The agitated expression that Yuta's currently sporting tells me he doesn't want to be here any longer than we must be.

We decided to meet up in SU's secondary and much smaller library to run our ideas by each other and then somehow incorporate the two. I could no longer avoid it and with Yuta's impatient streak, there was no point in further putting it off.

He obtained my number from a classmate instead of asking me for it himself and when I groggily woke up to a text message from an unknown number, I aggressively slammed my phone against the night-stand, screen-down too. Thank goodness for tempered glass protectors nowadays.

Who is he to boss me around, really? He can't be that much older either.

Nakamoto Yuta from Japan, a Sophomore double majoring in Graphic Design and Fine arts. Apparently, according to Minkyung's research, he's received countless awards for his art since the young age of five when he attended a rigorous art school back home. I almost want to consider him intimidating but I refuse to allow myself to think this way. Not when he's such a demanding prick who talks crap online.

"Might as well add 'online bully' to the résumé," I grumbled under my breath as he settles down into the chair across from me.

I had noticed him once I entered through the doors of the quaint library, but I strolled right pass him—where he was seated—to a table at the very rear of the room. Since he seems to hate me, why be seen with me?

Oh yeah, project. Right.

"What did you say?" He asks, tapping his mechanical pencil against the pages of his opened sketchpad. He's obviously made some notes as I notice some scribbling across the page.

"How can you read your own writing? It's horrific."

I want to face-palm myself. How can I already be so feisty with my partner for the project? Am I asking to fail already?

Luckily, Yuta just shrugs in response. "Because I usually know what I'm writing so it can't be but so hard to decode." He smiles this time, though it doesn't reach his eyes, he's trying to