Before stepping into homeroom, I stopped infront of the door, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and pulled at the hem of my Theory cardigan until the cashmere fabric was taut.  

    Then, switching on what I hoped was a glamorous grin, I walked in, shoulders squared, back straight.  Immediately, the loose network of minorities seemed to snap out of a daze.  Most of them turned to my direction (out of jealousy or thoughts of remorse, I could never tell) and some of them just averted their gaze downward. 

    “Forgot to text me last night,” a voice piped in from the side.  I walked down the aisle to my desk, where I sat next to Hara near the front.  The voice, was from none other than Nam Woohyun, my sole guy friend.  He was in the circle of high school royalty.  The day he talked our sixth grade Social Studies teacher, we instantly clicked.  He was the captain of our school’s varsity soccer team and the student council treasurer.  Woohyun wasn’t a total tenner, but he was cute.  But such a flirt.  

    “Forgot I had more important things to worry about,” I countered half-jokingly.  

    “Ooh, burn.  Nice to see you again, too, Naeun.” 

    I cracked a smile.  Hara was scrolling through her twitter feed, as per usual.  Dasom was in Mr. Baek’s homeroom.  Hyuna sat behind us, with the spot next to her empty.  Anyone who had the slightest idea about approaching her vicinity unless they were hot, over 5’ 10’’, and a boy would have to think again about showing their face to school the next morning.  Or, ever.  She was known for her cutthroat, ‘no-go’ attitude, which was the reason why I became best friends with her in the first yer of middle school.

    “Ugh, should’ve joined the B-cast.  The transfer student still isn’t here,” Hyuna said with a twinge of annoyance.  She brought down her studded Christian Louboutins to the ground with such force I winced, inwardly praying the stiletto heel wouldn’t snap. 

    “Nice job by the way,” Hara chirped.  It seemed a little strange.  Hyuna was the first to tell me what a shoo-in my segment was each morning.  Hara or Dasom would follow up.  

    “Thanks,” I gushed.  I hooked the straps of my Celine trio (large) on the side of my desk.  “Do you think it’s enough to kick-off the new semester?” 

    “Obvi,” Hyuna said, tapping her acrylic nails on the surface of the desk.  Her input had a slight easing sensation.  “Who doesn’t know Son Naeun?” 

    With a genuine smile of satisfactory, I turned to fully face the front of the classroom, once again feeling the familiar glory of basking in the sun rays.  Metaphorically.  

    Then, Mr. Lee walked in, with the attendance sheet tucked under his armpit.  Before we resumed to greet him all in unison monotonously, we stopped as the assistant principal walked in shortly after with the transfer student.  

    Tall, dark-haired, and absolutely gorgeous.  He stood there wearing a black button down and a pair of jeans, looking like a prince.  The girls behind us gave a round of appreciative whistles before the assistant principal walked out as Mr. Lee reprimanded the class.  

    With stellar smirk, a right dimple making its debut, he introduced himself as Kim Myungsoo.  His tone was flat, monotonous, his expression afterwards even more so.  

    “Alright, Myungsoo, find an empty spot.” Mr. Lee scanned the class before letting out a collective sigh.  “Kim Hyuna, this isn’t the changing room at Saks Fifth,” he said, referring to her blood orange Philip Lim bag resting on the chair next to her.  

    Hara and I leaned forward, muffling snickers.  I pretended not to see Hyuna's rather subdued glare.  She then swiped the purse off the chair and smiled flirtasiously at Myungsoo, who dropped his bag at the foot of the chair and sat down, leaning back into his seat.  

    I fought the urge to turn around and stare.  Just at a second’s glance, he was already cut out to be the most handsome boy on campus.  For a second, I almost felt jealous of Hyuna.  She could get through any guy’s fence without being judged.  On top of that, she was sitting right next to him.  

    I mentally chastised myself.  I couldn’t hit a new low.  There were bigger things for me to worry about other than… boys.  

    About ten minutes into his arrival, girls have attempted to approach him, ask for his number, tweets, texts, and posts on snapchat with pictures of the new eye candy blew up, and he had officially become known to the entire school once homeroom had let out.

    Before fourth period, the girls and I met up at our joint spot at the B wing.  

    “He like, barely talks,” Dasom said, considerable dissappointment tracing her voice.  

    “So he’s a mystery boy.  I’m okay with that.  Is he a good kisser?” Hyuna asked without looking up from her hand mirror.  She was smirking as she glided on another layer of matte lipstick, but her eyes were dead serious.  

    “Thirsty,” Hara coughed, causing Dasom to break into giggles.

     I rolled my eyes, inconspicuously tripping myself over to knock into Hyuna’s side.  “N!” she practically screeched, shooting me daggers.  

    I gave her a micro smile.  “Sorry, forgot my caffeine fix this morning,” I simpered.  

    “I heard he already got asked out by Doyeon.”

    “Seriously? As in Kim Doyeon the girl who ate the entire chocolate cake during my dad’s garden party?” I scrunched up my nose.  

    “I know right?” Dasom shook her head a little, part dissapproval, part disbelief.  “But she’s a no-show, plus she’s an attention , it was kind of obvious L would turn her down.” 

    “L?” Hyuna and I asked in unison.    

    “Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  Some girls during French were talking about how Myungsoo’s father owns a major company under the label ‘L’.  Every celebrity needs a stagename, and seeing as he’s practically campus famous now, almost everyone calls him L.” 

    This was funny.  He had just showed up, months into the school year, and he had earned himself a throne, a nickname, and a reputation without even trying.  The Ice Prince, or some gimmicky label like that.  

    I scoffed.  “It still baffles me how far you could get with just your appearances.” 

    “Yeah, and girls have to try extra hard,” Dasom agreed, raking her fingers through the ends of her blowout.  

    “As if it’s so hard to spread your legs,” Hara said sardonically, winking.  Hyuna let out a raspy laugh, holding her sides.  My lips tugged into a knowing smile.  

    Quickly, my eyes found the analog clock by the end of the hallway.  “Sorry, girls, gotta book it to class.” 

    “Alright, we’ll see you at lunch, I guess.” 

    I had already started walking away.  

    It was in Algebra 2, when I showed up to class, considerably late, with my Tiffany & Co. sterling silver earrings dangling from my fingers.  “Sorry, miss.  I was backtracking after losing my earrings in Mr. Sikes’ room.” 

    Lie.  

    I had stalled for about ten minutes, caught up on the school’s social media circle on Myungsoo.  Lived in Japan for about a year before moving back.  Born and raised in Seoul.  Even bigger than that? Son of LHotel corporation’s Chair, which explained the slight aura of royalty he always carried. I couldn’t stop asking myself why, though.  Why did I care? Why couldn’t I resist myself from just… getting to know him? 

    Mrs. Cho slid off her vintage cat eye glasses, sighing.  “Seeing as you don’t have a late pass, it’s the first day back, and you have a rather reasonable excuse, I’ll let you off the hook.  Your seat’s by the back next to-“ she paused looking up from her agenda.  “Myungsoo, was it?” 

    What.  “Thank you,” my mark sounded more like a question, with my voice wavering at a higher inclination, which was what I always did when I was confused or nervous.  And I was rarely confused or nervous about anything.  

    So I walked slowly to the back, almost too cautiously, putting in the hooks of my earrings into my lobe at the same time with my bag hanging on the crook of my elbow.  Myungsoo sat in his chair with his arm crossed, his eyes bored, hair almost artistically disheveled - the type of hair all guys worked for first thing in the morning.  

    Okay, so he was good at math.  According to everything I found out about him since the L Effect started, he was good at everything.  

    I slid into the seat next to him, holding my breath as my elbow brushed his forearm.  It seemed harder for me to relax my shoulders, to breathe normally — what was wrong with me? 

    For a brief moment, out of my peripheral view, I saw him turn to face me.  Habitually, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.  When he looked away, my phone buzzed silently against the pocket of my cardigan.  With quick fingers, I pulled it out, keeping it underneath the desk to see a message from Hyuna: