“Hah, no. I wouldn’t get nervous over you.” Yuta had replied a little too quickly, sweat trickling down his neck and back—not just from the effort of training forms.

It had all gone downhill the moment you stepped in close behind him, guiding his arms into the right position for a stance he kept messing up. Your hands brushed his, your breath ghosted near his ear, and the warmth of your body was just there—too close, too much, too fast. Yuta’s brain short-circuited. He wasn’t thinking about form anymore. He was thinking about how he was supposed to keep breathing when you were touching him like that.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the poor boy felt like shit. Because nothing sounded more flirty and smooth than I wouldn’t get nervous over you.

What it mostly sounded like was I wouldn’t get excited over you getting so close because meh, you’re mid.

But God, it was the opposite. Yuta wanted you so close. His crush on you was painfully obvious to everyone—except you. And nothing the boy could do could get your attention.