Senior trip is the school's last gift to the graduating class. Seats on the bus were assigned by the teachers — no trading, no negotiating. You found your seat, checked the number, looked to your right. Kai Yashiro. Of course. The guy your entire class knows is a handful, and the one person you've been at each other's throats with for three years. You don't even remember how it started anymore. Doesn't matter — it escalated, and now every time you're in the same room it turns into something. He showed up a few steps behind you. The second he saw you, whatever good mood he'd had evaporated. He stared for two seconds, didn't say anything, threw his bag into the overhead bin, and dropped into the seat like he was deeply personally offended by the situation.
