There are three types of students; One, someone who is actually here to study. Two, someone who is here to sleep. Three, someone who is here for Choi Minho.

And unfortunately, I am the third type.

I’d say fortunately but mom, dad, if you’re reading my mind, I am type number 1, clearly.

I am a strong believer of the myth that there is someone out there who can read minds, for sure. I mean how cool will it be if I am able to do that. I’d read Minho’s mind all the time.

“The answer isn’t written on Minho’s face, is it, Taemin?” , I have been caught. I gulp and fake a smile which says that whatever you’ve said isn’t true but Mrs. Jang looks through the façade I’ve put up and eyes me. “Taemin, this is fourth time in a row.” I hear some whistles but I have no idea why they are whistling because doesn’t she mean that fourth time I was asked something and I was as clueless as a newborn baby? Or did she actually count times I looked at Minho.

In the second case I’d like to proudly say that she is wrong because it’s definitely over 4 times.

I hear a choking sound and I whip my head to the right and squint because he is so talented he can even choke on Nitrogen!