READER'S POV

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was warmth.

The steady rise and fall of a chest beneath my arm, the soft sound of breathing that wasn't mine. My eyelids fluttered as I stirred, shifting slightly in the bed. A yawn escaped my lips as I instinctively burrowed closer, wrapping my arm around the person beside me.

For a blissful moment, I was lost in that warmth—until reality came crashing in.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Loud, insistent knocking shattered the morning silence. My eyes snapped open, my heart lurching in my chest.

What the hell—?

I pushed myself up, blinking rapidly to clear the haze of sleep. My gaze dropped to the body beside me, and my confusion only deepened.

Miwa groaned in protest, turning onto her side and dragging my pillow over her head to block out the noise.

I blinked.

Then it hit me.

The Formula 1 race.

Miwa and I must've been too exhausted to drive back to her place, so she had decided to crash here instead. That explained why she was sprawled out in my bed like she owned it.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The knocking continued, loud and impatient.

I groaned, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed as I scrubbed a hand down my face. ,,Yeah, yeah! I'm coming!", I called, my voice still rough with sleep.

Padding barefoot across the cool wooden floor, I made my way to the door, tugging my oversized pajama shirt down as I went. When I reached the entrance, I twisted the lock and pulled it open—

Only to freeze.

Kokichi Muta stood in the doorway, his sharp eyes locking onto mine immediately.

Oh.

Right.

Miwa had a boyfriend.

His voice was clipped, laced with irritation:,,Where is she?"

I blinked, still groggy:,,Good morning to you too, I guess."

His expression darkened:,,Is. She. Here?"

I barely had time to nod before he shoved past me, striding into my apartment without hesitation. As if he owned the place.

Rude.

Shaking my head, I turned away, deciding to leave them to their totally-not-dramatic reunion. Instead, I made a beeline for the kitchen, flipping on the coffee machine. The soft hum of the machine filled the quiet space, followed by the rich, familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee.

I exhaled slowly, letting the warmth seep into my senses. Finally.

A movement caught my eye.

I turned just in time to see a sleek black figure leap gracefully onto the counter.

Kuro.

My cat landed effortlessly, his green eyes sharp and expectant as he gazed at me, tail flicking lazily behind him.

I couldn't help but smile:,,Good morning, my sweet baby."

He let out a soft purr in response, padding closer and nudging his head against my arm.

I chuckled, scratching behind his ear:,,Are you hungry?"

As if he understood, Kuro leaned into my touch, letting out a low purr.

I giggled and turned toward the pantry, pulling out a can of wet cat food. The second I peeled the lid back, Kuro perked up, eyes locked onto the food with laser focus.

,,Patience," I teased, pouring the contents into his bowl before setting it on the floor:,,Here you go."

Kuro wasted no time, hopping down and digging in.

Satisfied, I grabbed my coffee, taking a slow sip as I reached into my pajama pocket and pulled out my phone.

I absently scrolled through my notifications.

Messages from my parents.

A few texts from online friends.

A new Instagram follow.

My brows lifted slightly, and I tapped on the notification—only to freeze.

Toji Fushiguro.

Toji fucking Fushiguro.

The breath hitched in my throat. I sucked in air too quickly, accidentally choking on my own saliva.

I coughed hard, doubling over slightly as I smacked my chest, trying to breathe properly. Kuro startled at the sound, shooting me a withering look before going back to his food, unimpressed with my near-death experience.

But I barely noticed.

My heart was pounding as I stared at my phone, eyes locked onto his name.

There was no way. No way.

Hands slightly clammy, I hesitated before tapping on his profile.

20.8 million followers.

I swallowed hard and scrolled through his posts.

There he was—standing beside his sleek black race car, arms crossed, that signature cocky smirk on his face. Another shot of him at a sports event, flanked by other top athletes. A candid one of him in a foreign city, the neon lights illuminating his sharp features.

And then—

I paused.

One particular image caught my attention.

Toji standing on a balcony, dressed casually in a hoodie and sweatpants, looking out over a breathtaking skyline. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and the way the city lights reflected off his dark hair made him look effortlessly... unreal.

My throat went dry.

My gaze traced over him, my fingers tightening around my phone.

His broad shoulders. The scar on the right side of his lip. That intimidating yet devastatingly attractive gaze.

And this man—this man—was following me?

God. This couldn't be real.

I was so convinced that Toji had only been messing with me yesterday. That he had flirted for fun, to pass the time.

But now...

I could still hear his voice, low and teasing.
Could still feel the weight of his gaze, lingering on me just a second too long.

And the way he had called me a good girl in that deep, gravelly voice.

Heat had rushed to my face so fast it was almost embarrassing. I was so sure I had turned as red as a damn tomato.

I clenched my jaw, exhaling sharply.

Get it together.

Shaking off my nerves, I quickly tapped the follow button before I could overthink it. Then, I placed my phone down and grabbed my coffee again, lifting it to my lips.

But even as I stared absently at the swirling steam, I couldn't stop my mind from circling back to one thing.

Him.

The green, piercing eyes.
The scar that only made him look more attractive.
The way his dark hair had gleamed under the soft lights at the meet-and-greet.
And—most of all—

The way his gaze had made my heart stutter.

Over. And over. Again.

I exhaled slowly, gripping my mug a little tighter.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶

to be continued...