After the first class, the teacher left the podium, textbook in hand. Students began milling about, chatting and moving freely. A boy walked past Zhou Ye carrying a small bag of snacks for his girlfriend. He’d heard she often skipped breakfast, so he made sure to bring her something every day, watching her eat it to make sure she wouldn't go hungry. Zhou Ye always had the same reaction to this sort of thing: if she wants to eat, she’ll eat; if not, then not. Was it really necessary to practically spoon-feed her every day, coaxing her to take a few bites? He disliked people who needed constant supervision for things they should manage themselves. It showed a lack of self-discipline.
Behind him, a group of boys were discussing relationships. Zhou Ye didn’t pay much attention until he heard Xia Yao’s name mentioned. Someone said she was shy and easy to pursue if you were nice to her. A sensitive nerve within him twitched. He glanced back, listening to their conversation. He had zero dating experience and was genuinely curious about how to pursue a girl. Noticing his interest, one of his classmates said, “Class President, why listen to them? Just go ask for her WeChat, confess your feelings, and you’re golden. She’ll be the one initiating conversations after that.”
Zhou Ye paused, shaking his head. “What’s the difference between that and those creepy guys who stop girls on the street for their contact information?” His gaze drifted towards Xia Yao. She was focused on her homework, seemingly oblivious to the surrounding chatter.
The boy beside him continued, “Come on, it’s different when a handsome guy like you asks. Class President, with your looks, you could walk down the street and girls from their teens to their thirties would be interested.”
“Okay, that’s a bit much,” Zhou Ye said, cutting off the increasingly absurd conversation. He stood, drained his water bottle, and headed to refill it. Passing Xia Yao’s desk, he noticed she was working on the math exercises assigned yesterday. He stopped, watching her for a moment. She seemed to be struggling; her scratch paper was covered in crossed-out attempts.
After a moment of quiet observation, Xia Yao sensed someone watching her. Looking up, she saw Zhou Ye. Flustered, she stammered, “Cl-Class President, is something wrong?”
Zhou Ye pointed to a line in her work. “You used the wrong formula here.” Without pausing, he bent down, bracing one hand on her desk while the other flipped through her textbook, searching for similar problems and relevant concepts to explain the correct approach. Xia Yao’s face flushed crimson, though her posture remained composed. As Zhou Ye explained the problem in a low voice close to her ear, the skin behind her ears burned.
“…Do you understand?” he finished.
Xia Yao nodded, a quiet “Mm-hmm” escaping her lips. She awkwardly placed her pen on the textbook. “I understand. Thank you, Class President.”
As Zhou Ye straightened up, he caught sight of the delicate blush that had crept up her neck. A faint, fruity scent emanated from her collar, and the gentle curve of her chest beneath her shirt was distractingly alluring. He remembered a dream from last night where she had lifted her shirt, offering her br*ast to him. The image of the rosy peak against the creamy white skin, the feeling of its softness against his face, flashed through his mind.
He quickly averted his gaze, only to land on her dry, chapped lips. She was unconsciously picking at the skin with her fingers. His eyes finally settled on her full water bottle. He picked it up and placed it in front of her. “Drink some water. Stop picking at your lips, you’ll make them bleed.”
“Oh,” Xia Yao quickly pulled her hand away from her mouth. Hesitantly, she said, “This water is from the day before yesterday…I’ll go refill it.”
Before she could stand, Zhou Ye took the bottle. “I’m going to refill mine. You finish the problem. I’ll bring it back for you.”
“You don’t have to…”
He gently pressed her shoulder back down. “It’s fine.”
“Thank you, Class President,” she murmured, settling back into her seat.
“No problem,” Zhou Ye replied casually, taking her water bottle with him. As he waited in line, he looked at the translucent white plastic. She’d said the water was from two days ago, meaning she rarely drank anything at school. She always sat in the same spot, avoiding trips to the restroom or the water fountain, minimizing any need to leave her familiar space.
When the student in front of him finished, he was alone. As if compelled by an unknown force, he unscrewed the cap of her water bottle. He hesitated for a moment, then brought the rim to his lips, his tongue darting out.
Xia Yao finished the problem, letting out a sigh of relief. Looking up, she saw her water bottle sitting on her textbook. She glanced back at Zhou Ye’s desk. He was back in his seat, leaning over a book with his hand on his forehead. She looked away, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. The water was lukewarm, perfectly drinkable. She took a longer drink and considered thanking him, but the thought of the constant attention he received made her hesitate.
From his desk, Zhou Ye watched her drink. One hand reached beneath the desk, pulling his hardening penis free of his underwear. The pressure against his school pants was slightly more comfortable than the confinement of his briefs. He lowered his eyes, the physical sensations making him restless.
If she just said something, he’d be with her in an instant.
…But she remained silent.