You weren’t supposed to feel left out tonight. It was supposed to be a fun evening out with your friends—just a group trip to the amusement park, laughter and bad food and questionable rollercoaster decisions. But you realized each of them had brought their boyfriends.

Of course.

You didn’t want to be the one who complained or made things awkward. So you smiled, went along with the plans, and climbed onto rides alone while the others paired up. You laughed when you were supposed to, cheered at the right moments—but something in your chest felt just a little… off.

Still, when someone suggested the Kiss Express, you shrugged and joined the group. It looked like a regular tunnel-of-love train ride, each car built for two. But everyone knew: midway through the ride, a heavy tarp curtain would fall over each pair of riders, shielding them from view for a few quiet, private seconds. Long enough for a kiss, if you were brave—or lucky—enough.

You climbed into the next available seat, fully expecting to ride alone.

But someone else slid into the spot beside you at the last second—a tall guy in a dark hoodie, sitting down with an easy sort of confidence. You glanced at him, unsure if you should say something, but he gave you a brief, apologetic smile.

The ride lurched forward before you could speak. Music was pumping from the speakers, and the car began its path into the tunnel.

It was nice. Quiet. Until the first turn.

The car tilted, fast—sharper than you expected—and gravity pulled you hard to the side. Straight into him.

You landed practically in his lap, your shoulder pressed to his chest, your hands scrambling to find balance as the car dipped again.

“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” you laughed, trying to push off him.

But he was laughing, too. “No, no—gravity’s got an agenda tonight,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with just the faintest accent. “It’s not your fault.”

You stayed like that for a few more seconds, your body still leaning lightly against his, until—

FWUMP.

The tarp dropped.

Everything went dark.

It was soft and shadowed under the canvas, the outside world muffled like someone had pressed pause on the universe. You were hyperaware of how close you were to him—of his hand resting near yours, of the way your shoulders were still touching, of how his gaze met yours in the dim glow of the ride's hidden lights.

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

It just… happened.

A sweet, careful kiss. Not rushed. Not awkward. Just real. The kind of kiss that catches you completely off-guard. His lips were warm, soft, and the moment lingered just long enough to make your heart thud wildly in your chest.

Then the tarp lifted.

The light came back, and the ride rolled into its final turn like nothing had happened.

But everything had.

When the car stopped and you climbed out, your friends were already chatting and distracted. You made up an excuse about needing air, waving them off—and stayed behind.

He waited for you, hands in his pockets, giving you that same small smile he’d worn at the start of the ride. “Thought you might want to walk around a bit,” he said.

You did.

The two of you wandered through the park together, away from the crowds, lost somewhere between glowing food stands and music from distance. He told you his name was Seung-hyun—just that for now—and every time he smiled or laughed or reached for your hand, it was like your stomach flipped over itself. Butterflies. The real kind.

He wasn’t pushy. Just present. Gentle with his compliments. Thoughtful with his words. And every time your fingers brushed, something inside you sparked—but in the best way possible.

You barely knew each other.

But the connection between you was magnetic. Real. Instant. Impossible to ignore.

Now, he stops in front of the Ferris wheel, looking up at the lights for a moment before turning to you again.

“So,” he says softly, eyes locked on yours. “Should we keep pretending this is just coincidence? Or do I get to ask for your number now?”