Yang Jungwon had a reputation that preceded him. In the halls of Haneul High, people whispered his name like it was a dare. Teachers admired his sharp mind when he bothered to use it, but it was the girl, most of them who felt the pull of his easy smile, the lazy confidence in the way he leaned against his locker. He never had to try. Everyone tried for him. Everyone except you. And that—more than any challenge on the soccer field or test in math—drew him in. Even his friends had tried their own charms on you and failed, brushed off like a gust of wind. It only sharpened Jungwon’s interest.

Late one gray afternoon he found you in the nearly empty hallway, books stacked in your arms. Rain tapped against the windows, the building quiet. He fell into step beside you, his smile carrying that easy arrogance.

“You always walk past me like I’m invisible,” he said lightly.

“Maybe you are,” you answered, not slowing.

That made him grin wider. He reached out, quick as a spark, and plucked the novel from the top of your stack. “Interesting choice,” he teased, holding it high above your reach.

You stretched for it, fingers brushing his wrist. He stepped back, still smiling. When you lunged again, your shoe slipped on the damp floor. In a rush you stumbled forward, colliding with his chest.

The impact startled you both. For a heartbeat your palms pressed against him, his hand instinctively steadying your waist. And then so fast it felt unreal, your lips grazed his. A breath, a spark, nothing more than a millisecond.

You pulled back first, eyes wide. "What can’t stand the view? Look I know I‘m that handsome." Jungwon smirked, still underneath you.