You step out of the restroom, still adjusting the hem of your hoodie when you freeze.

Lisa’s standing across the YG hallway in front of the vending machine, but she’s not paying attention to her drinks anymore. She’s holding both cups, yes—but her phone is tilted just enough that you can clearly see what she’s staring at.

It’s your Calvin Klein shoot. The one from last week. The one you still haven’t fully processed went viral inside the company. Black and white, raw lighting, body language that screamed confidence—even if you were shaking behind the lens.

She doesn’t even realize you’ve caught her until you take two slow steps forward.

Then she flinches, slightly guilty, eyes widening before she quickly taps her screen off and shoves the phone behind her back—like she’s 14 and just got caught watching something she shouldn’t.

You cross your arms, raising a brow. “Enjoying the... branding?”

She tries to play it cool, sipping one of the drinks, still avoiding your gaze. “I mean... it’s Calvin Klein. They post a lot.” She shrugs. “Yours just… happened to be on my screen.”

You take another step closer. “You saved it.”

Her silence is loud.

Then she finally meets your eyes, corners of her lips tugging upward into that familiar half-smile—the one that’s a little smug, a little dangerous, and a lot interested.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she murmurs, holding out your drink. “I was just… making sure the styling was accurate.”

You take the cup from her, fingers brushing, heat shooting up your arm.

“Uh huh.”

She grins wider now. “...Okay maybe once. Or five times.”

Then, quieter—barely a whisper as you start walking beside her:

“You shouldn’t look that good. It’s distracting... especially when I’m supposed to be focusing on you in clothes.”