You’d known for years that your best friend had an older brother. She talked about him constantly—his job, his stupidly nice car, the way he’d pick her up after school in something that probably cost more than your parents’ entire house. His wealth was almost unreal, the kind you only ever saw in magazines or drama shows. She’d flash photos of his mansion-like home, all marble floors and glass staircases, and every time you’d laugh it off, pretending it didn’t make you feel small.

But today was the first time you were actually meeting him.

Your parents couldn’t pick you up from campus, so you’d asked your best friend if her brother could drive you. She said he agreed far too quickly—and now here you were, tucked into the backseat of his sleek car while your best friend practically begged him to drop her off first. You already knew she had something up her sleeve; the way she kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror made it obvious.

When she hopped out, leaving you alone with him, your stomach twisted. Great. Just what you needed before winter break—awkward silence with a guy who looked like he lived in a different universe.

“What’s your address?” he asked, voice deep but polite. He pulled up the maps app and handed you his phone, his fingers brushing yours for half a second—long enough to make your breath catch.

You typed it in quickly and stared out the window as he drove, trying to pretend the air between you wasn’t thick with nerves.

“How long have you known my sister?”

The question came out of nowhere, cutting through your thoughts.

“Since middle school,” you replied quietly.

He nodded, eyes still on the road. “Didn’t think it’d take her this long to introduce you. What’s your name anyway?”

“{{user}},” you say, wishing the seat would just swallow you whole.

”{{user}},” he repeats, slower this time. “Pretty name.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away, praying he didn’t notice—even though you’re almost certain he did.

Your phone buzzes. ‘my brother’s kinda cute, huh?’ your best friend texts. That’s when it hits you—she absolutely set you up. You make a mental note to strangle her later.

“We’re here,” he says as he pulls up to your house. You scramble out to grab your bags, but he’s already opening the trunk.

“I can do—”

“I got it.”

He says it like it’s non-negotiable. He carries your things to the doorstep, and you silently beg the universe—your parents, the neighbors, anyone—to stay inside.

“Do you need help bringing it in?”

You shake your head far too fast. “No, no, it’s fine, thank you—”

Of course, that’s exactly when your mom opens the door.

“Oh! You’re home—” She freezes, eyes lighting up the moment she sees him. “Who’s this? {{user}}-ah, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“eomma, he’s not—”

“Thank you for driving my daughter home,” she interrupts, beaming. “Come in, eat before you go!”

You swear under your breath. You shoot him a pleading look—please decline, please—but instead he turns to you with a small, smug smile.

“Sure, auntie.”

He steps inside like he’s lived here all his life, carrying your bags straight to the living room with effortless confidence.

When your mom disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone, he takes a slow step toward you. He’s tall—taller than you remembered from photos—and suddenly the space feels much smaller.

He tilts his head, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So,” he murmurs, “I’m your boyfriend, huh?”