Each glance sent a ripple of unfamiliar restlessness through him, a disconcerting loss of control. Her profile was soft, her lashes long and childlike. Stray hairs clung to her damp forehead, her cheeks flushed. He'd only offered to help her practice after seeing her teased earlier that day. But now, with just the two of them, something had shifted. She was clumsy, yet, aware of his presence, she persisted, mimicking his movements. She seemed reserved, but there was an undeniable genuineness about her. He found it… endearing. 

A strange, unfamiliar thought surfaced, his mind conjuring images from porn he'd seen: a muscular man pinning down a pale woman, gripping her br3asts, driving her to whimpers and moans. He covered his mouth, hiding his suddenly heated face. He’d never had such thoughts about her before. Yet, as they sat there, a subtle stirring began in his pants. This was wrong. 

“Class President… Class President? Do you need to go?” Xia Yao called out. He didn’t respond. She nudged his arm, repeating his title. Zhou Ye snapped out of his reverie, shaking his head, his voice slightly hoarse. “It’s fine. I can stay and help you practice. I don’t have anything to do at home.” 

“You don’t have anything to do at home?” Xia Yao sounded surprised, finding common ground. Unaware of his privileged background, she assumed he was just a regular high school student like her. 

“No, nothing planned today.” What Zhou Ye meant by "no plans" was no tutoring sessions. Besides school, his days were filled with private lessons arranged by his family. He’d always been driven, pursuing multiple interests, mastering the art of time management. Study time was for studying, practice for practicing, and playtime was sacrosanct. And this, observing her, was his playtime lately… even though she seemed indifferent to him. 

He kept telling himself it was just a high school thing. Friendship was fine. He didn’t need to pursue anything more serious. His life was already full. If she wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t waste his time chasing a dead-end relationship. He saw no point in striving for something unattainable. Xia Yao, glancing at the overcast sky, sensed impending rain. She wiped her brow and stood. 

“Let’s keep practicing. The sooner I learn, the sooner you can go home.” 

Her ponytail, now slightly disheveled from jumping, bobbed against her head. After a few more attempts, a tall, attractive girl with wristbands and a water bottle approached. Zhou Ye was mid-sentence, correcting Xia Yao’s form, when the girl interrupted. “Why are you still here? School’s been out for ages.” 

Chen Yuyue’s tone was familiar, her hand landing on Zhou Ye’s shoulder. “Teaching a classmate how to high jump,” he replied, shrugging off her hand. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at volleyball practice?” 

“Finished. I saw you from across the field and thought I’d say hi.” Her gaze flickered to Xia Yao, then back to Zhou Ye. 

“When are you organizing another practice match with the girls’ volleyball team? Coach said we have a tough game against the neighboring school.” 

“I’m a bit busy. Maybe next time.” 

“Oh… you don’t look busy.” 

The girl lingered. Xia Yao shifted uncomfortably. Thankfully, a light drizzle began to fall, breaking the tension. “It’s raining,” Xia Yao said, looking at Zhou Ye. 

“You can talk. I’ll stop practicing for today.” 

The rain was undeniable. Zhou Ye helped her carry the mats back to the equipment room. He watched her walk towards the classrooms, a sudden urge to follow her rising within him. But Chen Yuyue grabbed his wrist. “Hey, don’t go. Let’s head to the gym and talk about the game.” 

A strange urgency gripped him. He watched Xia Yao’s receding figure in the fine rain, then, without a word, pulled free from Chen Yuyue’s grasp and followed Xia Yao, quickly catching up. Rain clung to his face. Xia Yao, sensing his presence, turned and saw him walking beside her, silent, his expression unreadable. Confused, she glanced back at the outgoing athlete. 

Chen Yuyue stood watching, then abruptly turned and walked away. Xia Yao felt a flicker of anger from the other girl, but Zhou Ye seemed unaffected, his demeanor unchanged by others’ moods. “I’m going home too,” he said, his voice muffled. 

“I’ll teach you more tomorrow.” 

“Um… thank you, Class President.” They thanked each other and returned to their classroom to gather their belongings. A restless heat coiled in Zhou Ye’s chest, an unfamiliar anxiety. He didn’t understand his own actions. They weren’t dating. Why had he felt compelled to follow her? This wasn’t like him. 

Something was wrong. Overwhelmed by his agitation, he grabbed his bag and left without a word. Xia Yao turned to find the classroom empty, once again alone. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, glanced at his empty desk, and then, with a sigh, looked down.