Squinting her eyes, Sakurahara Momo breathed rapidly. Her chest rose and fell as her heartbeat pounded like a festival drum in her ears. Kissing Nozomi here—in public, under the glowing lights of the carousel—was exhilarating in a way she never imagined.

She had always prided herself on being composed, a model of grace and restraint. But now, flushed and flustered, she found herself making excuses in her heart.

Yes, she told herself, this was all for the sake of the act. She had to convince her relentless admirer that Nozomi was a genuine, unabashed pervert. That way, he'd back off.

She didn't even like that pursuer. Sure, it took guts to confess, and she respected that much. But he always wore that same old baseball cap, head down, bangs covering his eyes. How could she respond to someone when she couldn't even see his face? No. That wasn't romance.

Compared to him, Nozomi was… well, dazzling. Sharp-eyed, confident, and with a dangerous edge that made her heart tremble. Sumireko really had a good eye.

A wistful thought crossed her mind. Why hadn't she and Tsukimi ever met someone like Nozomi before? If she had met this kind of man earlier… she would've clung to him like a treasured limited-edition gacha prize.

Okay, maybe she could share him with Tsukimi. Maybe.

Eventually, Nozomi pulled away from her lips, a playful smile dancing on his face.

"Cherry-senpai," he said teasingly, "was that still part of the act?"

"Of course," she replied quickly, wiping her lips with a finger, pretending calm. "You already have a girlfriend—Sumireko. I wouldn't dream of challenging her. I mean, I know my limits."

But her eyes were misty. Her words trembled with something deeper, something she refused to name. Nozomi noticed, and with quiet gentleness, he reached out and rubbed her head.

"But, Cherry-senpai," he said softly, "what if I don't want to let go? I'm a possessive man. I keep the ones I like."

"I... W-what kind of question is that? Idiot. Don't ask a girl—make up your own mind!"

Her cheeks puffed as she leaned into him, warmth flooding her chest. Even when his hand brushed against her skin, she didn't flinch. Instead, she drew closer.

Nozomi inhaled sharply. "If you keep doing that, I'll really become a full-on pervert."

"Pfft. Aren't you already one? What's the difference now?" she teased, her voice laced with mischief as she rubbed herself closer.

Nozomi had no comeback. So, like any confident anime protagonist with a devilish streak, he shut her up with another kiss.

Momo's eyes fluttered wide, her lashes trembling as she blinked, overcome with emotion. Shyness, yes. But also joy.

See? she thought. Sakurahara Momo was still desirable. Yasuo Hazuki had to be blind—or broken—to reject someone like her.

Now, as she melted into Nozomi's arms, she didn't want to think about anything else.

From a distance, Kusami Runai—her baseball cap tilted low—watched, clutching her chest like she'd been stabbed.

What happened to solidarity? What happened to swearing off guys together? And now Cherry—glorious, radiant Cherry—was looking like she had just leveled up in a dating sim while Kusami Runa was still stuck on the friendship route.

She bit her lip. What did kissing feel like? Why did Momo look so ridiculously happy? It was unfair.

Meanwhile, Nozomi, dazed by the flavor of cherry and mint, was starting to lose his grip. Sakurahara Momo was like an addictive limited-time flavor of parfait. Once you tasted it, you couldn't stop.

He needed to thank that brainless Yasuo. If not for his cluelessness, Momo would never have fallen into his arms.

Breathing heavily, he whispered near her ear: "Cherry-senpai, let's go ride something else. Also… your perverted boyfriend has a problem you might need to help solve."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Nozomi… what do you mean by that?"

Nozomi smiled devilishly, his breath brushing against Momo's ear as he whispered something so bold that it turned her cheeks bright pink.

"Wha—No! How can you even suggest that?!"

"But I'm seriously uncomfortable here, Cherry-senpai," he whispered dramatically.

She bit her lip. "Ugh... you really are the worst! I-I can't handle you sometimes..."

Despite her flustered protests, Nozomi took her by the hand and whisked her toward the single bathroom like a scene straight out of a steamy shoujo manga. By the time they stepped out, their hair slightly disheveled and cheeks burning, the carousel of the amusement park had spun several times without them.

Momo clung to Nozomi's arm, her steps lighter than air, but her throat felt a little dry. She swallowed unconsciously, her fingers brushing against her neck as the memory of earlier flickered vividly in her mind.

...

Meanwhile, from a hidden corner, Kusami Runa watched them return to the crowd of rides and colors. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

They... went to the bathroom together? Together?!

She didn't even need to imagine what happened. The way Cherry was glowing now said it all.

Cherry, you traitor! Do you even remember you have a best friend still watching from the sidelines?!

As they explored the rest of the amusement park—haunted houses, bumper cars, even a ride on the Ferris wheel—Momo's face held a smile so sweet and genuine, it could melt mochi. Her earlier sadness had been washed away completely, replaced by the radiance of a girl in love.

Kusami Runa couldn't look away.

This... this is the real Momo.

Was Nozomi really the reason for that change?

And if so... should she try getting closer to him too? Just a little?

Still, not everyone watching from the shadows felt the same warmth. The quiet girl who had long harbored a crush on Momo clenched her fists. Her eyes never left Nozomi, burning with complicated emotions.

That shameless pervert.

But even she couldn't deny it—Momo had never smiled this brightly before.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

She hated how easily Nozomi made Cherry sparkle, how naturally he fit by her side, and yet... he didn't seem like a threat anymore.

Maybe he wasn't the villain she thought he was.

After all, it was Cherry who had taken the initiative. Nozomi had just gone along, playing the role she gave him.

But he didn't resist either.

Time moved along like the slow spin of the park's ferris wheel.

Momo led Nozomi to a cozy little café. They shared strawberry cake and cocoa, giggling like middle schoolers.

And then, hand in hand, they slipped into the cinema.

She picked a romantic movie, but the second the lights dimmed, her attention was completely stolen—not by the screen, but by the sly hand creeping along her thigh.

Her face flushed red as she turned to glare at him, her voice barely a whisper. "Pervert... not in here."

But Nozomi simply smirked, using his other hand to gently lift her chin and plant another kiss on her soft lips.

Who needed a movie, anyway?

She glanced around and, seeing they were seated in the last row, boldly slid onto his lap.

Her arms wrapped around his neck. Their lips met again.

In that moment, all thoughts of pretending vanished.

Momo Sakurahara had fallen—completely and undeniably—for her ridiculous, perverted, and strangely lovable boyfriend.