Late Night Lullabies

A Supernatural Delight

9:05 PM; the time shown on Erina's neon pink electric clock while she's sitting still like The Thinker sculpture. The only thing moving is her pen dancing a hardcore salsa with her slender fingers as her eyes are glued to the unsolved Food Waste Management homework lying on her desk.

At the top of the page, the question's written: What causes food waste in the supplier-retailer interface?

This is why it's her least favorite subject: waste is not something she deals with. She hires somebody to do it to whatever the case it is. The only thing that touches her is fresh, untainted ingredients and she'll always turn those rough diamonds into pieces of immaculate jewelries. Not that she fails at the course, though- Nakiris are expected to excel at everything.

Speaking of waste...

A certain redhead pops into her mind, a reminiscent that it has been three days since she last spoken to him. Or the last time they made a... face-to-face contact- the least way she could ever put it.

Obviously, she's been having a miserable time avoiding that brat. Not only that it's hard that they had to pass each other occasionally at the dorm or main building- which she would easily throws her face in the opposite way, but also the way he managed to greet her nonchalantly every single time somehow offended her. More than that one time a brainless, so-called two-hatted chef served her sockeye salmon ice cream for dessert and called it his "breakthrough innovation".

Much to her annoyance, at times she would find herself stealing glances at that golden-eyed baka in class, and got bothered when one time that baita named Kawashima Urara got way too friendly towards him, giggling and dangling on his arms and all. Typical dense rascal would laugh away with her without returning any more gesture.

Frustrated with the thought, the pen that's once in her hand got thrown across the desk before she tangles her fingers on her honey blonde locks and making a resentful pull out of it. Yukihira Sōma- why must it be him out of all people?

Erina admits; she misses him, and she hates him for it. She misses their private late-night haven that used to flies time. Even she misses that crooked grin on his face every time he gets too cocky. But then he had to seduce her with that stupidly amazing Crème Brûlée resulting in her kissing the life out of him.

He's made a fool out of her, and now she has to try to live with this desire to kiss him again.

She is about to frustratedly reclines her back and closes her notebook with an undone work when a knock on her bedroom door is heard.

"Who is it?" She shouts.

But there is no answer from the other side.

Irritatedly, she rises from her chair and steps towards the door. But come to think of it, maybe a little distraction from her Sōma-clouded mind might not be that bad. Perhaps it's Hisako bringing her some new shōjo manga series she requested this afternoon.

She opens the door, and leaning to the side is the same person that she doesn't wish to linger on her mind a while ago. That same person with that striking red hair and golden irises that not even paperwork could distract her from it. Sturdy figure is dressed with his usual navy blue laid-back sweats, and his callous hand is rested loosely against the door frame with that bewitching smile spreads across his face.

"Y-Yukihira Sōma-kun?!" Erina stutters, almost reflectively wants to shut the door, but that grin of his has turned her hand into a brick. "W-What are you doing here?"

"Yo, Nakiri! You look happy to see me." Sōma greets her as if he's unaware that her jaw is practically on the floor.

"I-In your dreams, Yukihira. Get over yourself." She pouts, folding her arms as an attempt to stay cool, which fails since her face is showing fifty shades of red.