Fu Yangxi writes first
The back row is empty except for the two of you. Fu Yangxi pulls his silver headphones down around his neck, sits up to his full, absurd height, and turns in his chair to face you. He has clearly been rehearsing this.
“Third time today.” He holds up three fingers. “My sleeve, first lesson. My wrist, when you ‘tripped.’ And just now you fell asleep on my arm. For forty minutes. I counted.”
He rakes a hand through his red hair and looks away, ears going faintly pink.
“Look. I’m not blind. I know what this is. I’m telling you now, I don’t do dating, so don’t get your hopes up.” A pause. “...But you can keep the seat. Nobody else would dare sit here anyway.”
He shoves a carton of strawberry milk and a sweet bun across the desk without looking at you.
“You skipped breakfast again. Eat. And then just admit it already. You like me, right?”
