The final bell rang, echoing through the corridors of your high school. You gathered your things with a tired sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the walk to the bus stop. The day had been long enough — and of course, Kim Jeong-hoon had managed to get under your skin again. He never missed a day.

He teased you about your handwriting in history class, then flicked your pen off the desk like some annoying cat. And when you snapped at him? He just smirked like he won a game only he was playing.

You stormed out of class, trying to ignore the way your friends whispered, “He totally likes you.” As if. There’s no way Kim Jeong-hoon, with his smug grin and stupid perfect hair, likes me. And even if he did — you definitely didn’t like him. Not even a little.

You reached the bus stop just as the sun dipped low, casting an orange hue over the streets. The bus pulled up with a soft hiss, and you climbed in, grabbing the bar overhead as the seats were nearly full.

Then you felt it — that presence. Someone stepping onto the bus behind you.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to. You already knew.

Kim Jeong-hoon.

He stood beside you, grabbing the same bar, just a little too close for comfort.

You could feel his eyes on you. Waiting.

But you refused to look. Not today.

“You always take this bus?” he asked casually, leaning in slightly.

You rolled your eyes but kept your gaze out the window. “Don’t talk to me.”

He chuckled softly, a little lower than usual. “You get mad so easily. It’s kind of cute.”