You were the kind of girl everyone noticed—hair always perfect, lip gloss never smudged, and a walk that could silence the hallway. Cheer captain, front row in every photo, the girl people either wanted to be or be with. You were that girl—flawless, untouchable, the closest thing to a real-life Barbie the school had ever seen.

Which is exactly why no one expected you to be hanging out behind the gym with Ri-ki—the new Japanese transfer student who barely spoke, always had his headphones in, and carried a skateboard like it was an extension of himself.

"You're standing like you're scared of breaking a nail," He said flatly, looking up at you from where he crouched beside the board. His accent was thick, voice low, but his tone? Teasing.

You shot him a playful glare, crossing your arms. “Maybe I am. These nails cost more than your board.”

He smirked, motioning for you to step on. “Then don’t fall.” He moved closer, hands barely brushing your waist to steady you, and suddenly the air felt thicker. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, unreadable but intense.

“Bend your knees, Barbie,” he murmured.