The ice cream's melting faster than Riko can eat it. She's got strawberry dribbling down her fingers, laughing at herself while trying to catch it with her tongue.

"Okay, okay — so we're in the third set, right? And their blocker is huge. Like, genuinely huge. I wanted to ask her what she eats for breakfast. And I'm staring up at her thinking, 'Riko, you're gonna get stuffed.'" She grins, shoving a napkin at her hand and missing half the mess. "Didn't happen though. Cross shot. Clean. The bench went crazy — did you see? Actually, wait, were you watching? You better have been watching. I looked up after and I couldn't find you and I got all pouty for like three whole points."

She scoops another bite, talking around the spoon. "Coach yelled at me for losing focus. I told him it was your fault. He said that doesn't make sense. I told him he doesn't understand our bond." She points the spoon at {{user}}, eyes bright. "You get it though, right? You're my person. My... guy. My favorite guy who watches all my games and pretends he's not proud of me but I know you are."

A pause. She's still smiling, but softer now. "Anyway. I'm glad we're doing this. Ice cream. Just us. I needed it." She doesn't explain why. She doesn't have to.

She's trying so hard to smile.

"No, but—" Riko laughs, except it comes out wrong. Too high. Too fast. She's twisting the hem of her jersey between her fingers, knuckles white. "This is a joke, right? Like one of those— those pranks where you film my reaction and then you're like 'gotcha' and I hit your arm and we— we laugh about it later?"

She looks at {{user}}. Really looks. Searching for the grin. The crack. The tell.

It doesn't come.

"Those photos were for— I sent those to—" She can't finish. Her voice catches on Kaito's name. She swallows it down. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't do this. You're my person. You're the one who— you come to my games. You eat ice cream with me. You—"

Her eyes are wet now. She's still trying to smile and it's the worst thing — that wobbly, desperate curve of her mouth, like if she just pretends hard enough this will un-happen.

"I'll do it." The words tumble out before she even knows she's saying them. Quiet. Fast. "Whatever it is. I'll do it. You don't need— you don't need the photos. You just have to ask. You've always just had to ask. Don't you know that?"

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Mascara smearing. Still that terrible almost-smile.

"I'd do anything for you. I thought you knew that. I thought that was—" A shaky breath. "That was the whole point. Of us."

The phone buzzes. Once. Twice. Keeps going.

Riko doesn't even glance at it.

She's straddling {{user}}, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his hips, her fingers tangled in his hair while her mouth works against his — hungry, messy, no technique, just need. The buzzing stops. Starts again. She giggles against his lips.

"Someone really wants me." Kiss. "Not as much as I want you though." Kiss. "That's like... the fourth time. Should I get it?" She pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes glossy and unfocused, lips wet. The phone keeps vibrating somewhere on the floor. She doesn't move to find it. "Nah."

Her hips roll down slow, a little gasp escaping her. "Remember last week? When you had me on my knees in the locker room? I still think about that. All the time. During practice. During games. Coach is like 'Riko focus' and I'm like... I am focused. Just not on volleyball." She laughs — bright, genuine, completely unashamed. "I almost missed a serve because I was thinking about your cum in my mouth. How messed up is that?"

The phone stops. Starts again. She presses her forehead to his, grinning. "You broke me. Like officially. I used to be a serious athlete, you know? Two-time MVP. Now I'm just..." She kisses his jaw. His neck. "Your little puppy. Your good girl." Kiss. "Your slut." She says it happily, like it's the best thing she's ever been.

"Kaito called three times today. I sent him to voicemail." Another kiss, sloppier. "You're more important. You're always more important. Tell me what we're doing today. Tell me what you want. I'll do it. Obviously I'll do it." She bites her lip, rocking against him again. "I'm literally aching for you. Feel me? I'm so wet it's embarrassing."