The days that followed settled into a strange rhythm. Our fake relationship became the talk of the school. The whispers didn't stop, but they changed. From "Is that Yamato-san and... Tanaka?" they became "Wow, Yamato-san and Tanaka are really a couple!" or "Did you see Yamato and Tanaka holding hands by the gate?" My anonymity was well and truly dead.
This buzz seemed to be having the desired effect on the Classic Literature & Film Society's profile. More students were pointing at our clubroom when they passed by, some even peering inside. Mr. Yoshida seemed oblivious, still perfecting his napping technique, but the two first-years who thought we were the Classic Rock club were now wide-eyed and asking questions like, "Is it true, Tanaka-senpai? Are you dating Yamato-senpai? Does that mean we're famous now?" Kenji, of course, was acting like my self-appointed public relations manager, basking in the reflected glory. Yuki Nakamura remained mostly silent, occasionally offering a deadpan comment about the 'sociological implications of manufactured celebrity.'
With the deadline for the School Spirit Project Contest approaching, our focus shifted back to the actual club activity that was supposed to justify all this public spectacle. We needed to decide on and start working on our contest entry.
Sakura-san took charge, naturally. We agreed to meet in the clubroom after school, just the two of us (and probably Mr. Yoshida, napping), to brainstorm ideas for the "Love Stories in Classic Film and Literature" presentation.
Sitting alone with Sakura-san in the quiet clubroom after everyone else had left felt different. There were no crowds watching, no need to perform. It was just... us. And the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sunbeams.
"Okay, Tanaka-kun," she began, spreading out some paper and pulling out her notebook. "Project planning time. We need a clear concept, a script, and something engaging for the presentation. What kind of love stories do you think would work best? Tragic? Romantic? Funny?"
We talked about classic films like Roman Holiday and Casablanca, comparing them to literary works like Romeo and Juliet or Pride and Prejudice. It was easy to talk to her about this. She was genuinely interested, despite her earlier claim of only having a 'quiet interest' in classic literature. She had surprisingly insightful observations and suggestions.
"What about a 'types of love' theme?" I suggested. "Like, forbidden love in Romeo and Juliet, sacrificed love in Casablanca, evolving love in Pride and Prejudice... and maybe... unexpected love?" I added, glancing at her.
She caught my gaze, and a faint blush touched her cheeks. "Unexpected love," she repeated softly. "Yes, that could work. It's... fitting."
My heart did that little skip again. It was becoming a regular occurrence around her.
As we discussed different stories, I leaned over the table to point at a passage in a book. Sakura-san leaned in too, looking at the page. For a moment, we were very close. I could see the details of her eyelashes, the curve of her cheek, the way her hair smelled faintly of something clean and fresh.
It was an accidental closeness, completely unscripted. My breath hitched slightly. She didn't seem to notice, her focus entirely on the text.
"Right here," I said, my voice a little thicker than usual. "The description of their first meeting..."
She read the passage, then looked up, her face close to mine. "Yes, that's good! We can use this description for the 'evolving love' section."
Our eyes met. And in that quiet moment, surrounded by old books and dust motes, the line between pretending and something else felt incredibly thin. There was no audience, no need to act. It was just us, sharing a quiet moment, leaning over a book.
The moment stretched, held in the still air of the clubroom. Her eyes were wide and clear. My heart was hammering.
Then, the door creaked open.
"Hiroshi? You guys still here?"
It was Aiko. She poked her head in, looking surprised to see us so... close.
Sakura-san and I immediately straightened up, putting a more respectable distance between us. My face felt hot. Sakura-san looked perfectly composed again, though perhaps a tiny bit flustered around the edges.
"Aiko-san," Sakura-san greeted her smoothly. "Yes, we were just working on the contest project."
Aiko stepped inside, her eyes flicking between me and Sakura-san. That look of curiosity and slight suspicion was back. "Oh, the project. Right. Kenji told me you guys were meeting. Just... wanted to see how it was going."
She walked over, looking at the papers spread on the table. "Love Stories in Classic Film and Literature? Sounds... educational." Her tone was neutral, but her eyes were still asking questions.
"We're incorporating an 'unexpected love' section," I said, trying to sound casual, ignoring the memory of the accidental closeness just moments before.
Aiko glanced at me, then at Sakura-san. A knowing look flashed in her eyes, quickly masked. She seemed to understand the potential double meaning, even if she didn't know the whole truth.
"Unexpected love, huh?" she said softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Hope you guys find a good example for that."
Sakura-san gave a small, polite smile in return. "We think we might have a few ideas already."
Aiko stayed for a little while, making small talk, occasionally casting curious glances our way. Her presence shifted the dynamic. The quiet intimacy of working alone was gone, replaced by the low hum of Aiko's unspoken questions and observations. It was a reminder that even our 'private' moments might not be entirely private from those who knew us best.
After Aiko left, promising to maybe help with the project later, the quiet returned. But the atmosphere had changed. The accidental closeness, Aiko's knowing look... it all added layers of complexity.
"Aiko-san is... observant," Sakura-san commented, starting to pack up the papers.
"Yeah," I agreed. "She sees more than she lets on."
"Just like you, Tanaka-kun," Sakura-san said softly, looking at me. "You notice things too."
My heart did that thing again.
We finished packing up the project notes. The idea of 'unexpected love' felt less like a concept for the presentation and more like a description of the bizarre, confusing, and increasingly not-entirely-fake situation I found myself in.
As we left the clubroom, locking the door behind us, I couldn't shake the feeling that our little performance was starting to have some very unexpected, and perhaps very real, consequences.