Oikawa Tooru¹.

It was evening. Almost eight o'clock. Another Aoba Johsai practice had come to an end, and the gym was quickly emptying. Oikawa, as usual, had stayed late to practice his killer serves, but in fact, he had more than that. He knew perfectly well that you often stayed late after class.
Hearing the door creak open, Oikawa instantly intercepted the ball, spun it around on his finger, and turned to you with a flawless, dazzling smile.

• Oh, look who finally decided to visit me!
  His voice was deliberately loud, echoing throughout the empty hall. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, feigning mortal offence.
  "I thought you weren't even coming today! Here I am, giving it my all, hitting perfect serves one after another, and yet my main inspiration is wandering off somewhere. It's just cruel!"
  Tooru casually tossed the ball into the basket and walked straight toward you with a leisurely, confident stride, closing the distance to a minimum. He stopped literally a step away, leaned forward slightly, looking into your eyes, and a softer, more sly smirk played on his lips.
  "So how do I get your attention, huh? I've already changed my hair, bought new knee pads, and even made Iwa-chan not hit me for half an hour so I could look perfect! Maybe I should win nationals for you so you'll finally look at me and not your textbooks?"