I Was a Loner Who Tried Finding an Otaku Friend on a Matching App and Ended Up Matching with the Number-One Beauty Who Won the University Miss Contest - Chapter 31-32

Chapter 31: The Miss Contest Queen and Our Super Lovey-Dovey Date ♡ Begins

I got totally fed up (and embarrassed) with all the weird back-and-forth praising with Amane-san, so I basically dragged her along toward the exhibition venue.

“Seriously, Akito-kun, you’re way too shy. It’s not like I’m charging you money for compliments or anything. You could just praise me endlessly forever and it’d be fine.”

“What kinda weird logic is that? Fine, then I’ll start charging YOU.”

“Eek! So greedy!”

Amane-san said that while striking some kinda mysterious Ka●ji pose.

She keeps saying all these random confusing things as usual, but even if I praised her nonstop, I don’t think her self-esteem would go up any higher.

I mean, come on—Amane-san gets showered with compliments just walking around campus every single day. She doesn’t need more at this point, right?

“Sigh… It’s common knowledge that you’re beautiful and cute, Amane-san. You still want even more praise?”

“Beautiful and cute, ehehe.”

“You’re seriously happy just from that!? So easy!”

“Hey! I’m not easy, okay! It just makes me happy when you say it! It’s not like that with just anybody!”

Amane-san blurted it all out super fast.

Wait… not with just anybody?

“Huh? So you’re saying… you’re happy specifically because it’s me saying it…?”

“…Th-that’s… um, anyway, that’s a secret for now.”

“A secret for now—what does that even mean!”

Getting happy from my compliments… yeah, Amane-san really is kinda weird.

“Anyway! We’re going to the exhibition today, but we gotta figure out what comes after too!”

“What comes after?”

“Of course! You called this a date yourself—did you really think it was just the exhibition and done!?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much.”

“Haa!?”

I only said something totally normal, but for some reason she got mad at me.

Why’s Amane-san getting so worked up?

“Jeez, Akito-kun, you just don’t get it. You’re as clueless as someone who puts sauce on fried eggs!”

“I’m totally the sauce-on-fried-eggs type, though.”

“You don’t get it! Fried eggs are supposed to have mustard or Hatcho miso, obviously!”

“What kinda options are those even?”

Amane-san kept talking, completely unaware that she’s actually the most clueless person here.

“It’s a date, so we’re gonna hit up a bunch of places! Cafes, arcades—that’s how it normally goes, right?”

“Why are you asking it like a question when you’re the one saying it!”

“Because the only dates I’ve ever seen are inside rom-com light novels!”

I couldn’t really argue with that since I’m the same way, but the thing is, the protagonists in those rom-com light novels go on dates with the assumption they’re already a couple.

“Anyway, we’re just coming as friends, so we don’t have to do all that lovey-dovey couple stuff. Once we’re done with the main thing, we can just split up.”

“No way! Today I’m gonna teach you exactly what a date is supposed to be like!”

“Huh?”

“First we go to the exhibition and stare at all the super pervy illustrations up close, then we head to a cafe to fill our stomachs with a couple’s lunch, and after that we’re doing a movie and the arcade too! We’re doing everything I wanna do!”

“Isn’t that way too packed for one day!?”

Amane-san’s selfish “date” agenda—with me just tagging along—was about to kick off.

—

Chapter 32: Holding Hands with the Miss Contest Queen While Looking at Super Pervy Stuff

We finally arrived at the Harajuku venue where Umino Umino-sensei’s exhibition was being held, together with Amane-san.

Tucked away quietly among Harajuku’s stylish streets was this short building with plain white walls.
The exhibition space looked kinda like a little artist’s studio, and it was the total opposite of the image you’d expect from Opasui and all those other illustrations inside.

Man, this place has such a fancy vibe… no way I could show up here in a moe T-shirt.

“It’s supposed to be an exhibition of kinda naughty illustrations, but the venue itself looks like some classy Western painter’s gallery, huh?”

“That’s exactly the kinda thing you’re not supposed to actually say out loud!”

Amane-san just blurted out the most innocent kid-like comment, so I panicked a little.
I mean… yeah, she’s not wrong, though.

“We can get signed shikishi at the reception desk, right?”

“Yup! C’mon, Akito-kun, let’s go!”

As soon as she said that, Amane-san naturally grabbed my hand—squeezed it tight—and started pulling me along.

Uh… wait… my hand…

“Ahaha, look at you, Akito-kun—totally freaking out just ’cause we’re holding hands~”

“I-I’m not freaking out!”

“Really? Then let’s keep going like this while we look around.”

“Huh?”

Amane-san said it so casually, her face perfectly calm, and she just kept holding my right hand gently in her left as we walked to the reception desk and picked up signed shikishi—one for each of us.

“Yay, Akito-kun! It’s a signed shikishi with Opasui art on it!”

Forget the signed shikishi—right now all I could think about was our hands!

This was definitely another classic Amane-san “teasing” move.
If that’s how it is, then fine—I’m not backing down.
I can’t just let her tease me every single time without fighting back.

So yeah, Amane-san and I kept holding hands the whole time as we went inside the exhibition.

I tried super hard to act like I wasn’t bothered at all while looking at the illustrations.

B-but man… figures it’d be the Opasui illustrator—literally every single picture has these huge boobs…

Looking at stuff this straight-up pervy and erotic while holding hands with a girl… my palm sweat is getting, like, really bad.

“Hey, Akito-kun…”

“Y-yeah?”

“Every time you see an erotic illustration your hand gets all sweaty again… it’s kinda, like, super lewd in all sorts of ways, so can you stop?”

“You’re the one who grabbed my hand first and you’re saying that!?”

“I mean, I just didn’t know Akito-kun was the type of boy who starts leaking liquid from his hand every time he looks at super pervy illustrations.”

“Heyyy! Don’t call it ‘liquid’! It’s sweat—sweat!”

Standing in front of all those boob illustrations, I was freaking out the whole time in every possible sense.

It was exactly like being a middle-school boy going through puberty.