Chapter 554: Teasing Yuko

I leaned against the car, my phone pressed to my ear. Yuko’s voice was sharp when she answered, but she didn’t argue—just a curt "I’ll be down" before the line went dead. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and waited, my gaze fixed on the apartment building’s entrance.

Twenty minutes later, the door of the building swung open, and Yuko stepped out.

She had changed.

Gone was whatever she’d been wearing before—replaced now by a fitted black top that clung just enough to hint at the curves beneath, the fabric thin but not revealing. Her jeans were dark, slightly distressed at the knees, hugging her legs in a way that made it clear she wasn’t trying to hide—just to armor herself.

The black leather jacket she’d thrown on was the final touch, zipped up to her collarbone, the sleeves slightly too long, covering her wrists like she was bracing for a fight. Even her boots were practical—sturdy, black, laced up tight. Every inch of her was covered, shielded, like she was daring me to try and get past her defenses.

Perfect.

Yuko walked toward me, her steps measured, her posture rigid. There was a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in her jaw that told me everything I needed to know—she was afraid.

She stopped a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a glare. "What are you looking at?" Her voice was sharp, arrogant, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—something that almost looked like nervousness.

I didn’t look away. I let my gaze travel over her slowly, deliberately, taking in every detail—the way the jacket hugged her shoulders, the way her fingers curled slightly against her arms, like she was fighting the urge to fidget. "Yuko," I said, my voice low, sincere, "you look really beautiful."

Her cheeks flushed—just for a second—before her expression hardened. "Don’t talk nonsense," she snapped, but her voice lacked its usual bite. She shifted her weight, her boots scuffing against the pavement.

I stepped closer, just enough to invade her space without touching her. "I’m not," I murmured. "You’re as beautiful as Haruna."

Her eyes narrowed, but the blush deepened, spreading down her neck. "Of course, Haruna is beautiful," she muttered, her voice tighter now. "She got it from me and our mother."

"Then it runs in the family," I said, my voice smooth, watching the way her breath hitched just slightly. "You have her eyes. Same shape. Same fire."

Yuko’s fingers twitched at her sides, like she was resisting the urge to shove me away. "Flattery won’t work on me," she said, but her voice was less steady now.

I smirked. "Who said I was trying to flatter you?"

She exhaled sharply, her shoulders tensing. "Let’s just go," she bit out, turning away from me. "And get this over with. Aunt Julie is alone with Hannah and Haruna now, so we can start now."

I fell into step beside her, matching her pace. "Lead the way."

We started walking toward the café, the distance between us deliberate—Yuko kept to the far edge of the sidewalk, her body angled away from mine like even the brush of my sleeve against hers would burn.

I let the silence stretch for a moment, watching the way her fingers flexed against her jacket, the way her gaze darted sideways every few seconds, checking if I was still there.

Then I leaned in, just slightly, my shoulder brushing hers.

Yuko stiffened instantly, whirling toward me, her eyes flashing. "What—?" Her voice was a warning, low and dangerous. "I’m telling you, if you ever touch me again—"

I stopped, turning to face her fully, cutting her off. "I’m going to call Hannah to bring Haruna down," I said, my voice calm but firm.

"We need to look like we’re actually together, Yuko. Or this won’t work." I held her gaze, unflinching. "And don’t worry..." I lowered my voice, just for her. "I won’t take advantage of you."

She glared at me, her chest rising and falling a little faster now. "I don’t trust you," she said, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

"You don’t have to," I replied, my voice even. "But you do have to play the part."

She held my gaze for a long moment, her jaw clenched, before finally exhaling through her nose. "Fine," she muttered, but she didn’t step away. "But if you try anything—"

"You’ll what?" I asked, my lips curling into a smirk. "Kick my ass?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don’t test me."

I chuckled, low and dark. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

She huffed, turning back toward the café, but this time, she didn’t pull away when I fell into step beside her. The distance between us was smaller now—just enough to look natural, just enough to make her aware of every shift of my body, every brush of my arm against hers.

"It’s better that you know," she muttered, her voice quieter now, almost to herself.

I glanced at her, my expression unreadable. "Oh, I know."

And I did.

I knew exactly how this would play out.

By the end of the night, she’d know it too.

The sunset painted the street in molten gold and deep crimson, casting long, dramatic shadows as we stood outside the café. The air was thick with the scent of distant rain and the faint hum of the city, but all I could focus on was Yuko—her rigid posture, the way her fingers dug into the leather of her jacket sleeves, the tension radiating off her like heat.

I pulled out my phone and sent Hannah a text—"Come down. Now."—and almost immediately, the reply lit up the screen: "Ok." Short. Sharp. No nonsense.

Yuko shifted beside me, her boots scuffing against the pavement. "We’re here," she said, her voice clipped, her arms still locked across her chest like a barricade. "So, should we go in?"

I didn’t look at her right away. Instead, I let my gaze linger on the café’s entrance, the warm glow spilling onto the sidewalk. "We should wait," I said, my voice smooth, deliberate. "Till Hannah brings Haruna here. So she can see us together. Make it believable."

Yuko’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. She just nodded, a sharp, jerky motion, and fell silent. The space between us was charged, electric. I could see the way her breath hitched when my shoulder brushed against hers, the way her fingers twitched like she was fighting the urge to shove me away.