I froze at the bombshell—he knows Aoba?—and the hot guy bowed. "Sorry, late intro. I'm Miyagi Kyo, Aoba-san's classmate. We sit next to each other."
"Oh, I see. Hope she's not a hassle…" I glanced at her.
She looked away. Hiding this guy from me? We'll talk later.
Hmm. Those faint stains on her sheets I'd brushed off—blood, huh? Classmates, desk neighbors, chummy like this… Only one answer: she popped her cherry for him. Smart—pain screws up first-time sex, and spooking a guy you've reeled in is dumb. Even shy girls prep for action, but Aoba? Big chest, no game—always opted out. I'd given up fixing that, but snagging a goody-two-shoes stud lit a fire under her. Must've hurt, kid. Red rice tonight—teasing ammo locked.
Time to play wingmom. "Then today's a thank-you for always helping her," I said, snatching his receipt.
Our fingers brushed—male touch after ages nearly got me going, but he's Aoba's. For now.
"No, I'm the one helped. Can't let you do that… uh, big sis," he said, gently taking it back, holding my hand.
"!?" Big sis?
"Oh, sorry—touched you out of nowhere. That was rude," he apologized.
"N-No, this old hag's hand's embarrassing! And 'big sis'? Too obvious a stretch—quit it. Not mad, though," I stammered.
"Really? Not 'big sis'?" he pressed.
Kid, that's overkill flattery—watch it, or you'll piss someone off. But it looped back to funny. Sharp tongue on this one. Chicken rice solo instead of parent-child combo, maybe?
"Miyagi, you're serious?" Aoba cut in, grabbing his shoulder.
Whoa, that's harassment—except he didn't flinch. "Natsuki-san, she's not your sister?"
"Huh? You touchy with everyone!?" I gaped.
"Natsuki-san, really? Your mom? Not a sister?" he asked her.
"Mom had me at nineteen. She looks young, but she's pushing forty," Aoba spilled.
Don't age me!
He stared—Miyagi, now—full-on. Shit, no makeup today—huge slip!
"Your makeup's… great?" he ventured.
Rude to ask, but top-tier praise. "Food biz—Mom barely wears any," Aoba said.
"You two look alike. Wow, Natsuki-san's gonna be a stunner later," he added.
Hold up. This kid's flattery's limitless. Push more—make this a day we'll never forget, Aoba included.
She glared, snagging the receipt back. "She's my mom, got it? I'll cover this—works for both of you, right?"
Smart—saves his wallet, pads ours, and lets her flex some girly pride.
"Cool, thanks, Natsuki-san," he said.
"No biggie," she shrugged.
"Heh, I'll repay you with my body next time," he quipped.
"B-Wha!?" Aoba flailed, a mess.
Nice one, Miyagi—little devil under that face. Gotta play adult, though.
"Miyagi-kun, joking or not, guys saying that to girls can get misread. Careful," I chided, a touch lofty.
His reply? "Not a joke—I've always wanted to get close to Natsuki-san. Mind if I drop by again?"
"Wh—Miyagi, you—mmph!" Aoba started, but I muffled her, beaming at him. "Of course! Anytime!"
He's already chasing her!? What's this dumbass been stalling for?
"How chicken are you? He's this forward, and you haven't pounced? My kid or not?" I fumed silently.
"Guess I'll head out. Can I… call you 'Mom'?" he asked.
A teenage boy saying Mom—my brain melted. Moms get this high daily? Jealous. Marry Aoba now and be my son! Wait—he said it, so he's mine already. Step-son status?