Mingi was the kind of guy people whispered about in the halls. Tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly confident, he carried an aura that made everyone take notice—even if they tried not to. And you? You were…not that. Glasses slipping down your nose, notebooks tucked under your arm, hair a little messy from staying up all night studying…basically, the definition of “nerd.” Somehow, though, Mingi always noticed you.

It started small—passing glances in the hallway, a smirk when you stumbled over words in class, a protective hand brushing yours when someone got too close. You told yourself it was coincidence, that maybe he just had a flair for teasing. But when he actually sat next to you in the library, sliding a pencil across the table with a grin, it was hard to ignore that maybe he was…interested.

“Seriously?” He said, leaning over your shoulder to peek at your notes. “You’ve been calculating the trajectory of a catapult for twenty minutes?”