“Will you please stop doing that.”

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

“Stop what?” Jisoo asked, her chin balanced loosely in the palm of her hand, continuing to tap her fountain pen on the unopened psychology textbook that lay in front of her.

“Are you being deliberately dense, or have I just overlooked your incessant idiocy the last eighteen years?”

The raven-haired mischief maker let out a low chuckle. An irritatingly charming sound that was completely unwarranted and almost dissipated my rapidly building annoyance on the spot.

Attempting to ignore the legato esque beat emanating from across the table, I diligently returned my attention to the well-worn copy of Great Expectations sat before me. It was an old copy that Junhoe had gotten from his sister, half of the front cover was missing, and the spine of the novel held together with sticky tape. However, the pages were adorned with in depth analysis and meaningful annotations that were meant to help when it came to the dreaded task of essay writing. Unfortunately, so far, I wasn’t reaping the benefits from it. The messy situation with Mr. Yang and Jisoo’s repeated tapping paired together weren’t not conducive to me getting the most out of this study period. Ever since last night’s Monopoly game this impending sense of doom had fallen over me. Fear of the unknown most likely. I just couldn’t quite understand how we were going to expose Yang without there being any repercussions.

Shaking myself from all thoughts of shifty Yang, I returned my attention to the words of Charles Dickens and began compiling the quotes I needed for my essay. Time to get in that good old revision zone.

For about 60 seconds.

“It’s rude to stare, Jisoo,” I muttered, my eyes still firmly fixed on my book as I noted down a few more key quotes.

“How do you know I’m staring? You’re not even looking at me?”

“I can feel you staring. It’s creepy.”

“Well,” she smiled, clearly glad about her current efforts to distract me, “If you could see how adorable you look when you’re trying to concentrate then I think we’d be in agreement when I say, Y/N, it would be rude not to stare.”

“Really?” I questioned, my eyebrow raised, and the corners of my lips twisted under the strain of my efforts not to smile. I could only hope my cheeks weren’t betraying me and lighting up redder than a fire truck. Composing myself, I spared her a singular glance before looking back down at my book. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

She chuckled that same stupid endearing chuckle again.

“Darling,” Jisoo smirked, her tone somewhere between amused and mildly offended. She abandoned her pen tapping and leaned over the table gently taking my chin in her hand. The older girl pulled my gaze up from my notes forcing our eyes to meet. “Do you really think you can fool me after all these years? I know all your tells Y/N.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart.”

“Let go of me.”

“We both know you don’t want me to do that.”

My feeble mission to maintain strict eye contact with her was as successful as attempting to fight off a tiger with a wooden spoon. The overwhelming urge to glance down at those plump heart-shaped lips was something I could not yield to. I would not give her the pleasure of knowing she was right, especially after she had spent the majority of this morning’s study period irritating me, regardless of how much I wanted to.

Almost as if she was sensing my inner battle, the raven-haired girl’s pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

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