Too Shy to Be True

-3-

What are you doing, y/n? You ask yourself.

You're getting ready for school, taking a ridiculous amount of time to decide on an outfit. Something that isn't usually a problem; you always pick out the perfect ensemble on your first try. But today...

I mean, it shouldn't matter how I look, you reason. It's not like this is a date.

But it sure as hell feels like it.

***********************************************

"Hey."

Jeongin turns around. "Hi."

Needless to say, you're in the auditorium, which you avoided at lunch. The day passed by in a blur, your mind focused on this. This hour and a half that you have alone with him.

"Is everything alright?"

You tilt your head a bit. "Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

He slings his bag over one shoulder. "Just... you weren't here at lunch. I thought you might be avoiding me. I didn't mean to ruin your lunch spot. Although, to be fair, I've been hiding out here since my first year."

You shake your head, hoping he won't see the truth. "No, I had some work to do."

"You could've done it here," he points out.

You curse him for countering your argument. "I had to meet with a teacher, Yang."

He blushes slightly at the use of his last name. Even you have to admit that it sounds— and feels— like a slightly intimate thing to do.

He clears his throat imperceptibly. "I have my notes. I, uh, I wasn't really sure what else to bring."

You wave your hand through his words. "That's fine. I actually was meeting with your teacher," you lie. You met with his teacher last week. "I was asking her for key points on the test, so we know what to focus on."

His mouth falls open slightly. "You... you did that for me?"

"I did that for me," you reply, plopping down in a seat right in front of the stage. "You just got lucky." True, if you know what to focus on, it does benefit you, but you don't want him to fail. So this time, you were the lucky one.

He sits next to you. "Okay. I get it; I'm not the Chosen One." He unzips his bag. "Here," he says, pulling out a plastic container. "My... my, um..." he falters. "Uh, I brought these."

"Oh." You take the large container, cracking it open and catching whiff of brownies. "Wow, that is a lot of brownies."

"Made from scratch," he says, with a hint of pride as he takes out a pencil. But it doesn't sound like self-pride. It's pride for someone else. You can't help but wonder what he was originally going to say, who actually made these.

"Are you trying to butter me up?" You ask teasingly.

He pauses, his binder half open. "No. Why would I? It's just... however long we'll be here, I thought we might get hungry?"

"Well, good thing I had similar thoughts," you say, bringing the paper bag you had brought with you around to your feet. "Knock yourself out." You refrain from mentioning that you made his favorite scones, feeling so proud of yourself. "Okay." You pull out the folder full of material that his physics teacher, Professor Chen, gave you. "Apparently, she's required to give you a bunch of bs lessons, and keeps the key points of the course for reviewing and studying. So, if we follow this, you should be fine."

He nods. "Yeah. I kinda figured she was giving us stuff we didn't need. She always seemed to put a heavy emphasis on some lessons, and barely even skim others." He bites into a chocolate croissant. "This is good."