“I’m Kwon Jiyong,” he murmured and looked up to see my reaction. It was as if he knew he’d get a reaction from me. I thought I was going crazy. I thought for a second I’d been dreaming again, but the touch of his smooth hand had snapped me back into reality.

Shaking his hand, I gaped at his smirking face.

What kind of situation was this, chincha?! I thought I was never going to see him ever again!

I clear my throat and pull my hand back from his grip.

With discomfort, I introduce myself to him. Only because our grandmothers’ creepy dreamy gazes just totally pressured me.

“I, um, I’m Park Sandara,” I said in a small voice and turned away, refusing to meet his gaze.

It was quiet for a few seconds and I hear him say, “Sandara.” As if testing out some kind of foreign name. Jesus christ, my name rolling off his tongue.

‘Get a grip of yourself Park Sandara! You’re better than this! You can’t let him get to you!’

After the most awkwardest lunch of my life, I’d quietly excuse myself and and head down to the pier with my guitar.

It’d been such a hectic few days that I needed time to just relax, and music was just the solution. I sit at the edge of the wooden boards and heave a relieved sigh. It was just me, my feet touching the water, guitar in hand, and nothing but the sounds of the waves.

I gently caress the neck of my guitar, holding it if as it were a child. This was the small patch of my dream I had left. The small patch of my life I could feel freedom through.

I close my eyes and strum the strings of my guitar carefully, one by one, whispering the lyrics of ‘Officially Missing You.’

“Hm, an awkward country girl with the voice of angel. Guess I kinda underestimated you, didn’t I?” muttered his voice behind me.

My eyes snapped open and my hand stopped it’s motions. I turn to glare at him.

“You just can’t stay away, can’t you?” I snap at him.

My eyes roll down his body. He wore a striped t-shirt button up with the sleeves slightly rolled up, accentuating his lean arms. His pants were khaki colored skinny jeans, folded up to his ankle to show his sandal-clad feet.

His jet black hair wasn’t styled like the last two times I’d seen him. He’d just wore it down, letting his bangs fall on top of his forehead. Seeing him like this makes me forget about his arrogant, overpowering aura and reminds me that he too, is a normal boy.

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter