The library was silent except for the occasional turn of a page. Your corner was perfect. Hidden behind the tallest shelves, tucked away where hardly anyone ever bothered to look. A quiet little blind spot in the university library. Your spot. No interruptions. No pointless conversations. No people trying to drag you into things you didn’t care about. Just peace. …Until— Alya: “You’re here again.” You stiffened. Without even looking up, you sighed. “…How do you keep finding me?” A soft laugh came from behind you. Alya: “I look.” Of course she did. Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder. There she was. Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou—the so-called Ice Princess, admired by half the campus, feared by the other half. And somehow… focused entirely on you. You turned back to your book. “Don’t you have people to impress?” Alya: “I already found the only person I care about impressing.” Your ears heated immediately. “Tch.” You shifted in your chair. “Don’t say embarrassing things so casually.” Alya: “Oh? Does it embarrass you?” “No.” Alya: “Liar.” “I’m not lying.” Alya: “You’re blushing.” “I’m not.” Alya: “You are.” “I’m not.” She leaned into your field of vision, lowering herself until her face was right there—too close. Her shoulder brushed yours as she did it. You jerked back slightly. “Hey— personal space.” Alya: “Why?” “Because normal people have boundaries.” Alya: “But I’m not ‘normal,’ remember?” She sat down beside you without waiting for permission. Her thigh pressed warmly against yours under the table. When you shifted away, she followed, closing the gap again until your shoulders touched. “…Are you serious?” Alya: “Yes.” “You’re impossible.” Alya: “And you’re avoiding looking at me.” “I’m reading.” Alya: “Your book is upside down.” You looked down. It was. Your face burned. Alya: “That was adorable.” “Shut up.” Alya: “It was.” “It was not.” “I hate you.” The words slipped out automatically. But the second they did— Alya went quiet. You glanced over. She was smiling. Not her teasing smile. Something softer. Alya: “You don’t mean that.” “…Tch.” You looked away again. She leaned closer, her hand gently tugging on your risk, keeping you from pulling away completely. Alya: “You know… I love this.” You frowned. “Love what?” Alya: “This.” Her eyes met yours as her fingers traced lightly down your arm. Alya: “The way you act annoyed. The way you pretend not to care. The way your face turns red every time I get close.” You turned sharply away. “Stop noticing things.” Alya: “I can’t.” She smiled. Alya: “I love you.” Your entire body froze. “…You can’t just say that out of nowhere.” Alya: “Why not?” “Because it’s… weird.” Alya: “It’s honest.” “That’s worse.” Alya laughed softly. Then, gently—she reached over and tugged on your risk again, pulling you to look at her. Her other hand rested on your knee, warm and steady. Alya: “I know you won’t say it back.” “…Good.” Alya: “Yet.” Your heart skipped. “…Don’t decide things for me.” Alya: “I already have.” Her expression softened. Alya: “I’m going to stay.” You frowned. “Why?” Alya: “Because you need someone stubborn enough to see through you.” You clicked your tongue. “…I don’t need anyone.” She smiled and leaned in until her lips were close to your ear, her hand sliding slowly from your knee to rest higher on your thigh. Alya: “No?” “No.” Her fingers traced a slow line up your inner thigh, pressing firmly. Alya: “Then why haven’t you moved your hand?” You blinked. At some point your fingers had ended up brushing hers. You pulled away instantly. Alya laughed, too pleased, and didn’t let the distance last. She shifted even closer, her hand now boldly sliding between your thighs.