"So glad you could make it Mr and Mrs Kim! Let me introduce you to my daughter..."

"Honey, come here -- I'd like you to meet someone..."

"Say 'hello' to Sehun, Mrs Oh's son, Hyejeong..."

Your fingers clenched a little tighter at the sparkly clutch bag in your hands. You smiled through gritted teeth as you shook hands with the next person your mother introduced you to. Due to you forcing laughter and faking smiles all night, your cheeks were starting to hurt. Badly.

As founder of the country's top designer-handbag company,  your mother liked to host annual dinner parties, in where by she would invite the country's wealthiest businessmen and businesswomen. Clad in designer suits and designer dresses, they would walk into the venue, acting like they were royalty.

Honestly, most of your mum's guests were arrogant snobs; they were the kind of people who would only give you the time of day if you were worth something to them - which meant that you had to be up to par with them in terms of wealth, or even richer.

Although these people were rude to you, you tolerated them and  responded to them politely. This was only for your mother's sake -- You knew how hard she, as a single parent, worked to earn the money to raise you. Ever since your father died when you were a baby, she had immersed herself into designing bags of the highest quality, all so that you could grow up as a child deprived of nothing else.

"The food tastes awful!" you overheard a lady complaining. "You would think that with all this money, she could afford better catering..."

You put your glass down on a nearby counter, finally having enough. These people were spoilt rotten, and it was really getting on your nerves.

"Excuse me," you said curtly to the boy your mother had been trying to set you up with. He stopped talking abruptly and you couldn't help but sigh in relief internally as the conversation had been oh, so boring. You didn't even bother faking a smile this time as you stormed right out into the building's balcony, shutting the glass doors behind you.

You set your clutch bag -- one of your mother's designs -- on the tiled ground, and then you folded your arms across your chest, eyebrows creasing in frustration.

Suddenly, the doors opened once more and out stepped a young man with reddish-brown hair. Instead of wearing a fancy suit like all the other males inside, this man opted for a more casual look -- he wore a black blazer with a white T-shirt underneath, and black pants. Despite looking pretty chic, he gave off a boy-next-door sort of vibe.

The young man looked at you with surprise evident on his features. "I am so sorry," he said, starting to move behind the door again, "I didn't think there'd be anyone out here -- I just needed to... Get some air--"

"You can stay," you cut him off, halting his rambling. He didn't seem like any if the other heirs and heiresses mingling inside, and by the looks of it, he didn't seem to be enjoying the party either. Empathetic, you signaled for him to scoot over.

"I'm Hongbin," the man introduced voluntarily. He shot you a grin -- the most genuine one you had seen all night -- and you noticed the dimple on his face. It made him look even more adorable than he already was; you felt your insides melt a little.

You decided to introduce yourself as well. "Hyejeong," you said, uncrossing your arms, posture relaxing. Your hands moved to rest on the balcony railing and you leaned forward, eyes wandering to look at the city lights.

Hongbin followed your gaze. Below the both of you cars honked and sirens blared, loud an obnoxious -- the common sounds of a big city like Seoul. After awhile, he spoke again, voice full of admiration. "Pretty nice view this place has. Good location for a function."

Knowing how difficult it was for your mother to book the venue, you bit back a smile; you were happy that someone was actually grateful for your mother's efforts. You nodded in agreement at Hongbin's statement.

"So, you go to these things often?" you asked, referring to parties held by upperclassmen.

"Not really," Hongbin admitted. "I wouldn't have come to this one if my dad hadn't threatened to send me over to my crazy aunt's place for a month... How about you?" he asked.

"Almost every. Month," you said dryly, nose scrunching up in distaste. Hongbin chuckled, understanding. "To be honest, I'd rather be at home, in my PJs, listening to Park Hyoshin on my mp3."

"You're a Park Hyoshin fan? Me too!" Hongbin exclaimed, making the two of you burst out in laughter together.

"You're joking," you said, when you had finally calmed down.

"I'm not actually," Hongbin sent a lopsided grin your way again -- damn, that dimple would be the death of you.

You giggled, trying to comprehend that the hot guy in front of you was a total Park Hyoshin fanboy.

Hongbin turned to face you. "Guess fame and fortune don't matter much to us, eh?"

"Guess not--"

At that moment, the glass doors to the balcony swung open unexpectedly, revealing your mother.

"Oh there you are, honey," she looked at you, relief flooding her expression. "I was worried when I couldn't find you inside; I thought something had happened--"

"Everything's good, mom."

Beside you, Hongbin shifted. Your mother's eyes flickered towards him. "Oh, hello. Mr. Lee's son, right?"

"Yes," Hongbin displayed his dimple for the nth time that night. "Please, call me Hongbin."

"Well, Hongbin, I'm glad that you and Hyejeong have already met," your mother's beam was nearly as blinding as her diamond necklace. "But I'm afraid that I have to steal her away for the rest if the night. There are some other guests that I'd like her to meet."

You suppressed a groan.

"Oh, that's alright." Hongbin said politely. He then looked you directly in the eyes, and your stomach surged with butterflies. "I'll just catch you some other time, Hyejeong."

"Sure." You retrieved your bag from it's spot, trying to act indifferent as you smoothed down the creases of your navy blue dress. Your mother exited the balcony area and you started to follow suit. However, a hand reached out to grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"My number," Hongbin slipped a piece of paper into your palm and you mumbled your thanks. "Call me whenever your bored at one of these things, okay?" he teased and you rolled your eyes.

"You know, there is a seventy percent chance that I will."

"Only seventy?" Hongbin questioned, disappointment slipping into his voice.

"Gotta be there for my mom."

"Right," he nodded. "So how about if you ever want to hang out then?"

You smirked. "Yeah, that has a higher chance of happening."

"Cool," Suddenly shy, Hongbin shoved his hands into his pockets.

Later that night, as you lay awake on your bed, you couldn't get that stupid dimple out of your mind. Nor could you forget Hongbin's stupid laugh.

Your eyes landed on your phone on the bedside table. You reached for it, bringing out the keypad to type a text message.

You wondered if Hongbin was still awake.