Mochizuki Haruka crashed back into the corner of the sofa, her breathing ragged, fingers clutching a pillow like her life depended on it.
I screwed up. I totally blew it… again.
That was the entire content of her brain right now, looping on repeat with all the volume of a stadium speaker. In the dim neon-lit room, she looked so crushed by shame she might as well have shrunk a few centimeters on the spot.
Her brain had clearly short-circuited.
She'd spent all afternoon and evening prepping—lighting, aromatherapy, that absurdly sexy lingerie, "movie" snacks, a fake movie plan—everything scripted to deliver a seductive comeback after her drunken fiasco. And then… when the moment arrived, she just… chickened out.
Seduce him, push him down—then scream and send him flying like I was rehearsing for a slapstick comedy. What am I even doing?
It felt humiliating. Like no matter how hard she tried, expectations and fear just tangled into a huge mess, leaving her frozen and useless when it mattered most.
Why did she have to be like this? Why, when she liked Ginjo-san so much, did these moments always end in chaos?
He'll probably just give up on me. If I were him, I wouldn't stick around for this disaster, either.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye—her profile curled up tightly, eyes fixed on the fabric of her pajamas as if she could disappear inside the stitches.
Time for a rescue operation.
"Mochizuki-san?"
My voice, low and gentle, drifted across the silence like a warm breeze after rain.
She didn't even look up, only replied with a tiny, trembling noise.
"You're pushing yourself too hard, Mochizuki-san," I said, leaning forward so my shadow touched hers.
No anger, no sighs, not a hint of anything but calm reassurance. I could see her shoulders shake a little—her breath catching on the edge of a sob.
"Ah…um…" she stammered, fighting herself.
"Honestly, when you invited me to watch a movie, and then showed up dressed like that, I basically knew what you wanted. I get it."
"But you don't have to force yourself. Seriously. Believe me when I say I have zero intentions of pushing you."
My words landed softly, but not weakly—they carried the kind of conviction that demanded trust.
"…But… you must be thinking about it too, right?" she murmured, voice barely audible over the movie's cheesy soundtrack.
I smiled, not letting the tension linger. "Of course I am. It's natural—especially with Mochizuki-san, when you go all out like this. I'm thinking about it even now! …But I'd much rather wait until we're on the same page."
She blinked, startled by my honesty. For a moment, her embarrassment faded, replaced by a kind of vulnerable relief.
She finally raised her head, eyes glimmering, finding comfort in my smile.
"It's just… Even knowing all that, when it actually happens, I just…" She paused, gathering herself. "As a grown-up with no real experience in this, it's honestly pretty terrifying. Isn't that strange?"
"Not strange at all," I replied instantly. "Everyone's timing is different. No need to rush or feel sorry about it. Besides—" I let the words hang for a beat, "—it's an honor to be the one you wanted to try with."
Her eyes went wide. "Honor? Why?"
"Because you're trusting me with something important. That means more than anything."
A heavy lump of anxiety seemed to melt from her shoulders. The layers of "adult dignity" and "woman's pride" and "grown-up face" all dropped away, leaving only Mochizuki Haruka—hopeful, vulnerable, and a little bit brave.
This is the real her. Not the perfect seductress she tried to be. But that's okay with me.
"So…" I concluded softly. "Let's not force anything tonight. Whenever you're ready, we'll talk. For now, this movie really isn't so bad. The snacks are great, the room smells amazing, and I have the company I wanted."
She stared at me for a long moment, then dissolved into a soft, shy smile—the kind that made my chest ache in weird ways.
"No, Ginjo-san," she whispered, voice trembling with emotion, "I can't do that yet, but… at least let me try those other moves Rieko taught me. I have some pride, you know…"
"This is my last little bit of courage—I want you to see me try, if nothing else—"
I opened my mouth to tell her she didn't need to push herself, but the words never left. Because suddenly, she leaned in—slow, shaky, determined—and I felt her fingers tracing a trail of sweet heat across the bare skin of my arm…
A warm, tingling sensation spread from her touch, melting away any lingering awkwardness and filling the room with anticipation.