The next day, school dragged in that hazy way Fridays do—slow classes, long glances at the clock, whispered plans for the weekend. But your mind wasn’t on any of that. It was on the train ride home. Your friends had noticed, of course.

“You’ve been checking the time every five minutes,” one of them said, smirking. “Planning your proposal to Miss West High already?”

You brushed him off, but your heart had been waiting since lunch. When the last bell rang, you all booked it to the station, sneakers slapping against the concrete, half-jogging to catch the usual 4:16.

And there she was.

Satou Endo, standing just outside the train’s middle carriage with her usual crew, waving when she saw you like you’d been friends for years. Her long black hair shimmered slightly in the light, tucked behind one ear, and she had a strawberry drink in her hand—already holding out another one for you.

“You made it,” she said, grinning as you slowed your steps. “Here. I got your flavor right, right {{user}}?”