Suguru leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed but his sharp eyes betraying his boredom. Yaga-sensei’s lecture dragged on, the words blurring together in a monotone hum that tested even his considerable patience. He resisted the urge to sigh again, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tapped his fingers idly against his knee. Missions, training, anything else would have been preferable to this endless class.

Still, his gaze wandered, seeking something to distract him. His eyes flitted briefly to Satoru, who looked like he was seconds away from doing something obnoxious to break the monotony, then to Shoko, who appeared as calm and unbothered as ever. But it wasn’t until his gaze landed on Kanae that his restless mind stilled.

Her.

The moment he saw her, everything else seemed to fade. Suguru found himself leaning forward slightly, caught in the way her hair caught the light or how her lips looked so kissable. His heart gave an embarrassing lurch, skipping a beat before pounding a little too fast in his chest. It was maddening how she did this to him—without even trying, without even noticing.

He clenched his jaw, trying to will away the heat creeping up his neck. She had no idea how utterly, pathetically undone he was by her presence. How her eyes could linger in his mind for hours or how the mere thought of her looking his way made his stomach twist in knots he couldn’t untangle.

It was infuriating. And intoxicating.

He felt like a fool—a lovesick puppy trailing after the scent of something he could never quite reach. Satoru would probably tease him mercilessly if he ever found out, but Suguru didn’t care. Not really. Because in these stolen glances, in the quiet ache of longing, there was a strange sort of sweetness. And if this was what it meant to be completely, utterly whipped, then Suguru supposed he didn’t mind. Not one bit.