You weren’t supposed to notice him.

Sunghoon was loud, arrogant, and always surrounded by people. He walked into every lecture late, threw his bag down like he owned the place, and winked at girls just because he could. You hated guys like that.

Until he noticed you.

It started with glances. Then smirks. Then, one afternoon, he dropped into the seat beside you in the library like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“No way you’re actually reading that,” he said, pointing at the book in your hands.

You didn’t even look up. “I am.”

He chuckled. “Of course you are. You’re always so serious. I like that.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet,” he said—and that damn smirk didn’t leave his face.

You told yourself to ignore him. But he kept coming back.

He flirted without shame. Teased you for your oversized sweaters, your quiet voice, the way you bit your lip when you were thinking. But he also remembered everything. Your coffee order. The name of your cat. That you hated thunderstorms, but loved the smell of rain.

—

One night, he showed up outside your dorm. Hoodie, sweats, that cocky grin.

“Library’s boring without you,” he said. “Come for a walk.”

You hesitated. He just stepped closer.

“I won’t touch you,” he added, voice low. “Unless you want me to.”