"Did you seriously bring a hair curler to school?"

You stare at the plug dangling from Na-yeon's designer tote as she yanks it out of her locker.

"It's a mini curler," She replies with a flip of her hair. "Don't be dramatic."

You blink. "You plugged it in the hallway."

"I had bangs today," She says like that explains everything. "Humidity doesn't care about my image."

You grin. "Tragic. Must be hard, being this perfect all the time."

She turns sharply, eyes narrowing. "Is that sarcasm?"

"I don't know. Is your hair melting or is that just the fury coming off your scalp?"

Na-yeon glares. "You're the most annoying person I know."

"And yet," You say, leaning against the locker beside hers, "you only ever sit next to me at lunch."

She scoffs. "That's because you'll cry if I leave you."

You tilt your head. "Would I?"

Na-yeon falters.

That's the thing about teasing her — she always fights back, but you always win. Not because you're smarter (she'd riot if you claimed that out loud), but because you don't flinch when she throws her walls up. You've known her since she used to cry when her ribbon didn't match her shoes.

And despite her claims, she always ends up next to you.

Later that day...

You're both stuck in the library for study hall. She's pretending to read, but you can tell she's just watching your reflection in the window.

"You're not reading."

"I was, until you breathed again."

You don't respond. Just stare at her. She fidgets.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you think you know me."

"I do know you," You say easily. "You act mean so no one sees how soft you are."

She blinks. That shuts her up.

Then quietly, like it costs her everything: "...I'm not soft."

You smile. "You are with me."

She's red now. Her voice wobbles. "You're so — ugh."

You lean forward. "Say it."

She throws her pen at you. "So lucky I like you."