It's been two days since I stopped eating lunch with the three of them. And no, it's not because I was avoiding Ari. Well, partially—but that's not the whole reason.
I'd been held up by one of my professors to finish a business proposal due tomorrow, so I'd been using my lunch breaks to research and piece together that cursed assignment.
That's how I ended up here, tucked away in my favourite secluded spot in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and scattered papers, drowning in work.
You'd think that in a situation like this, peace and quiet would be a given. But no—apparently, that's too much to ask when certain people, or worse, couples, decide the library is the perfect place for their dirty deeds.
Unfortunately, my favourite spot happens to be in a semi-secluded area, so it's not exactly rare for me to overhear... questionable sounds.
Seriously, talk about a complete lack of social decency. Some people just can't seem to keep it in their pants, can they?
Thankfully, today wasn't one of those days. No indecent sounds to scar my sanity.
However, just one bookshelf away, I could hear two people talking—or rather, one person talking incessantly while the other clearly wanted no part of the conversation.
The guy's voice was annoyingly loud, making it nearly impossible for me to focus. His words were persistent, bordering on desperation—"You won't regret choosing me," and, "I really like you. Please go out with me."
Seriously? Whoever this guy was, he sounded completely and utterly desperate.
He kept going for several more minutes, completely oblivious. Seriously, dude couldn't take a hint if it hit him over the head.
I tried to ignore it, I really did, but with an annoying paper looming over me and my patience wearing thinner by the second, I was about to snap. And this guy was edging me closer and closer to the brink.
Finally, I cleared the stack of books in front of me so I could get a look at the scene. The woman had her back to me, but even from here, I could tell she was visibly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, the guy was standing way too close, his persistence crossing the line into downright creepy.
What a desperate loser.
"I don't mean to intrude," I said sharply, making the guy's head snap in my direction, "but could you please keep it down? Some of us are actually trying to study here."
"Just mind your own business," the desperate guy snapped, making me scoff in disbelief.
Oh, he'd done it now.
"I want to," I replied, pausing deliberately for effect, "but all I can hear is your pathetic, desperate attempt to coax someone who clearly doesn't like you."
"What did you just—" he started, his voice rising, but I cut him off.
"If I were you, I'd start by fixing my attitude before even thinking about asking a girl out. Because, dude, this? This is just embarrassing."
For a moment, he froze, and I could see the gears turning in his head. Around us, a few people had stopped to watch the exchange, their expressions making it clear they agreed with me.
Finally, the guy seemed to realise how cringeworthy his actions were, his bravado crumbling under the weight of the attention.
He stood there for a moment, his face flushed with embarrassment, glaring daggers at me.
"I'll see you around, Ari," he muttered to the girl before walking away, his ego in tatters.
Unable to resist, I stuck my tongue out at him as he left—a petty but satisfying mockery. Unfortunately, in my moment of childish triumph, I didn't realise the girl had turned to look in my direction.
And of course, it had to be her.
Of all the places and all the people, why did it have to be Ari Cho? The last thing I wanted was for her to think I fancied being a self-proclaimed knight in shining armour swooping in to save her from these kinds of situations. Because I wasn't. Not intentionally, anyway.
With an amused smile, she said, "You looked pretty cute poking your little head out like that."
I scoffed, genuinely floored by her comment. "You're welcome, by the way," I replied flatly, quickly stacking my books back up like a fortress, a clear signal that I had zero intention of continuing the conversation.