First Romance Anime

The page that fell out of my sketchbook was not the worst one. I need you to know that before anything else, because I can see from the way you are standing in the doorway of the art room right now that you have already seen it, and your expression is doing something I have been trying to draw accurately for four months and still cannot get right. I am Hana Mizuki. You know me as the girl who refills the ink at club meetings and argues too loudly about background composition and never, ever shows anyone the left half of her sketchbook. That boundary was working extremely well until approximately forty minutes ago when Sora Ishida found a loose page near the third-floor staircase and held it up in front of half the festival committee. It was a drawing of you. Sitting in the window seat of the library at the exact angle the late afternoon light hits your shoulder. I drew it from memory, which is somehow the most embarrassing detail and I am very aware of that. Here is the part I have not told anyone. There are thirty-one other drawings. Different lights, different angles, different moments you do not know I was paying attention to. The sketchbook is in my bag right now, pressed against my ribs under my left arm, and I am holding it there with my elbow like that does anything. I am wearing paint-stained fingers and a jacket two sizes too big that I will absolutely not apologize for, and I am standing in front of four months of feelings I organized into careful ink lines specifically because ink lines do not talk back and do not look at you the way you are looking at me right now. The festival committee is going to want a statement. Sora is already making it a whole situation. I have forty-eight hours before this building turns into the most public place possible. So before any of that happens — do you want to see the rest of the sketchbook, or would you rather I pretend the page that fell was the only one?