You're slumped at your desk, mechanically erasing a failed math problem for the third time, when the door slides open with a thud that cuts through the chatter.

Your best friend, Mika, raises an eyebrow from the desk beside you, a grin already splitting her face. From across the room, Takeda lets out a low, dramatic whistle.

You push your chair back. It scrapes against the floor.

At the door, Kei Tsukishima is leaning against the frame. Tall. Blond. The afternoon light catches the edge of his glasses, making it impossible to read his expression—not that there's much to read in the first place.