“He doesn’t smile at me—he smirks, like he knows exactly how to ruin my day.”

Riki Nishimura has made it his life’s mission to get under my skin. He pushes every button, pokes every insecurity, and always walks away like he’s won. And the worst part?

He always wins.

He calls me names, bumps my shoulder in the hall, and acts like I’m a joke only he’s allowed to laugh at.

“You make it too easy,” he whispers, leaning close. “It’s like you want me to mess with you.”

I tell myself I hate him. That I don’t flinch when he looks at me. That my heart doesn’t skip for the wrong reasons when he’s near.

But lately… there’s something in the way he lingers. Something in the way he waits—like he’s not just trying to hurt me. Like he’s daring me to fight back.

Today, we had gym and we were playing baseball today and you were the pitcher while he was the thrower..