Morning," the driver called out, the doors of the bus creaking open. The cool early air brushed against my face as I stepped inside. The scent of gasoline and leather mixed with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the driver's mug. It was the same routine every day: grab a seat, plug in my headphones, and watch the world blur by as the bus rumbled along the route to school.

Today, though, I had a mission. The seat beside me was empty, a rare sight, but the one behind was occupied by him – Nanami Kento. The 18-year-old boy with the enigmatic aura that had me scribbling his name in my notebook margins for the past year. His dark hair fell over his eyes, creating a veil that made it impossible to read his expressions, even when he was just a couple of feet away.

The bus lurched forward, and the hum of the engine grew louder as we left the quiet streets behind. I could feel his presence, his warmth almost palpable against my back. I fiddled with the wire of my headphones, my heart racing. I knew I had to act now or miss my chance. With a deep breath, I turned and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Could you help me with this?" I held out my math textbook, a thin layer of sweat coating my palms.

Nanami looked up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time outside the confines of my daydreams. They were a piercing shade of blue, so vivid they seemed unreal. His expression remained unreadable, but he took the book and leaned in slightly, his breath tickling the hairs on my neck. His fingers brushed against mine as he flipped through the pages, searching for the problem I had pointed to. His touch sent an electric current through me, making it hard to focus on anything but the heat of his skin.

"Here," he said, his voice low and steady. He'd found the solution. "You just need to simplify this equation."