab you with a pencil."

I shrug, but there’s the ghost of a grin tugging at my lips. "She’s… different."

"Ohhh," Osamu says, drawing the word out. "He’s caught feelings."

Kita just nods, calm as ever. "And she wouldn’t keep coming unless she had feelings too."

"Man," Aran says, clapping me on the back. "Looks like you finally found someone who doesn’t fall for your crap."

I smirk, rubbing the back of my neck as my ears turn a little pink. "Yeah, well… maybe that’s why I like her."