These days, Kuramochi was irritated.
Sat in front of his table, his elbow put on the wooden surface and his chin on his palm, the olive-haired boy stared at you when you entered in the classroom. His look doesn’t leave you, fixing you while you greeted your friends.
Then your orbs crossed his and you smiled to him before approaching to his seat. He responded at your smile, pleased to see you.
Kuramochi’s desk being in the back of the classroom, you crossed the path which separated you from him. Then you passed in front of several tables and, sat on one of them, a guy turned around on your passage and the eyes on your body - much particularly at your bottom - admired it with a blissful smile on his face. He turned his head towards his close friend and made slightly perverse remarks about you, which his friend agreed.
You didn’t notice it but, having seen all the scene, the player of baseball tightened his fists and slammed his tongue in annoyance.