Jisoo looked up from her steaming cup of instant ramen (a.k.a lunch) and found herself face-to-face with a guy whose eyes were barely visible behind a veil of tousled hair.
"Huh?" she replied.
Her voice was quickly drowned out in the cacophony of the campus cafeteria. Had she heard him right?
The string of soggy noodles that hung at the tip of her chopsticks, slipped from her loosened grip. It landed with a dull plop in the hot chicken broth below.
The tousled-haired guy stood in front of the window next to her small table. His tall figure cast a long shadow over her. Annoyed that he was blocking out her source of light and heat in this cold season (the heating system of the cafeteria wasn't exactly doing a good job), Jisoo sat back in her chair and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. Her chopsticks lay forgotten atop her ramen cup.
Now that she took a good look a him, her annoyance was replaced by a mixture of confusion and mild interest. Despite the tousled hair, she could glimpse soft doe eyes holding her gaze steadily.
"Would you...?" he asked, hesitantly this time. His voice was muffled by the ashen-grey mask concealing the lower half of his face.
His confidence from a minute ago had vanished.
"Why?" was Jisoo's reply. "Why should I model for you?"
In her mind floated a vague image of herself with her thick round glasses, messy bun, makeup-less face and all-black attire. She always ensured to look low-profile on campus so as to avoid attracting people's attention.
Therefore, her number of university friends amounted to a glorious zero. The only people she could consider close friends were fellow models, whom she saw maybe once every two weeks.
The guy tugged awkwardly on the plaid, emerald-green scarf wrapped snuggly around his neck. He slid his backpack off his shoulders and approached her table.
"May I?"
Jisoo shrugged.
She imagined him biting his lower lip at her response. Gingerly he placed his bag at the edge of the wooden surface and opened his backpack.
Jisoo's gaze lingered longer than she intended on his long, slim fingers. The guy plunged his hand inside the bag and swiftly pulled out a magazine.
It was the latest release of Vogue.
No way, she thought, apprehension building in the pit of her stomach.
His long fingers leafed through the pages until they reached the middle of the magazine. He turned it in her direction.
And there she was, taking up the entire right-side page.
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