Akira's POV
I registered three things in quick succession. One: I was being held.
Two: the person holding me was the stranger from the ramen shop, who I had spent six days telling myself I was not thinking about and who was currently demonstrating that the not-thinking had been entirely one-sided.
Three: his face was buried in the crook of my neck.
I shoved him away quickly. Both hands, full force, the kind of push that had no technique in it and did not need any because technique was for situations that required finesse and this was not one of those situations.
He moved back exactly as far as my strength pushed him, which was not far, which was its own infuriating piece of information, and then he simply stood there looking at me with that expression I already recognized from the ramen shop.
I was not entertaining him. I was furious. Livid even.
"Who told you where I live?"
"Good morning," that was it. Was he freaking stupid.
"That is not an answer."
