1 (Continuation)

I cannot believe I never noticed my omission of this entire segment that was supposed to be part of the first chapter until now. I'm an idiot.

That night, I mulled over the ease with which Baekhyun had me softening up to him. It was exasperating to think in retrospect. Before going to sleep, I evoked all of the distress I felt during the school year caused by him and made a new, strengthened resolution to continue begrudging him until he properly repented. Would I fail? …Maybe, but at least I'd know I tried first.

An effort made, an effort succeeded. It took three days of inattention and terse phrasing before he figured out my motive. A week added, and Baekhyun had by then tried gaining my forgiveness with almost every cliché I could recognize—most of them inspired by romcoms we used to binge back when I still fit in their demographic. (He always did enjoy them more than I did, despite whatever denials.) He left a card on my bedside table every morning with a corny compliment written alongside a rose that gradually accumulated to a full bouquet over the week, serenaded me songs from various musicals with the lyrics altered to pertain to me—you name it, he did it.

At this point, it was a game of cat and mouse more than an actual quarrel to resolve for both of us. I wanted to test how far he was willing to go in his “woo the girl with overbearing cheesiness” plan, and he seemed happy to oblige with my experiment.

It was also at this point that my mom arranged a trip with her friends, leaving the two of us alone in the house. Sometimes I wasn't sure whether to sigh in relief or distress that she didn’t seem to be even fleetingly concerned that anything unscrupulous could occur between Baekhyun and me. The dance my heart was performing at the image of the sunset glow engulfing his figure while we picnicked outside seemed a sure red flag.

Enough, I thought, my eyes locked ahead. This is enough. He's got to stop soon. But… for now, why not revel in the life of a melodrama protagonist?

“My sandwiches are pretty good now, right?” he asked. I was in the middle of taking a bite of one of them, and, in all honesty, it WAS pretty tasty. 

Because he made it for me? I smiled mockingly at myself.

He waited for my affirmation, looking expectant and maybe a little smug.

Still playing hard to get (albeit halfheartedly), I placed the sandwich down, wiped my crumbly mouth, and plastered on an unimpressed expression. “They're edible.” I shrugged.

His g