It was just him and her, the girl he liked, under one roof. And with this acknowledgement came the incredibly conscious awareness of Koyuki’s presence—the sound of her breathing, the flipping of pages in her book. These subtle noises suddenly became as loud as a pachinko parlor in the silence of the empty house.
Self control, Naoya, self control. She’s reading right now. Don’t bother her, Naoya mentally chided himself, surprised by his own carnal desires. He closed the sliding door behind him and then slapped himself lightly on the cheek. “All right, it’s time to work.”
As Naoya had explained to Koyuki earlier, his job was taking care of Kirihiko’s chores. Tending to cleaning and laundry was obvious, but his job included cooking, as well. He normally stopped by two-to-three times a week
