I passed my gaze over the red vinyl booths lining the interior of the café. It was a plush red, like scarlet lipstick screaming scandal in 50s Americana on a blonde bombshell. Pity I wasn’t blonde.

Looking past the petite design, over the classily dappled walls, I surveyed my familiar surroundings idly – finally resting on the loudest target in the room. Two seats down, there was a bunch of boys preying on a bunch of pretty albeit shallow girls. The willing victims looked old with their heavy make-up and mature clothing styles but I guessed they possibly couldn’t be past first year – maybe even high school. The guys were standing like vultures leant against the table; their fashion implied that they were from the arts department and I dallied no further, not wanting to be caught staring at their flamboyance. The middle girl was twirling a lock of orange-dyed hair around her finger and I thought it reflected perfectly of the situation she was in herself – wrapped around the guys’ little finger.

I sighed heavily and poured my tea into the teacup provided and began to mix in my milk and sugar. It was a delicate process, I thought and being the pedantic I am, every stir had to be impeccable. I tried to ignore the noise they were making and continued with what I had originally come here to do: finish my thesis on genetic inheritance. With one hand mixing, the other was occupied with flipping through my notebook which also doubled as a diary and I skimmed through the various dates, summaries and sketches I had drawn in my lectures.

There really was no point in trying to finish my work now that I wasn’t in the right mindset. I always come here after lectures once every week – usually a Thursday to revise the work, complete homework and polish off my assessment but today, with them around, I really couldn’t concentrate. There was a slight frustration pent up in my fingers flipping the loose pages, past and past till I reached the end of the book. I sipped at the tea and looked out of the window to ease my mind but even the clouds couldn’t clear my thoughts. There was no point in staying, I was better off at home. My paper was due in less than a week and that note ignited a little fire in my chest that procrastinating only fanned.

I looked over to the sociable mingling and frowned. Instead of standing and hovering around the table like they were last time, the boys had made themselves comfortable by also settling into a red booth down next to the flurry of superficial girls. I couldn’t help but glare, almost childishly at them for somewhat ruining my productivity and as if it were lightening, one of the boy’s head snapped back to look at me straight in the eye.

I had been staring at the back of his cap but upon meeting his curious ebony spheres, my expression softened and I no longer grimaced. My eyebrows however, furrowed together as I reached subconsciously for my bag, ready to leave. He had a gentle look, sort of endearing like a family pet but his chiselled jaw overtly claimed his interactions with women an as an expertise. Unable to rip my gaze from his as he gave me his full and undivided attention, I couldn’t help but return it. He cocked his head a little, a smirk beginning to form whilst his friends continued talking past him, the one to his left catching the staring contest and looking towards me too. The girls’ didn’t seem happy about that.

In the exchange it was as if he was asking me why I was staring, challenging me to answer his question. I passed it off as nothing more than a stranger’s curiosity and only felt more urgent in my need to leave. Mum would be surprised to see me home so soon because she’d always remembered how I liked routine but surprising her was the last thing to worry about.

I left my half-finished tea on the table in regretful neglect and felt around blindly for my book to tuck it into my bag. In one swift movement, I stood up and straightened my shirt, brushing my hair out and over my shoulder. After finally tearing my eyes from his, I looked away in indignation, in chagrin and walked quickly out of the café. And to think that I was going to get work done today. Plan: ruined.

“Oi Taeyang, what was that? That chick just gave you a really dirty look. What did you ever do to her?” Daesung raised his eyebrows and muttered in defence. His friend in question just smiled, eyes upturning at the corner to form his iconic eye-smile which all the girls fawned over.

He remained turned, looking at where the girl was last. He’d seen her around campus a few times, head buried into a book and walking with perfect posture even though reading mediated a slight slouch of the shoulders. She was very sure of herself and he felt immediately pulled in, like the working of a gravitational force.

“Wasn’t dirty enough,” he laughed and Daesung scoffed. Seungri who sat on the other side of them shot the bantering two a questioning look and the girls pouted at the loss of attention.

“So, what’d you end up deciding to get?” Jiyoung looked across the table, eyeing the two off whilst Seunghyun dropped his menu onto the table.

“I just want Oppa~ Anything you choose would be fine for me.” The girl giggled and Jiyoung paused awkwardly at the over-load of aegyo and tried to supress his look of ‘I-didn’t-ask-you’. He knew it was a bad idea to sit with these girls from the start – if only Daesung hadn’t smiled at them so invitingly.

Without so much as a response, Taeyang stood up and shuffled over Seungri to get out of the booth. Everyone watched his every move but he just kept his smile plastered on, like it was a secret only he knew. He had noticed the flash of paper stuck in the folds of a most particular notebook – a white bound black printed notebook. “You guys keep ordering, I’ll be back,” he gestured, flashing another smile to the puzzled group and he slunked over to the displaced item, picking it up and feeling it in his hands. The girl must’ve missed the opening when she had tried to put it in her bag. He laughed at how cute the mistake seemed; he liked the idea that she had been too absorbed in staring at him to do things properly and it made him all the more eager to find her that second and return it to her himself.

He felt the weight of it in his hands and opened the pages, flicking through the idiosyncratic pen-marks, notes and pictures as if he was experiencing your life from the sidelines.

“Taeyang,” Jiyoung yelled from his seat, slightly irritated as he made a face. “We ordered a lemonade for you… you don’t like sweet things right?”

He sauntered back, attention still caught within the pages as he nodded lazily twice. “Sure, sure” he said, as the others looked on, trying to ignore to odd antics.

“Sooo…” Seungri trailed, then catching sight of the ordering display in the café and the pastries and baked goods they had, he tested, “you guys like cake?”