"Miyamura," Hori groaned. "Do you want to get held back so you can be in the same year as Shindou?"
Miyamura reached across the Hori's living room table to grab his tests back from his girlfriend—a term that never failed to make him giddy whenever he used it—but she leaned back, out of range of his arms.
"Of course not," he replied, flailing his arms over the table in a meager attempt to convince to Hori hand back his tests. "But why do I need English when I know Japanese just fine?"
Hori flipped through the rest of the tests in her hands. "You got a 77 on your Japanese literature test!"
"I said 'just fine,' not that I'm Haruki Murakami."
Hori laughed, but a crease remained between her eyebrows. "I'm serious. You need to do better on our English test next week or you could be in trouble."
He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the table. "I know. But it's so hard to find the motivation to study for something I'll never need once I start helping out with my family's bakery after graduation."
Hori quieted for a few beats. "Well," she cleared her throat. "If you study hard for this test, I'll give you a surprise."
Miyamura picked his head up from the table to look at her face, reveling in the pink flush that bloomed across her pretty cheeks as she cast her eyes upward to avoid his gaze. "A surprise?"
"Mmhmm," Hori hummed. Miyamura willed his eyes not to flicker down to Hori's plush lips. "But you need to get at least a 90."
He gulped. "A 90? Is the surprise that I'm never going to find out what this surprise is?"
Hori laughed again, cheeks still pink, but she finally met his eyes and gave him a sincere smile. His stomach launched itself into a warm whorl, threatening to drown him in his adoration for this fiery, caring girl. "I believe in you, Miyamura."
"Well well well," Shindou crooned, stretching back on Miyamura's bed to lean on his elbows. "It's about time you came to your genius friend for help."
"Yeah, a 'genius' who got held back a year. And maybe 'friend' is pushing it too."
"Hey now," Shindou protested. "Do you want my help or not?"
Miyamura sighed from his spot on the floor across from Shindou and contemplated the situation he'd gotten himself into. Shindou, as much of a pain in the ass he could be, was incredibly smart and a thousand times better at English than Miyamura could only ever dream to be. And Miyamura needed to get a 90 on this test, more than he ever before needed something in his life.
Coming to terms with his only option, Miyamura bowed his head and clasped his hands in front of his chest in desperation. "Yes, I do."
Shindou grinned. "How about 'Yes please my most genius best friend in the whole world'?" Seeing Miyamura's scowl, his grin only brightened. "I'll imply it this time since you seem so desperate."
Breathing out a silent sigh of relief, Miyamura cracked open his English textbook. "Okay, so in this unit we covered—"
"Why are you so desperate anyway?" Shindou interrupted, arching a ginger eyebrow. "You never cared about your grades this much before."
Miyamura kept his eyes trained on his textbook, but knew better than to try lying to his oldest friend. "I'm getting a surprise from Hori if I get a 90 on the test."
"Miyamura, you pervert!"
Glancing up to see Shindou's lecherous grin, he kicked the boy in the leg. "Hori is the one who promised!"
The kick did nothing to wipe the smirk off of Shindou's face. "So what kind of surprise are we talking?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't forget what I told you about using protecti-"
Miyamura landed another kick on his so-called friend's shin. "We haven't even kissed yet," he objected fervently. "I don't think I'm the perverted one here."
Shindou's smile softened. "You think the surprise is your first kiss?"
Miyamura shrugged, trying to regain some semblance of cool, but Shindou's face took on a rare expression of grave determination. "Goddammit, we're gonna get those pure lips of yours soiled if it's the last thing I do!"
Miyamura laughed, half in relief, half in exasperation, and the boys began conjugating an unholy number of irregular verbs.
"Uh, you okay dude?" Ishikawa asked, peering down at Miyamura, his form wearily slumped over his desk. "You look exhausted."
Miyamura blinked up at Ishikawa blearily. "Yeah, just been studying nonstop for this English test today."
"We have a test today?" Yoshikawa squealed, walking up to Miyamura's desk with Hori. "I totally forgot!"
"You'll be okay if you've been paying attention in class," Hori said, trying to soothe Yoshikawa.
Silence fell over the group. Ishikawa clapped Yoshikawa on the shoulder and grimaced. "You're doomed."
True to Yoshikawa's easygoing nature, she shrugged and smiled cheerfully. "Better luck next time, I guess."
Miyamura longed for the days where the consequences for forgetting about an English test were so easily brushed aside.
In his exhaustion and pre-test stupor, Miyamura missed Hori's concerned gaze scrutinizing his wan face.
The next day, before their teacher returned their tests, Miyamura and Hori agreed to wait until they arrived at her house after school to look at his grade. So Miyamura sat, tense, aching to look at the sheet of paper folded oh-so carefully in his bag, for what felt like a year rather than the two class periods he really endured.
During their walk to the Hori household, Miyamura struggled to keep his eyes away from Hori's lips, the pink of her tongue when she stuck it out at him in mischievous glee. He didn't have the guts to be the one to make the first move, but it was getting harder and harder to refrain from kissing Hori with each passing day. If he had any luck—a big but hopeful "if"—Hori's surprise would solve that problem.
Settling next to each other in the mercifully empty Hori household ("Souta must be out playing again," Hori mused), Miyamura and Hori stared at each other in anticipation.
"The wait is killing me, take your test out already!" Hori demanded, whacking Miyamura on the shoulder.
"Right right, you're right," Miyamura said, scrambling to pull the test out from his bag. The sheet of paper gleamed white in the late afternoon sun like a beacon of hope. He held his breath as he unfolded it.
A big, fat "88" stared back at him from the page. Mocking him. Taunting him. Crowing at him that he'd never get to kiss Hori, that he better start preparing himself now to live the rest of his life without ever knowing the taste of her lips on his.
He and Hori groaned in unison. "So close," he grumbled, tossing the paper on the living room table and covering his face with his hands.
"Ah, close enough."
Miyamura whipped his hands away from his face, his eyes searching Hori's own for any hint of deceit. "Really?"
Hori nodded, ponytail bobbing in rhythm. "Yeah. I mean, were you that exhausted yesterday just to find out what my surprise was?"
Miyamura could only smile sheepishly in response, though his heart pounded a staccato rhythm at the concern in Hori's eyes, at the way she inched closer to his body.
"You idiot," Hori huffed, rolling her eyes. "Idiot, idiot." But her annoyed tone did nothing to hide the flush that began to creep across her cheeks.
She paused, her blush deepening. "Close your eyes," she instructed.
Miyamura snapped his eyes shut, then in the darkness began to panic—are my lips too dry? what if they're so dry they cut Hori's lips? how far is the closest hospital?—until he heard Hori rustling in her bag. He tilted his head, trying to discern her movements.
Suddenly, her body was nearly flush against his, her arms looped around his neck. Her hands fiddled with something behind his back.
"There," she said, unraveling her arms from his neck and pulling back. "Open your eyes."
Opening his eyes in confusion, Miyamura looked down and realized that Hori had tied an orange apron around his neck—one that exactly matched the one she wore while cooking.
"Since you're always here and helping me cook," Hori began in a rush, "I thought it'd be nice to get you one too. Plus I had my mom embroider your name on it." She reached out, fingers brushing the kanji that Miyamura now noticed sat on the chest of the apron, over his heart.
She looked up at him, brown eyes glimmering with hope and a hint of trepidation. "Do you like it?"
A wellspring of emotions flowed from his heart. Adoration, admiration, love flooded his body, overtaking any trace of apprehension left in him.
He grabbed Hori's wrist from where it still hovered near his chest and pulled her to him. His other hand cupped her chin, tilting her head toward him.
Lips meeting, pulses pounding, fingers trailing down his back in a line of blissful heat. He never knew how soft Hori's hair could be when bunched tight in his grasp.
Far too few heartbeats later they pulled apart, chests heaving. Hori grinned up at him, a pleased curl to her lips. "Should I take that as a 'yes'?"
Miyamura laughed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "What, are you surprised?"
