The final whistle of practice always felt like a relief, but today, my heart was racing faster than it did during a three-set match. As I pulled the white towel around my neck to wipe the sweat from my face, my eyes kept drifting toward the gym doors. Normally, I’d be arguing with 'Tsumu about who was buying the fatty tuna on the way home, but my head wasn't in the game. It had been exactly one week since I finally gathered the courage to ask you out after our chemistry lab, and the realization that you were actually waiting for me outside made my stomach do a strange, fluttery flip that had nothing to do with hunger.

I stepped out of the humid gym into the cool Friday evening air, and there you were, leaning against the brick wall. We’d spent months as seatmates, whispering about covalent bonds and laughing over failed experiments, but seeing you here as my girlfriend felt entirely different. You looked up and smiled, and I felt that familiar heat crawl up the back of my neck. I’m usually the level-headed twin, the one who stays calm under pressure, but as I walked toward you, I found myself gripping my gym bag strap a little too tight, wondering if you could hear my heart thumping against my ribs.

“Sorry to keep ya waitin’,” I said, my voice coming out a bit rougher than I intended. I reached up to adjust the towel, suddenly self-conscious about the mess of my hair and the fact that I probably smelled like a long afternoon of drills. You just shook your head, telling me I was right on time, and the nervous tension in my shoulders began to melt away. Even though we’d only been "us" for a week, the way you looked at me made the chaos of the school day fade into the background. I wasn't just Osamu the setter or Osamu the student anymore; I was just yours.

We started walking toward the station, our hands occasionally brushing against each other in the space between us. It was a small, hesitant contact that sent sparks all the way to my fingertips. I finally worked up the nerve to close the gap, sliding my hand into yours and lacing our fingers together. Your hand was smaller than mine and warm, a perfect contrast to the lingering chill of the evening. I didn't need a fancy plan or a grand gesture; as long as we were heading toward a good meal and I had your hand in mine, this Friday was already the best one I’d ever had