The Class President’s Struggle
Yuma, the esteemed class president, prided himself on his intelligence, leadership, and problem-solving skills.
But there was one problem he couldn’t seem to solve.
A *Kota*-sized problem.
—
It all started when Yuma first noticed Ayumi.
She was smart. Not just average smart, but *top-three-in-the-class* smart. A rare kind of student who actually *listened* to lectures instead of spacing out like the rest of their classmates.
Yuma respected that.
He admired that.
And, okay, maybe he liked her a little.
Just a little.
—
As class president, Yuma had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t just *walk up* to a girl and start a conversation out of nowhere.
No.
He needed a strategy. A well-planned, flawlessly executed approach.
So he planned.
—
Step One: Casual Interaction.
The perfect opportunity arrived during a group activity. The teacher split the class into teams, and Yuma made sure to subtly adjust the seating arrangement so that he and Ayumi would be in the same group.
Perfect.
He could initiate conversation naturally. No pressure. No weirdness.
He cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s divide the tasks evenly. Ayumi, you’re good at—”
*KOTA SNEEZED LOUDLY.*
Ayumi turned away immediately. “Bless you!”
Kota groaned. “Ugh, thanks. That came out of nowhere.”
Yuma clenched his fist under the table.
His moment—*gone.*
—
Step Two: A Shared Interest.
Yuma had done some *research.*
(Okay, fine, he overheard Ayumi talking to Kota.)
He learned that Ayumi liked drawing. *Art.*
So, like any logical person, he spent the entire weekend improving his doodling skills, practicing the best way to casually mention, “Oh, yeah, I like drawing too.”
Monday arrived.
The moment came during lunch. Ayumi was sketching something in her notebook.
*Perfect.*
Yuma slid into the seat across from her and smiled. “Hey, Ayumi, I was wondering—”
*KOTA DROPPED HIS CHOPSTICKS.*
They clattered onto Ayumi’s notebook. “Oh, crap, sorry!”
Ayumi immediately focused on wiping away the food stains. “It’s fine, Kota, just be careful next time.”
Yuma clenched his fist under the table.
His moment—*ruined again.*
—
Step Three: Compliment Her Work.
Yuma switched tactics.
If he couldn’t create *natural* interactions, he’d just wait for an opening.
And it came—when the teacher praised Ayumi’s high test score.
The perfect chance.
All Yuma had to do was lean over and say, *“Great job on the test, Ayumi.”*
Simple. Smooth. Flawless.
He took a deep breath, turned to Ayumi, opened his mouth—
*KOTA SLAMMED HIS TEST ON THE DESK.*
“HAHA, I PASSED! LET’S GO!”
Ayumi turned to him with a grin. “Nice! What’s your score?”
“Barely above failing, but a win is a win!”
Ayumi laughed. “True!”
Yuma clenched his fist under the table.
*KOTA.*
—
Step Four: Accept Fate.
Yuma sat at his desk, head in his hands.
Three attempts. Three failures.
Three times that *Kota* had unknowingly ruined everything.
He sighed.
“This is a disaster…”
“Dude, what’s a disaster?”
Yuma snapped his head up—only to see Yoshi smirking at him.
The *cool kid.*
The *last* person he wanted to talk to right now.
“…Nothing.”
Yoshi grinned. “Ohhh, I see. It’s about Ayumi, huh?”
Yuma’s eye twitched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yoshi chuckled. “Man, I feel you. I was gonna talk to her too, but I just saw you striking out three times in a row.”
Yuma scowled. “I wasn’t striking out.”
“Sure.” Yoshi leaned back. “It’s kinda funny, though.”
Yuma glared. “How is this *funny?*”
Yoshi smirked. “Because you’re not even losing to another guy. You’re losing to *Kota.*”
Yuma groaned, burying his face in his hands.
*Kota.*
He was the *real* obstacle here.
And the worst part?
*Kota had no idea.*
YOU ARE READING
THE FIRST TIME DADDY
RomanceMax never imagined his life would turn out like this: a single father raising a lively two-year-old while working at a quiet bookstore. Far from the successful man his wealthy parents hoped he'd become, Max is still finding his footing after years o...
