346 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

**Chapter 346** I have plenty of time. This marks the end of work and university exams, heralding the start of summer vacation. Concurrently, it signifies a day without Sendai-san's presence. Of course, it's not that Sendai-san will be gone forever; she's just about to return. I flip through a fashion magazine that seems like something Sendai-san might read. I spot clothes that would likely suit her well. Turning another page, I see models wearing outfits that feel distant from my own reality. It's dull. Today, Sendai-san went out with Mio-san. I let out a sigh and glance at my phone on the table. It's been about forty minutes since receiving a message from Sendai-san that she'd return in about an hour. Time without any clear plans tends to stretch endlessly. After having breakfast with Sendai-san this morning, I've spent my day doing nothing. I've eaten lunch and dinner alone, and now I find myself listlessly flipping through magazine pages in the shared space. Considering how much time I have on my hands, it seems only right for Sendai-san to hurry back. Yet, having urged her to get along with Mio-san, I have no right to send a message saying, "Come home soon." I continue turning the pages of a magazine I'm not particularly interested in. I'm not sure if Mio-san would read this magazine, but it's plausible. At the very least, it seems Mio-san and Sendai-san would have more in common than I do. The distance between Sendai-san and Mio-san doesn't seem too vast nor too close, but surely, Mio-san could bridge any gap if she wished. However, it's not something Sendai-san permits. I consider Sendai-san admirable for that, and despite having encouraged her to befriend Mio-san, there's a part of me that feels guilty for preferring her to keep some distance. "Boring." Recently, a platypus tissue cover that had exchanged hands between me and Sendai-san reverted back to a crocodile, yet Sendai-san herself hasn't returned. If the crocodile were chatty as Sendai-san once whimsically suggested, it might have entertained me in my boredom. However, when I spoke to the crocodile earlier, it remained merely a mute tissue cover. I close the magazine and stand up. Though I have no specific tasks, I decide to return to my room with the magazine. Just as I get up, not yet an hour later, the shared space door swings open, and in walks Sendai-san. "I'm back," comes her bright voice, to which I respond, "Welcome home." Then I add, "You're late, Sendai-san." "I returned earlier than I messaged, didn't I?" "Well, yes, but..." "I actually intended to return even earlier, but Mio was quite insistent on hanging out a bit longer," she says, offering a somewhat troubled smile before taking a seat and calling out, "Miyagi." Clearly, it’s an invitation not to retreat to my room, so I reluctantly take a seat myself. "Was Mio-san doing well?" I ask, already knowing the answer but bereft of other questions. "She was bursting with energy, insisting that we hang out again during summer vacation." Her words make my eyebrows knit together. I gaze steadily at Sendai-san, who sports a cheerful smile. "You’re going out with Mio-san?" "I don’t have any such plans as of now. Should I make some?” This is not good behavior from Sendai-san. She’s trying to make me decide her plans and her relationship with Mio-san. Sendai-san should choose to befriend Mio-san on her own, deciding for herself whether to meet or not. While I may or may not be open to plans Sendai-san makes, it's wrong of her to ask me. So, I respond with another question. "Do you want to make plans, Sendai-san?" "If I'm making plans, it'd be with you, Miyagi." "That's not an answer." What I asked was whether she intended to plan something with Mio-san, not about plans with me. "You didn't specify whose plans you were asking about, Miyagi." True, I didn't explicitly ask, "Do you want to make plans with Mio-san?" But from the context, it should be clear we were talking about her and Mio-san, not about me. Truly, Sendai-san is crafty. She avoids supplying the right answers though she knows them. "By the way, Miyagi, Mio said the mixer was quite a hit." Sendai-san tries to shift the topic cleverly, though it's not particularly interesting. "I know. Maika and Mio-san told me." Just before summer break, Maika attended a mixer that Mio-san had invited her to. It seemed to be an exceptionally good time, as Maika called me that night, hooking me into a rather long conversation with her cheerful voice. I also received a message from Mio-san, reporting back. "Utsunomiya said it was fun too. Did she mention anything else?" “She said next time, come along with Sendai-san." "Do you want to go, Miyagi?" "Not at all. I’m not good with those things." Despite an invitation from Mio-san to join next time, I declined. Even if Maika persists in inviting me again, I'll refuse. No matter how fun they say it was, I'm not interested. "I see. I'm not good with them either." Her voice comes, neither too low nor too high. When I was working part-time, Mio-san mentioned that no matter how many times she invited, Sendai-san rarely showed up to such gatherings, and even when she did, she’d leave promptly. Thus, I believe her words that she's not fond of them aren't lies. Yet, knowing she has attended a few of these events before is irksome. "Sendai-san, an order." Perhaps unknowingly, my voice is slightly lower. Fixing my gaze on hers, our eyes meet. She's oddly serious, yet remains silent. "You remember why you're being ordered, right?" A prompt reply comes to my questioning. "Of course. On days I go out with Mio, I have to obey Miyagi's wishes, right?" With that, Sendai-san utters the correct response, continuing, "I'll follow any order, so go ahead." "Look at this book." I hand the magazine I was holding over to Sendai-san. "Did you buy this, Miyagi?" "Does it matter who bought the book?" "It's not the type of magazine you'd usually read, so I was just curious." Saying that, Sendai-san places the magazine on the table and flips open the cover. "I've looked at it, but what's next?" she asks. "Read it and tell me your favorite page." "Is such a minor order really fine with you?" "Do you have a complaint?" If I had to say whether the order is good or bad, then it's bad. But today, I wish to stick with this order. "It's just... I expected a different kind of order." "What kind of different order?" "Let's see, for example—like, 'Lick it,' or something." Sendai-san utters shameless words in a gentle voice, flashing a smile. Her gaze fixed not on the magazine, but squarely on me. "Why do you always say such ridiculous things so quickly?" "Because you seem to like it, Miyagi. So, where would you like me to lick?" With a smile that never fades, Sendai-san stands up and approaches me. Her hand clasps my wrist. She gently pulls me in, and my fingers brush against her lips. Her tongue slides across my fingers, then my knuckles. The warm saliva clings to me, expanding its territory. "I never said you could lick." I try to pull back, but she pulls me closer. The tongue gliding on my skin feels strangely comforting despite its damp unpleasantness. Her lips press against my palm, the tip of her tongue probing. If this were a dog's innocent nuzzle, it wouldn’t bother me, but what I feel from Sendai-san is nothing of the sort. It's reminiscent of the sensations from past encounters on the bed, dredging up memories better left forgotten. "Sendai-san, stop it." I push against Sendai-san's forehead while she's pretending to be a dog. "Is there somewhere else you'd prefer I lick?" "I never said that. Don't lick anywhere." "Then how about touching?" As she says this, she sharply tugs my wrist. I'm pulled to my feet and held in her embrace. "You’re annoying." I stomp on Sendai-san's foot for disregarding my words. Yet, she refuses to release me. Her hand slithers under my T-shirt, caressing my side. "Sendai-san, you're a pervert." I stomp harder and push on her stomach, creating some space between us. "Believe it or not, I'm actually holding back." Her voice doesn't carry the tone of regret. "Hold back more." "Then let’s create a day when I don’t have to hold back, shall we?" "No way." My firm words prompt a whisper in my ear from Sendai-san. "Next time, I want to try something with you, Miyagi." "...Try what?" "What you just imagined." "Sendai-san, you pervert." I glare at Sendai-san, who says nothing but nonsensical things, and point to the chair she vacated. "Instead of saying weird stuff, sit there and tell me your favorite page in the magazine." "Okay, okay." With a voice full of dissatisfaction, Sendai-san takes a seat. She then turns a page of the magazine. I readjust myself in my chair and let out a small sigh. I’m uncertain if Sendai-san will meet with Mio-san again during summer break, but if there's any chance of it, I must quickly choose a necklace that clearly signifies she belongs to me. Yet, deciding on a necklace for Sendai-san seems like a task beyond my reach. I hoped the magazine I bought might offer some insight, but the more I read, the less I understand. Maybe having the wearer herself look through it will yield some helpful information. "Miyagi, it’s hard to read with you staring at me like that." Sendai-san remarks as she turns another page. "I'm not really staring." "Alright then." Her elegant fingers turn another page. Before long, half the magazine is read, and then another section. But whether Sendai-san is truly reading is uncertain. The pages are flipping at a modest pace. Before I know it, she reaches the last page and lifts her eyes. "This one, perhaps." She directs the open magazine towards me on the table. "...It's a sunscreen feature." The page that Sendai-san chose contains nothing but various sunscreens, lacking any accessories, clothing, or models that might serve as a reference for me. "It’s summer, after all. It piqued my interest." "...Whatever." I close the magazine and stand up. "Did I do something wrong?" "It’s not that you did anything wrong. But you're annoying." I step lightly on her foot in front of me. "Ouch," she exclaims dramatically, and with that, I bite into Sendai-san's ear.