Chapter 29. An Awkward Feeling

“Hey, press the stop button earlier next time!”

The bus driver’s gruff voice snapped Taeseong back to his senses. He quickly jerked his head back and checked Haeyoung’s face.

Thankfully, despite the sudden stop, she was still sound asleep.

“Ha…”

Taeseong let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes.

His clenched lips, as if trying to suppress something, made his jawline stand out sharply.

It had been a flash—a brief touch that could hardly even be called a kiss.

Too short to give it that name, really.

Yet the unfamiliar sensation was more vivid than anything else.

As if time had stretched during that fleeting brush of lips.

Taeseong raised a hand and touched his lips.

Soft. Warm. Damp.

The sensation still tickled like feathers—not just on his lips, but maybe even… in his heart.

No, he wasn’t sure anymore.

Was it his lips that tingled—or was it his heart?

As he swallowed dryly, fighting a private and lonely battle, his gaze crawled its way back to Haeyoung.

His eyes, now tinged with a strange heat, inevitably landed on her lips again.

All he could see were her plump lips, as if magnified under a lens.

Thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump.

He hadn’t done anything—just looked. And yet his heart pounded like he was committing a sin.

When his breath reached his throat and almost spilled over, Taeseong jerked his gaze away and muttered,

“…Are you insane, Joo Taeseong?”

Was it really something to get this flustered over? Their lips barely brushed.

It was just an accident.

So why?

Why did Cha Haeyoung suddenly feel so… awkward to him?

Fragments of confused thoughts scattered across his heart like broken glass.

He tried to find the reason for the awkwardness, but there was no clean answer.

Still, one thing was clear.

He had to keep this accidental kiss a secret from Haeyoung.

They had only just begun growing closer after countless fights and reconciliations.

He didn’t want to risk that bond getting strained again over something like this.

“Phew…”

Taeseong closed his eyes and exhaled, as if believing that deep breaths might cool his heart.

But after that fleeting brush, he could no longer see Haeyoung as just a friend.

And he couldn’t cool off—because her gentle breathing kept brushing against his cheek.

Time passed quickly, and midterms came and went.

Spring had begun to give way to its later half.

Where petals had fallen, green buds had sprouted. The sunlight had deepened in warmth, and the breeze carried the fragrance of flowers, spreading excitement in the air.

And amid this perfect spring, Haeyoung faced a new crisis.

“Alright, for this semester’s performance assessment—we’re doing basketball!”

The gym teacher, who despite being a woman had a voice louder than most men, shouted with glee.

Standing at the end of the line, Haeyoung sighed.

“Ugh… I suck at sports.”

She wasn’t athletic to begin with, but especially when it came to ball games, her body just… shut down.

Since middle school, she had been a laughingstock whenever it came to ball-based sports.

Table tennis, volleyball, dodgeball—you name it.

She had too many traumatic memories involving balls to even count.

And now, of all things, the assessment had to be basketball?

Her temples throbbed just thinking about it.

Soon after, the teacher demonstrated some simple dribbling, passing, and shooting techniques, then told the students to pair up and start practicing.

Naturally, Haeyoung partnered with Chakyung.

Since they had to share the basket, they decided to start with dribbling.

“Ah—ah!”

While everyone else managed basic dribbling with ease, Haeyoung couldn’t control the ball at all.

“Ugh, why are you running away from me…?”

She spent more time chasing after the ball than actually bouncing it.

Unable to watch any longer, Chakyung tried to help by showing her again.

But if Haeyoung couldn’t learn from the teacher, she wasn’t going to improve through Chakyung either.

Haeyoung stood frozen, glaring at the ball rolling away like it had a grudge against her.

“…I think it hates me.”

“I’ll get it!”

Seeing her friend bite her lip in frustration, Chakyung gave a sympathetic laugh and went after the ball.

“Ugh, what is wrong with my coordination…”

Haeyoung muttered as she massaged her temple—when suddenly,

Thud!

“Ack!”

A basketball hit the back of her head hard, and she collapsed to the floor with a yelp.

Chakyung, returning with the ball, rushed over in panic.

“Haeyoung! Are you okay?!”

“Ugh… that really hurt…”

Haeyoung groaned as she rubbed the back of her head.

Her skull throbbed from the impact of the hard basketball.

Massaging the sore spot, she slowly got up—and then a voice she didn’t want to hear pierced her eardrums.

“Oh no, sorry! I guess my pass was a little strong.”

“…It’s you again, Gaenari?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t make it sound like I’m always picking on you.”

Gaenari, surrounded by her usual posse, covered her mouth in fake surprise.

Haeyoung gave her a long, cold glare.

It had been quiet since the tteokbokki shop incident—but here she was again, starting trouble.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Don’t make baseless accusations, okay? I was just practicing. Dil-i-gent-ly.”

The way she said it—staccato and smug—made Haeyoung’s blood boil.

“What can I say? I’m just too good at passing.”

“……”

“Or maybe your head is just too big, and the ball happened to hit it.”

“Why you—!”

Her voice, sweet and fake, only confirmed she had done it on purpose.

Furious, Haeyoung snatched the ball from Chakyung’s hands.

“Do I look like some pushover to you?!”

She aimed straight for Gaenari’s temple.

Haeyoung had never been good at throwing, bouncing, or catching—but maybe anger brought out her hidden talents.

Fueled by pure adrenaline, she hurled the ball—landing it squarely on the side of Gaenari’s head.

Eyes wide with fury, Gaenari charged at her.

“You psycho! How dare you hit my head?!”

“I told you—if someone messes with me, I’ll return it exactly the same!”

“You little—!”

Gaenari lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Haeyoung’s hair.

Not backing down, Haeyoung grabbed Gaenari’s scalp with both hands.

“Oh no you don’t! You think only you have hands?! I’ve got two too!”

As the two girls began yanking each other’s hair like mortal enemies, their classmates swarmed around them.

“Whoa, whoa!”

“AAAH!”

It was chaos. They clung and screamed, kicking and pulling.

No one dared intervene—the intensity scared even the bravest students.

“Let go!”

“You let go first!”

“Okay, on three! One, two, three!”

They shouted together—yet neither let go.

“AAAGH!”

“YAAAH!”

Instead, they pulled harder.

By the time their scalps started to tingle with pain and hair loss became a genuine concern—

“WHAT are you two doing?!”

The gym teacher finally appeared, wielding her three-section massage stick like a weapon.

“A fight during class? Are you serious?!”

Only then did the two let go, glaring and panting, their hair a wild mess.

“You two. Up front. Now.”

The teacher pointed to the space before her like a battle commander.

Haeyoung and Gaenari shuffled forward without a word.

“Why were you fighting?”

Her voice was cold with barely suppressed rage.

Gaenari spoke first.

“Teacher… she hit me on the head… with a basketball…”

She even managed to squeeze out a single tear for added effect.

“But I was just practicing… sniffle”

So dramatic, even though she had been the one to charge like an angry bull moments ago.

Haeyoung narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

She couldn’t let this stand.

“Teacher! She threw the basketball at the back of my head first!”

As Haeyoung began defending herself, the teacher cut in.

“Okay, so it sounds like this was a misunderstanding—”

“No, she—!”

She hit me first, I swear!

Haeyoung swallowed the truth rising in her throat.