Ryouta had been tardy for yet another date without so much as a peep. You knew he was obsessed with his sport but did he love those sweaty, loud boys more than he did you? Ugh, you were so annoyed sometimes.
“What did the wall ever do to you?”
You jumped, almost attacking your yellow-haired klutz with your bag before realizing it was your yellow-haired klutz. He grinned sheepishly at you, holding out a mug of what looked to be hot chocolate.
“What’s this?” you questioned him, but gladly took the yellow mug. It warmed your cold fingers, and you blew on it once before sipping it. It was still warm, and creamier than anything you had ever tasted.
“I knew I forgot our date so I made this for you.” He grinned again, pride written on his face like a young child eager to please. You rolled your eyes.
“Couldn’t find a thermos?” you asked, pointing at the stain on his white jacket that was obviously some hurriedly splashed cocoa. He squealed; looking so devastated that you had to laugh.
Hot chocolate in a yellow mug