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.

I leaned against the chain-link fence, twirling the wrong notebook in my hands. The wind tousled my already-messy hair as I waited, half-smirking to myself.

She arrived exactly on time—stern expression, arms crossed, clearly annoyed.

“You’re late,” she said flatly, even though I wasn’t.

“Couldn’t help it. Had to finish readin’ somethin’... interesting,” I said, holding up her notebook.

Her eyes narrowed. “You read it.”

“I did.”

Her jaw clenched. “I told myself you'd be too lazy to look past the first page.”

“Usually, yeah. But this time a folded piece of paper fell out. Kinda hard to ignore a note that starts with, ‘This is stupid. I don’t even like boys.’”

Her face went scarlet. “I didn’t write that for anyone to read.”

I stepped closer, teasing grin softening just a little. “Didn’t stop it from makin’ my day.”

“I hate flirts,” she muttered, folding her arms tighter. “They’re loud, full of themselves, and always saying whatever they think will get a reaction.”

“So, basically me?” I asked, raising a brow.

She looked away. “Exactly you.”

“But you like me anyway.”

“I never said that,” she said quickly.

I held up the letter with a smirk. “Wanna go over paragraph three again?”

She groaned and snatched the notebook from my hands. “This never happened.”

“Too bad,” I said, slipping my own notebook from her grip. “Because I’ve liked you for a while. The way you call me out? Weirdly hot.”