Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball-Chapter 226: Disguises and Bad Decisions

A few minutes later, Aiko took a deep breath, squared her shoulders like she was bracing for impact, and stepped out.

Paz, who’d been dead silent at the counter for the last ten minutes, probably pretending to scroll on his phone but actually just staring at the same meme, let out a low, impressed whistle.

Aiko’s face was already burning hotter than a summer sidewalk, but she forced her chin up. Hands on her hips, like she was posing for a magazine cover.

The stance pushed her chest forward just a little, on purpose, though she’d rather die than admit it.

The outfit was... not subtle. At all. A high black crop top stretched thin across her chest, ending just under her ribs and leaving a wide strip of pale stomach exposed. An open tactical jacket hung loose and unzipped like it was barely there, more for show than function. Matte-black leggings so tight they looked painted on, hugging every curve of thigh and calf. A thin choker circled her throat like a collar. Hood half-up, red twintails spilling out.

Honestly? It looked less like spy outfit and more like something you’d wear to... well, something like a bdsm play. The violet mall lights made her pale skin glow against the black, turning the whole thing into a stark, almost obscene contrast.

"Well?" Her voice cracked like a teenager’s. "Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Say something, moron."

Nash had been leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t paying attention. The second he looked up, he froze.

Then, super slowly, like a predator sizing up prey, he pushed off the wall. Pocketed the phone without looking. Took one step. Another. Stopped way too close.

He crossed his arms. Brought one hand up to rub slowly at his chin, eyes never leaving her. He took a long gaze at her: throat → collarbones → open jacket → high crop top → bare stomach → leggings clinging to her thighs → back up.

When his gaze reached her chest again, it lingered. At first, it was just the way the thin black cotton stretched over her curves. Then, subtly, she shifted her weight, pushed her shoulders back a tiny bit more, as if she wanted him to see something.

The fabric pulled taut. The soft swell beneath became too visible, and there, faint but clear in the violet light, the outline of her nipples pressing against the material.

Holy shit. She actually took off her bra. There was nothing between the thin top and her bare skin.

Nash noticed, of course he noticed. Just what the fuck was wrong with this girl? Going from being ridiculously heavy to... this? When did she think it was a great idea? If Paz were a trustworthy person, she would surely react badly to that.

Aiko felt the exact second he realized she had taken her bra off. It wasn’t a little heat anymore, but an explosion across her body, cheeks blazing scarlet, flush racing down her neck, tinting her ears and even the bridge of her nose pink.

Her lips parted on a shaky breath, glossy and swollen from earlier biting.

She swallowed. Voice small, suddenly nervous.

"...W-What? You don’t like this one?"

She shifted again, arms twitching like she wanted to cross them, cover herself, finally conscious of how exposed she was, but she forced them to stay at her sides.

The motion only made the crop top pull tighter.

"I—I mean, it’s practical, right? Stealthy. Or... whatever. If it’s bad just say it. I can change..."

Nash let out a quiet exhale, almost a laugh, but softer. His hand dropped from his chin.

"This one..." His voice came out lower. "...fits you. Really well."

Aiko blinked. She’d braced for teasing, for a smirk, for something cocky. Not... this. Simple. Honest. Approving.

Her heart stuttered.

He... likes it? Just like that? That’s all?

But then, he reached out slowly. Aiko’s brain panicked instantly.

He’s... going to touch me! He’s actually going to... oh god oh god—

His finger hooked under the open collar of her jacket. Tugged it closed just an inch. Then smoothed the lapel with his knuckles, brushing the bare skin at her collarbone, light enough to make her shiver.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly. "But dangerous."

Aiko’s heart literally skipped. The words ripped straight through her tough-girl mask. She tried to recover, tilted her chin higher, pushed her chest out a tiny bit more, still pretending it was attitude.

"Obviously," she managed. "I picked it, didn’t I?"

But her voice shook. Her face burned hotter, visible crimson everywhere.

Nash’s eyes flicked down once more, to how the crop top clung, to the subtle press of her bare chest against fabric, then back to her face.

Aiko noticed the shift in his expression. The teasing edge softened. He stepped half a step closer.

"Aiko. I know you better than you know yourself, and I know what game you’re trying to play, so let’s be clear: I’m a guy. Not some perfect gentleman. Keep playing this game, keep pushing like this, and you’re gonna get exactly what you’re asking for."

His thumb brushed the edge of the crop top, barely touching bare stomach skin.

Her brain blue-screened.

She panicked so hard she almost swayed. She’d wanted to tease him, push him, see how far she could go. But she’d forgotten who she was teasing.

This was Nash. The guy who’d torn through their entire team without breaking a sweat. The guy who’d left Miko unavailable for a whole day. The guy who massacred Hina to the point she got both scared and aroused by him.

If he got ticked the wrong way, if she showed the meat so much under his nose, he wouldn’t freak out or be shy. He would bite the whole thing.

She swallowed. Tried to snap something sharp, but failed.

Instead, voice barely above a whisper, cracked.

"...Then... do it."

The words slipped out, maybe her most honest words in a long time.

Nash froze.

For one long second, nobody moved.

Aiko stood there, redder than her hair, chest rising and falling fast, forgetting how to breathe.

Sure, back in the locker room, he hadn’t actually done the whole thing with her. Even though she’d been way more forward than Rei ever was. He could have. He hadn’t.

But now?

Now she was waving a giant neon "GO" sign in his face.

Just him.

Just her.

No interruptions.

No stopping.

Meanwhile, behind the counter, Paz, who had snapped a quick photo of Nash leaning against the wall earlier and sent it to her group chat, was chuckling.

[La Paz]: [photo] look at this shit that just walked in

[Mika Reina]: holy shit who is he

[La Paz]: dunno but I’d let him ruin my ass anytime

[Rin Job]: respectfully I need him to rail me until I forget my bf

[La Paz]: same. girlfriend’s trying on clothes like it’s a strip tease and he’s just eating it up. lucky bitch

[Mika]: tell her to share bitch

[La Paz]: lol she’d bite my head off. bitch barks like a chiwawa

Paz pocketed her phone, sighing dramatically as she finally looked up.

"You two done yet?" she drawled. "I can close the shop right now and rent you the nearest love motel instead."

Aiko made a strangled squeak and bolted back into the stall, the curtain rattling violently.

Nash exhaled, half-laugh, half-resignation, and walked to the counter. Now was not the time for such a thing.

Aiko emerged a minute later wearing her original clothes again.

Her face? Total disaster zone. Her cheeks were so red they looked painful, her ears were practically glowing, and even the bridge of her nose had turned pink.

She kept pulling at the hem of her hoodie like she suddenly regretted how much skin it showed, crossing her arms tight over her chest like she could hide what she’d just been proudly showing off moments ago.

She stomped up to the counter, clutching the new black outfit like it had personally wronged her, her usually bouncy twintails hanging limp like even her hair was embarrassed for her.

"I’m... I’m taking this one," she mumbled, so quiet you could barely hear her. Her free hand dug into her pocket for her credit card, fumbling around so badly she almost dropped it twice before finally slamming it down on the counter.

Meanwhile, Nash already had his card out like he’d seen this coming from a mile away. He slid it across the reader without even looking at her, totally calm, like he was just buying a cup of coffee instead of some weird ninja outfit.

"Alright," he said. "I’ll pay for it."

Aiko’s head jerked up so fast you could almost hear her neck crack.

"W-what? No! I said—"

The reader beeped, approved.

She stared at the machine like it had just called her mom fat. Then at Nash. Then back at the machine. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"You—! I was going to—! Why do you always do that?! I’m not some charity case! I can pay for my own stupid outfit!"

Nash just pocketed his card, took the bag from Paz, and turned to hand it to her with this soft, amused look.

"You followed me into this. My idea, my call. The one who starts the dumb idea assumes responsibility." He pressed the bag into her hands, his fingers brushing against hers for just a second longer than necessary. "So smile and take the clothes, Aiko-chan."

She froze. The bag felt weirdly heavy, warm from his grip, somehow. Her cheeks puffed out like an angry hamster, eyes darting everywhere except his face.

She snatched the bag fully, hugging it tight against her chest like a shield, arms wrapping around it so hard the plastic crinkled loudly.

"Fine," she muttered, barely audible. "Whatever. Jerk."

Paz leaned on the counter, black nails tapping idly.

"You two look ready for a bit of nooky. But little advice, handsome. Girls like her... really like it rough. Don’t be a gentleman, k’?"

Aiko’s bag hit the floor.

"W-WHAT?! Excuse me?! I do NOT! That’s not... You don’t even know me! Shut your stupid pierced mouth!"

Paz just raised one pierced brow.

"Sure, twintails. Whatever you say."

Nash coughed once, fighting a laugh, then bent to pick up the dropped bag and slung it over his shoulder. He gave Aiko a light nudge toward the exit.

"Come on. Before she starts giving demonstrations."

Aiko stormed ahead, muttering a nonstop stream of denials. But she didn’t walk far ahead. After a few steps, she slowed until their shoulders brushed again, closer than before.

They stepped out into the cold air, the violet lights dimming further toward their usual artificial night.

Pier 9 waited ahead, rusted cranes, black water, and maybe, just maybe, the solution to Nash’s problems.