You were sitting by yourself, nestled away in a quiet corner of a busy library. Finals week was just coming to a close, and students were furiously studying for the final one or two exams they had left. You didn’t need to worry about that, though. Being an art major, most of your exam was turning in a few paintings and sketches, with an essay on art history and an independent study piece of you choice. Your choice just happened to be a watercolor painting depicting the colors in your everyday life. The teacher had, of course, loved it, and it now hung in the lobby of the student center with your name on a plaque and everything. No one recognized the name, why should they? You kept mostly to yourself, a college sophomore who’d made deans list since your first semester. You buried yourself in school work, hiding away in the school’s student art studio whenever you had time and when it was busy, or others were using it, you found yourself in the library, just as you were now.

There was an empty sketchbook in front of you, leather bound and fancy paper. It had been a gift from your mother to congratulate you on passing your exams (grades weren’t out yet, but if your artwork was hanging up, it had to mean you passed, right?), since you wouldn’t be able to travel home for the summer. Your mother decided to follow her own dreams while you were away at college, and was currently halfway through Europe. You were happy for her, you couldn’t deny that, but you wished you could go back home to her for the summer instead of staying in your student condo a few blocks off campus. It’d been paid for until your graduation, so you supposed it was convenient, but it wasn’t home.

You tapped your pencil against the first page in the sketchbook, eyebrows drawn together as you stared at the paper, trying to will your hand to draw lines. You couldn’t find the strength to do so, couldn’t make your hand move other than tapping the eraser over and over. It seemed that nothing would come to you- finals had probably enough creative juice out of you for weeks. This meant there’d be many frustrating sessions in the student art studio, and the thought of that itself made you slam the sketchbook close and shove it into your messenger bag. You’d just go to the campus coffee shop and see if anything inspiring struck you there.

The weather was surprisingly nice that day, despite meteorologists saying the clouds would block out the sun. The joke was on them- the sun was in full force, and many students that had opted for sweaters had removed them for their tee-shirts and tank tops. You had worn your sweater, and in the air conditioned library you were comfortable. However, now it was decidedly warmer than the library, so as you made your way across campus to the coffee shop, you removed it and slung it over your bag. There was a gentle breeze, and by the time you reached the coffee shop you had goosebumps on your arms from the cool breeze and warm sun against them.

The shop wasn’t crowded, so you took your usual spot by the window as the barista nodded towards you and began preparing your usual drink- an iced mocha frappuccino topped with whipped cream and a cherry. The cherry was your personal touch, it was always the best start to a nice refreshing drink. It was your favorite part. Honestly, you could’ve put a cherry on any kind of drink.

You took your sketchbook out of your bag along with your pencil case. Nothing had particularly grabbed your attention on the way to the shop, but you decided to give it one more try before accepting your fate. It didn't take long before you were glaring at the empty page, not even realizing that the barista had brought you your drink, or that he had explained it was already paid for.

Nothing could break your focus on the page, as though the mere power of thought could produce some masterpiece out of nowhere. It wasn't until an arm draped across your back and a warm body against yours that you noticed the world around you was still right where you'd left it. Except now there was someone in your own little world, breaking through some unseen atmosphere and being in by some make believe gravity.

"Just keep doing what you were doing." Even whispering, you could hear the voice rumble through your body, making your chest tight.

It wasn't hard to do as you were told. You felt frozen in your seat, eyes glued to the blank page. The arm around you felt strong, the body leaning into yours was sturdy. You could smell the mystery man's cologne. It wasn't unbearable, but distinguished. Musky and masculine, not overpowering at all like the sprays most of the boys at this school used.

You glanced towards the stranger out of the corner of your eye. You caught a glimpse of bright blonde hair, spiky in some parts with a severe undercut, and lightly tanned, muscled arms. He had a good sense of fashion, if the designer logo you saw was any kind of indication. You looked back down at the page, trying to steady your breathing. There was no doubt this stranger was good looking, and he was sitting right next to you, and...

And he leaned in closer, arm tightening around you. You could practically feel his smile against your hair. "Don't look up, act natural."

"How do I-"

But you never finished. You looked up right as the chime above the door sounded, announcing that someone had entered. And entered, she did. The man at your side tensed, and you finally understood that for some reason he was avoiding the woman who had just entered. You turned your attention back to your sketchbook and found that you were finally able to draw again. You worked quickly, wanting to get as much done as you could before the mystery woman made her way to your table.

Her high heels announced her arrival, so you looked up before she even had the chance to speak.

"It looks just like me!"

You held up the drawing. It was rough and sloppy, but there was no mistaking the face on the paper matched the one grinning widely at you. You felt your heart flip flop, but swallowed the feeling away. The woman cleared .

"Wonshik, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Her voice was high, but not obnoxious. She was chewing bubblegum, though, and that was. You heard the snap of a bubble popping, and you looked up. The guy with you, Wonshik she’d said, wasn’t even paying attention to her, instead he was still smiling at the drawing in your lap. The bubblegum snapped again, and you turned your attention to the stranger at your side. He finally looked at the girl, and he didn’t look thrilled.

“I’m kind of busy,” he told her.

“You don’t look it.”
“You should just give up.”

“No.”

His smile returned, but you could tell it was forced.

“I got a pretty good set up here, don’t ruin it.”
The woman crossed her arms, and you could feel her cold glare on you. You ignored it, using your finger to make a few smudges on the drawing. You felt like you were intruding on something, though you hadn’t done anything at all. It was them who had intruded on you. Wonshik turned his attention back to you, and his smile turned genuine.

“I think I’ll frame this one, it’s your best one of me!”

“It’s the only one of you,” you told him.

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is, huh? Well, it’s my favorite because it’s the first.”

The girl tapped her foot a few times, but it was clear to you that Wonshik was not going to give her any more attention for the day. Eventually she must’ve realized that, because with another snap-pop of her bubblegum, she left. Wonshik seemed to relax at your side when the door closed, and he removed his arm from around you.
“Sorry about that, she just won’t give up!” He grinned at you, offering his hand. “I’m Wonshik, but everyone calls me Ravi.”

You took his hand. “Alexis.”

“I knew your drawing looked familiar. Your work is up in the student center, right?”
You felt your cheeks flush as you nodded. Someone actually recognized you to your work? You tore the drawing from your sketchbook and handed it to him.
“You can keep this, then. Since it’s your favorite.”

He laughed, and it was a nice sound to hear. You wondered absently if you’d be able to hear it again after today. He’d used you to deter unwanted advances from a noticeably beautiful woman. What were the chances you’d see him again? But it was almost as if he read your mind, because the next words out of his mouth…

“I’d like to see you again, if that’s cool.”

“Uh…”
“Because of Hyuna. She won’t leave me alone.” He ran a hand through his hair, draping his other arm behind him on the chair. He looked like a model, and you had the sudden urge to draw him again. “I lied a few times, saying I had a girlfriend. But since I’m never hanging around any girls she never believed me. I saw you walk in and just... nah this sounds weird, am I freaking you out?”
He looked to you again, and you flushed when you realized he’d caught you staring. You looked away. You didn’t think it was weird… well, you did. But you could understand where he was coming from. You shook your head.
“I understand. It’s okay. Anyway, you helped me out today, too. I’d just finished finals, and couldn’t draw. I just get so fried sometimes, but… I drew so maybe the block is gone.”

When you looked at him again, he was the one that was staring. You looked away quickly, shutting your sketchbook and setting your pencil on the table. “I mean, that’s probably weird…”

Wonshik laughed again.

“Nah, girl. That sounds pretty cool. I get that. The block. And speaking of…” He stood, pushing the chair in. “I gotta get going. I’ll see you around?”
“Uh… yeah.”

He leaned in, and for a moment you thought he was going to… do what, exactly? You didn’t know, but you felt oddly disappointed when he straightened up. He gave you a short wave, and headed for the door.
“See ya ‘round, Cherry.”

“My name-”
He was out the door, and when you reached for your drink, you noticed that your cherry on top was gone.

“Damn…”