Just as Emily finished fangirling over her endless list of biases, Pearl froze mid-step.
Standing a few feet away by the vending machine, sipping water like he was modeling for a magazine cover, was none other than Armstrong—tall, smug, and impossibly irritating.
Pearl's eyes narrowed. "Speak of the devil."
Emily's eyes followed hers and practically squealed. "Oh my God, it's him! He's even hotter in daylight!"
"Ugh," Pearl muttered. "Let's walk the other way before he sees—"
"Pearl!" Armstrong called out, his voice smooth and annoyingly chipper. "You're not stalking me again, are you?"
Pearl spun around, jaw tight. "You wish."
He smirked, walking toward them. "I actually don't. Once is enough for me to feel haunted."
Emily gripped Pearl's arm, whispering, "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in the middle of a K-drama confrontation?"
"Because you are," Pearl deadpanned.
Armstrong finally stopped in front of them. "So, this is your friend?"
"Yep," Pearl said, crossing her arms. "And she's not into jerks. Just so you know."
Emily, starstruck, whispered, "I might make an exception."
Pearl sighed loudly.
Armstrong chuckled. "You're lucky your sass is cute."
"you're lucky I don't slap people in public," Pearl snapped back.
Armstrong tilted his head, the smirk never leaving his lips. "You've got a sharp tongue, Pearl. Ever thought of using it for something more… productive?"
Pearl blinked. "Excuse me?"
Emily gasped quietly, eyes darting between the two like a tennis match.
Pearl stepped forward, her voice sharp. "Do you always flirt like a walking HR violation, or is this your discount charm at work?"
Armstrong's grin widened. "Oh, so you *do* think it's charm."
"Charm?" she scoffed. "You're as charming as a traffic jam on Monday morning."
Emily tried to whisper, "Guys, maybe tone it down—"
But Armstrong wasn't done. "You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you sure keep bumping into me."
Pearl rolled her eyes. "Right, because *I'm* the one following *you* around every corner like a stray cat."
"I don't mind a stray cat," he said, lowering his voice. "Especially one that scratches."
Pearl's heart thudded, and she hated that for half a second… she froze.
Emily was about to faint from excitement.
Pearl shook herself out of it. "You're impossible."
"Possibly impossible," Armstrong winked, then turned and walked off, leaving behind that infuriating scent of expensive cologne and chaos.
Emily turned slowly, eyes wide. "You *are* living a K-drama!"
Pearl stared after him, jaw clenched. "No. I'm living a nightmare in designer shoes."
But even she couldn't ignore the weird heat creeping up her neck.
*"Why did everything about Armstrong scream Bryan? It wasn't just the way he talked — it was the rhythm of his words, the cocky grin that danced on his lips when he teased her, the way he always had a smart remark ready like he'd rehearsed it in front of a mirror. That self-assured charm, borderline ego, the way he leaned in just enough to rattle her without ever crossing the line… It was Bryan all over again. The resemblance wasn't in looks, but in energy. In chaos. In the way both boys made her feel seen… and unsteady. And no matter how hard she tried to push the thought aside, her heart wouldn't let her ignore it. Not when it was starting to ache all over again."
And why was it aching " is it because of Bryan or Armstrong ?".
***
Later that day, Pearl thought she had finally escaped the chaos Armstrong brought with him. After lectures, she headed to her favorite quiet corner in the school library, tucked between dusty shelves no one visited. She needed calm. Silence. Sanity.
But of course—Armstrong.
Sitting casually at *her* corner table, legs crossed, headphones in, pretending to read a book upside down.
Pearl stopped dead. "What are you *doing* here?"
He didn't even look up. "Manifesting peace and maybe... the attention of a certain loud-mouthed waitress-slash-student who seems to keep showing up in my life."
Pearl marched up to him. "This is my reading spot."
"Oh?" He finally looked up, eyes gleaming. "I thought libraries were public."
"You thought wrong," she snapped, yanking the book from his hand and flipping it the right way up. "You can't even read upside down properly."
He leaned in slightly, voice lower. "Why are you always this fiery, Pearl? You like fighting with me too much."
She backed up. "Don't flatter yourself. If I had a choice between talking to you and chewing glass, I'd already be bleeding."
Armstrong chuckled, low and amused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable — like a memory brushing past.
"That's exactly what you said back at the factory," he murmured, almost to himself, a wistful glint of nostalgia softening his usually smug expression.
Pearl froze. Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head slightly, her fingers tightening around the book in her hand.
"Wait… what?" she asked cautiously.
"Tell me," he said smoothly, "do you act like this with every guy who gets under your skin… or just the ones you secretly like?"
Her breath hitched. "I don't like you."
He leaned even closer. "Then why are you still standing here?"
Pearl blinked, stunned—then turned on her heel and stormed out of the library.
But her heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons.
Or was it the right ones?