─── : ̗̀➛ SUMMARY: Your monotonous routine takes an unexpected turn when a mysterious pink-haired boy and his fast red car cross your path.
⭑.ᐟ ⇢ ˗ˏˋLEE HEESEUNG (이희승) X READER࿐ྂ I ( wc 5573) racer!heeseung teasing romance fluff/cute content suggestive content
The night shift at the café wasn’t your favorite, yet it was the one you were most often assigned to—unfortunately.
Not only did you have to deal with rude customers in the afternoon, but you also had to clean up the mess they left behind and make sure everything was spotless so the morning shift could open without a hitch. All they had to do was unlock the doors; everything would already be in its place, thanks to you.
Your two other coworkers would leave the moment they saw no more customers coming in, abandoning you completely alone.
As you scrubbed the wooden tables, wiping away stubborn coffee stains, you glanced through the café’s large windows.
The wide, gloomy avenue where the café was located was dimly lit by scattered streetlights. A few people hurried down the sidewalks, eager to get home after a long workday, most likely to be greeted warmly by their families.
Having a family was what you envied most about others. After your long shifts, no one was waiting for you at home with a steaming homemade meal or a comforting embrace.
The closest thing you had to family was a dog you had adopted a few months ago. You had found him wandering the streets one night on your way home from work. The poor thing had been filthy and terrified, but he quickly warmed up to you, always showing immense gratitude.
The little furball would greet you with overwhelming excitement, wagging his tail and rolling onto his back for belly rubs. After that, he’d dash to his food bowl, demanding dinner. No matter how tough your day had been, he always managed to bring a smile to your face.
The café was finally spotless—tables gleamed, floors shone, coffee supplies were neatly organized, machines were spotless and dry, disposable cups were stacked in a corner, and the cash register was securely closed.
The café’s lights flickered off behind you as you quickly locked the door, not forgetting to set the alarm. Adjusting your bag strap over your shoulder, you stepped onto the deserted avenue, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the pavement.
You kept your eyes fixed on the ground, clutching your bag tightly, until a thunderous noise shattered the night’s silence. A powerful engine roar rumbled from the top of the street, making you snap your head up.
Two sports cars tore through the empty avenue at a reckless speed. One was black, the other red, both gliding like shadows under the streetlights. From the red car, deafening music blasted, shaking the windows of the parked cars around.
Suddenly, the driver of the red car turned his head slightly toward you and, without slowing down, called out with an exhilarated laugh:
His voice, dripping with adrenaline, was swallowed by the roar of the engine and the pounding music as his car sped down the street. You didn’t even have time to react—just a split second to process what had happened before both cars vanished into the distance, leaving behind the lingering echoes of their engines and the sharp scent of burnt rubber.
The street fell back into an eerie silence, as if nothing had happened. Yet, your heart was still racing.
You hadn’t managed to see the face of the bold stranger who had shouted at you. The only thing you caught was a flash of bright pink hair—an unusual color for someone to have.
When you finally reached your apartment, tiny barks greeted you, filled with boundless joy. Your home, bathed in nighttime darkness, felt quieter than ever.
You weren’t in the mood to cook anything at that hour, so you scooped up little Coco in your arms and carried him to your room, placing him on your bed. He curled into a ball almost instantly.
Heading to the bathroom, you gently removed your makeup with a cotton pad, careful not to irritate your eyes. Your nighttime routine was always the same—remove makeup, brush your teeth, do your skincare, and go to bed with your loyal companion.
Your days were always the same, monotonous and repetitive. The only thing that changed was the customers you served at the café. But at the end of the day, the only one who was truly there for you was Coco.
Another day at the café, filled with rude customers—though some weren’t so bad. It was around five-thirty in the afternoon, and today, you were behind the counter preparing coffee instead of working the cash register, where people would toss their money at you as if they couldn’t care less. Or worse, those who, after you patiently explained five times that what they were asking for wasn’t on the menu, would get angry and start yelling at you, as if it were somehow your fault—all while you were just a simple employee.
You sighed in frustration as you finished making a macchiato to go, carefully placing the lid on the white disposable cup to prevent any spills. Then, you walked over to the pickup counter, where a few customers were waiting.
“Heeseung?” you called out, reading the name written on the cup. You set it down on the counter and reached under it to grab two small sugar packets, placing them next to the coffee.
“That’s me, thanks” a man’s voice responded in front of you. He took his order along with the sugar packets, and you went back to work without paying him much attention.
But then, the same voice called out to you again from behind.
“Could I get another sugar packet?” the guy asked.
You didn’t respond, simply grabbed another packet along with a small wooden stir stick—which you had forgotten to give him earlier—so he could mix the sugar into his coffee.
As you returned to the pickup counter, you extended your hand toward him, lifting your gaze in the process.
Standing in front of you was a guy around your age, or maybe a few years older. His eyes were framed by smudged black eyeliner, as if he had rubbed them to blend it out. He was handsome, with striking facial features and a tall frame—but what stood out the most was his hair.
In your twenty years of living in the city, you had never seen anyone with that hair color before. And if someone had it, they definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed.
It didn’t take much to put two and two together—this had to be the same guy who had sped past you in his red car last night, shouting “gorgeous” as he disappeared down the avenue.
It was also pretty obvious that he had only called out to you because he was bold and reckless. He didn’t seem to recognize you—or maybe he just didn’t care. But that was unlikely, considering how dark it had been last night and how fast he had been driving. There was no way he could have actually seen your face.
At least now, the shameless guy had both a face and a name—Heeseung.
The rest of the afternoon at the café wasn’t as hectic as usual. The usual rush had its moments, but nothing too overwhelming. You had managed to keep up with the orders without too many customers being unnecessarily rude or impatient. That alone felt like a small victory.
That was until one particular incident disrupted the relative peace.
You were wiping down the counter when a loud clatter startled you. You snapped your head in the direction of the noise just in time to see a customer stumbling back, their coffee splattered all over the floor. The disposable cup rolled across the tiles, leaving a messy trail of liquid in its wake.
The man—who had been too distracted looking at his phone—had walked straight into the edge of a table, making the hot coffee spill all over his shirt and the floor beneath him.
"Shit" he hissed, shaking his hands as if that would somehow undo the damage.
You quickly grabbed a mop and a roll of paper towels, already dreading the cleanup.
"Are you okay, sir?" you asked, glancing at his soaked shirt.
His frustration was evident, though he seemed more annoyed than in pain. "No, I’m not! Look at this mess!" he barked, gesturing at his ruined shirt as if it were somehow your fault.
You suppressed a sigh and forced a polite smile. "I can get you some napkins. There’s also a restroom right over there if you need to clean up."
But instead of appreciating the help, he scoffed. "That’s not what I need! I need a new coffee. For free."
You blinked. "Sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t give out free replacements unless it was a mistake on our end."
"It wasn’t my fault!" he snapped. "That table was in the way!"
You clenched your jaw. The table had been there all day, unmoved. It wasn’t as if it had suddenly appeared out of nowhere just to trip him up. But you knew better than to argue with a customer like this.
"I’m really sorry, but I can’t do that" you repeated, keeping your voice steady.
His face twisted in anger. "This is bullshit. You should at least take responsibility. What kind of place is this?"
At this point, a few customers were glancing over, their curiosity piqued by the commotion. Your patience was wearing thin, but you still tried to remain professional. "If you’d like, I can offer you a discount on a new drink" you suggested, hoping to de-escalate the situation.
But he scoffed again, shaking his head. "Forget it" he muttered, throwing the soaked napkins onto the table before storming out of the café.
You exhaled slowly, gripping the mop handle a little too tightly.
After cleaning up the mess—both the spilled coffee and the lingering tension from the encounter—you focused on finishing your shift. The rest of the evening went by without much trouble. You wiped down the counters, stacked the cups, ensured all the machines were cleaned and powered down, and finally locked up the café.
But the frustration still clung to you like a second skin.
Instead of heading straight home, you made a sudden decision.
So, instead of walking in the usual direction toward your apartment, you turned down a different street, heading toward a bar you had passed by countless times but had never actually stepped into.
The neon sign above the entrance flickered slightly, casting a soft glow on the pavement. The hum of music seeped through the walls, promising a temporary escape from reality.
As you pushed the door open, you were greeted by the low buzz of conversations, the occasional clink of glasses, and the faint scent of liquor and citrus. The atmosphere was a mix of lively and relaxed—exactly what you needed.
You slid onto a barstool and exhaled, finally allowing yourself to let go of the stress from earlier.
A bartender, a woman with short dark hair and a knowing smile, approached. "Rough day?" she asked, wiping down the counter in front of you.
"You have no idea," you muttered, resting your elbows on the bar.
She chuckled. "Well, in that case, what’ll it be?"
You thought for a moment before deciding. "Something strong."
The bartender nodded in understanding. "Coming right up."
As you waited for your drink, you let yourself relax for the first time that evening. The café, the rude customer, the endless routine of your days—it all felt distant now, drowned out by the steady rhythm of the music and the comforting anonymity of the bar.
For once, you weren’t just the tired barista at the café.
You were just another person in a bar, looking for a moment of peace.
Peace that was quickly interrupted by a guy who sat on the barstool beside you. He watched you from above as you took a sip of the drink the short-haired girl had prepared for you—a strong yet sweet mix that spread over your tongue and left its warmth down your throat.
"I heard you had a bad day," the guy beside you started what seemed to be a friendly conversation. Not that you really cared. You had come here to unwind and leave the day behind, not with the intention of going home with company for an even better time. But there was no harm in talking to someone who, for the first time in days, actually seemed nice to you.
"Yeah, working in a café isn’t as easy as it sounds, no matter how silly that may seem" you replied, your gaze fixed on your hand as you swirled your glass in slow circles, watching the liquid move along with it.
"I worked in one once. Quit after a month" the guy said, his rough voice carrying an amused tone. You found it funny, letting out a small chuckle, almost like a huff.
"And what do you do now?" you asked, finally lifting your eyes to look at him.
The guy in front of you had an imposing presence, nearly impossible to ignore. His straight black hair, slightly messy, framed his sharp features and intense eyes that seemed almost hypnotic. His pale skin contrasted against his dark and rebellious style, further enhancing his aura of danger and mystery.
One detail stood out in particular: a piercing on his eyebrow, a small metallic ring gleaming under the dim bar lights, adding an extra bold touch to his look.
His outfit was just as striking. He wore a sleeveless black leather jacket, adorned with patches and bold lettering, including a noticeable tag with white text and the name of a well-known brand. Underneath, he had on a black graphic T-shirt with sharp, jagged lettering and prints that screamed rock or metal culture.
He leaned against the bar, resting both elbows on the surface, tilting slightly toward you as if what he was about to say was a secret meant only for the two of you.
"I take part in illegal street races" he whispered, a smirk curling onto his pale lips, his eyes narrowing slightly with amusement.
Your expression must have been entertaining to him because, suddenly, he let out a deep, rich laugh, pulling back to his original position, still grinning.
"I don't believe you, you're playing with me," was your response to his laughter. The guy was definitely messing with you. The city was quiet, and you had never heard of these races. Although, it made sense that you hadn’t since they were illegal, meaning no one openly talked about them if they were involved.
"You really don't believe me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and looking in your direction with an amused expression.
You quickly shook your head, finishing the last of your drink and placing the glass back on the bar.
"I'm going to show you, then." His tone was challenging, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he was enjoying the idea of proving you wrong.
"You'll have to get up, sweetheart," he added with a half-smile as he stood up and grabbed his keys from his jacket.
You stared at him for a few seconds, evaluating whether following him was really a good idea. You didn’t know him, and the last thing you wanted was to end up in a compromising situation. However, there was something about his attitude, the confidence with which he carried himself, that made you feel he wasn’t just showing off.
And before you knew it, you had already left your stool and were standing in front of him. You rolled your eyes—more at yourself than at him—and let out a sigh before grabbing your bag.
Outside, the night air had cooled since you arrived, and the streets were quiet, with only a few people walking along the sidewalk and the occasional car passing by. The guy pulled a small remote from his pocket and pressed a button.
A few meters away, a black car with white details lit up as its headlights flashed and let out a soft beep. This wasn’t just any car. Its aggressive design, rear spoiler, and aerodynamic features made it clear that it was built for speed.
"Get in," he said, opening the passenger door for you, his hand resting on the frame, effectively trapping you between his body and the car.
"Do you seriously expect me to just get in like that?" you looked up at him, tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze. The guy was nearly a head taller than you.
"If you really wanted to leave, you would've done it already," he replied with a shrug, a smug smile spreading across his face.
You didn’t have a good comeback for that. So, with one last sigh, you got into the car, immediately noticing the scent of leather and gasoline mixed with a faint hint of his cologne.
When he settled into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine, a deep roar filled the air, vibrating through your chest. He glanced at you with a knowing look before stepping on the accelerator.
They sped down the street like lightning, the guy clearly intending to give you a taste of what a real race felt like. With your eyes wide open from the fear of crashing into another car, you turned to look at him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the road, a wide smirk on his face.
With your right hand, you gripped the car door tightly, fearing for your life—and, even though you didn’t know him, for your companion’s life as well. The slight buzz from the alcohol had completely left your system the moment the car took off, replaced by a mix of euphoria, adrenaline, and fear.
"I'm going to die at the hands of someone whose name I don’t even know," you shouted over the deafening roar of the engine, faking a melodramatic sob while keeping a tight grip on the handle and your eyes glued to the road ahead.
"You're not going to die, idiot," the guy replied beside you, letting out a scoff, as if your lack of trust in him—a total stranger, mind you—actually offended him. "And my name is NIKI."
The roar of the engine and the speed at which the car glided through the streets made your heart pound wildly. Niki seemed completely in his element, his hands steady on the wheel and an almost exhilarated look in his eyes as he drove.
With every sharp turn and acceleration, the city faded away. The concrete buildings and neon lights disappeared, replaced by darker roads surrounded by trees and empty lots. You realized he was heading toward the outskirts, far from any busy area.
Finally, after several minutes of intense driving, the road opened up into a wide clearing. The lights of other cars illuminated the area, and the sound of engines roaring filled the air. You had arrived at the underground racing meetup Niki had mentioned.
The place was packed with people. Some were gathered in groups, chatting and laughing, while others were checking their cars, making last-minute adjustments before the next race. The atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation and adrenaline.
Niki parked his car in one of the rows and turned off the engine. He turned to you with an amused smile.
"See? You didn’t die," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, adjusting his jacket as he glanced at you.
You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh, though deep down, you couldn’t ignore the thrill you felt.
"What now?" you asked, looking around through the tinted windows of the car.
"Now, we have even more fun," he replied, stepping out.
You got out cautiously, immediately feeling the curious stares of some people on you. It wasn’t hard to tell you were new here—everyone seemed to know each other.
You walked beside Niki as he greeted several people with nods and smirks. Apparently, he was well-known in this scene. As you followed him, your eyes scanned the area, taking in every car and person within sight.
At one point, your gaze landed on a familiar figure just a few meters away.
Your heart did a small flip as you recognized him. He was leaning against a red car, arms crossed over his chest, looking relaxed. He wore a leather jacket and dark jeans with some hand-drawn and painted designs, his pinkish hair slightly tousled by the wind.
There, just a few meters away from you, was Heeseung. It seemed like fate had suddenly placed him in your orbit, making you run into him everywhere.
Your eyes met, and for a moment, you saw one of his eyebrows lift slightly, as if surprised to see you there, as if he somehow recognized you.
Niki noticed the interaction and let out a low chuckle.
"Well, well, looks like you already know someone here," he remarked, slightly surprised, after finishing his conversation with a blond-haired guy.
You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you kept watching Heeseung as he finally pushed himself off the car—his, apparently—and started walking toward you.
When he got close enough, he tilted his head slightly and gave you a small smirk.
"I think I know you, and yet, I’ve never seen you here before" he said playfully, looking down at you with a slight tilt of his head.
"I served you your coffee today" you replied with a polite smile subtly drawn on your face.
Niki looked between the two of you with a knowing smile.
"So, this is the café you were complaining about a few hours ago?" Niki stood beside you, crossing his arms and running his tongue over the inside of his cheek, receiving a nod from you in response.
Heeseung kept his gaze on you for a few seconds before shifting his attention to Niki.
"Did you bring her here?" his eyes flicked to the black-haired boy beside you, one of his eyebrows arching slightly in question.
"Isn't it obvious, man?" Niki responded incredulously, draping one arm over your shoulders and pulling you close to him.
The unexpected gesture made your cheeks automatically flush red. The guy didn't even know you, yet he was hugging you so confidently that it was overwhelming. Was he… trying to mark his territory?
Heeseung let out a small chuckle before shaking his head slightly. Then, he looked at you once more, as if evaluating your reaction to everything that was happening.
"What was your name again?" Niki asked for the first time that night. You looked at him with obvious disbelief and removed his arm from your shoulders.
"My name is Y/N. It's the first time you’re actually asking" you responded to the boy. The pink-haired guy let out a laugh, drawing both of your attention to him.
"The race is about to start in a few minutes. I hope you don't chicken out this time since you have a guest" Heeseung glanced at you briefly with a nod.
Just when the tension between the three of you seemed to rise, a blaring sound shattered the atmosphere.
The echo of police sirens rang through the air, and as if someone had flipped a switch, chaos erupted.
Red and blue lights flashed between the cars, reflecting off the sleek paint of every parked vehicle. The crowd panicked; some ran to their cars to flee, while others simply disappeared into the darkness of the night. Shouts, roaring engines, and screeching tires blended together, turning the scene into utter disorder.
Niki, who had seemed so confident and relaxed just moments ago, cursed under his breath and, without thinking twice, bolted, disappearing into the chaos without even glancing back at you.
"Are you serious?!" you exclaimed, stunned to see him vanish just like that.
Before you could move, you felt a firm hand wrap around your wrist.
Heeseung’s tone left no room for hesitation. He pulled you with force, guiding you through the crowd with surprising precision, dodging people who were running in all directions. Your heart pounded wildly, both from the adrenaline and the uncertainty of not knowing where he was taking you.
Without letting go of your wrist for a second, Heeseung led you straight to his car—an elegant, flashy red vehicle that looked built for speed.
"Get in!" he ordered, already settling into the driver’s seat and starting the engine with a deafening roar.
You didn’t have time to hesitate. As soon as you jumped into the passenger seat and shut the door, the car shot forward at full speed, leaving behind the noise and sirens.
The wind whipped against your face as the nighttime scenery blurred into streaks of colorful lights. Heeseung drove with mastery, weaving through streets and taking sharp turns with impressive precision.
"Do you always do this?" you managed to ask, your breath still uneven.
Heeseung let out a short laugh, keeping his eyes on the road.
"Escaping? It doesn't happen too often, but sometimes we have to switch spots when we get caught" he explained, clearly referring to the police. His gaze remained fixed on the road, hands gripping the wheel tightly from the tension of the situation.
His words lingered in the air as the two of you drove further from the chaos, the city stretching out before you like an endless, lawless playground.
Silence filled the confined space of Heeseung’s racing car. Now that you were back in the city, he had slowed down, though at this hour, the streets were practically deserted. The pink-haired boy, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the rush, was focused on navigating different streets while you stared out the window at the towering buildings.
"Where are we going, Heeseung?" you murmured, exhaustion creeping into your voice. It was late, and whatever little alcohol you had consumed had long since faded from your system.
"For some food. I feel bad that Niki dragged you into this, so it's on me."
"It's really not necessary. Don't worry about me" you said, turning to look at him. Your gaze met his, catching him already glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His dark, lined eyes made him look even more alluring in that moment.
Heeseung didn’t reply and simply kept driving. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of a small convenience store that, except for the employee working inside, was completely empty.
Walking through the aisles of the tiny store, you reluctantly grabbed a pink-packaged ramen and a bottle of water. After picking up your drink from the fridge, you turned to find Heeseung—only to see him holding an absurd amount of snacks: several bags of chips, an instant ramen bowl, a cup of ice, and an energy drink.
You laughed at the sight before you. The guy, who had such a sexy aura, looked so endearing and almost vulnerable in that moment, standing in the middle of a convenience store.
After insisting for a while that he would pay for everything, you both took a seat at the small tables near the window. Your steaming bowls of ramen sat on the table as you ate in comfortable silence, both lost in thought about how the night had led you to this moment.
"Do you wanna try?" Heeseung’s question caught you off guard, pulling you out of your thoughts.
The boy held a bit of his ramen between his wooden chopsticks, carefully bringing it close to you, gently blowing on it to make sure it wasn’t too hot.
You stared at him for a moment before leaning in, slowly bringing your lips toward the food he was offering. The warmth of the ramen filled the air, and there was a tenderness in his gesture that you hadn’t expected from someone who, just hours ago, had been racing through the streets, evading the police.
Parting your lips slightly, you took the bite, letting the intense flavors fill your mouth. It was delicious, but beyond that, what made your heart race was the way Heeseung was watching you.
His gaze remained locked on you, his eyes shining with amusement but also curiosity, as if he was trying to figure out your every reaction.
"Well?" he asked with a small smile, tilting his head.
"It’s really good" you said after swallowing, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly.
Heeseung grinned, satisfied, and took another bite of his ramen, acting as if the moment held no particular significance. Yet, the subtle tension between you lingered in the air, almost tangible.
For a while longer, you both ate in silence, savoring the calm that followed the storm of emotions you had just experienced.
"Actually, the night was kinda fun" you suddenly broke the silence, finishing another bite of your ramen. "I wouldn’t mind if it lasted a little longer" you confessed unexpectedly.
Heeseung froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. With his cheeks still full of ramen, he swallowed quickly before responding.
"You… can come to my place if you want" he said, sounding a little nervous.
The air between you shifted again. Heeseung looked away for a moment, as if realizing the weight of his words only after saying them out loud.
You, on the other hand, watched him with a mix of amusement and intrigue. You hadn’t expected him to get nervous—not after how he had acted the entire night.
"Do you want me to?" you asked with a small smile, testing the waters.
Heeseung cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "Only if you want to" he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away.
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you studied him for a few seconds before taking one last sip of your ramen. Then, setting the empty cup down on the table, you stood up.
He quickly finished his ramen, almost choking in the process, and both of you left the store, heading back to his car and soon to his home.
The boy beside you entered his apartment, which was located a bit far from the city's central area since that neighborhood was one of the most expensive. His home wasn’t too far from the convenience store they had just been at; in fact, Heeseung admitted that he regularly went there because he wasn’t much of a cook.
His apartment had a modern and minimalist style. It was a spacious studio with a small yet cozy kitchen. In the living area, there was a desk with a gaming computer, and beside it, a bookshelf filled with action figures and books.
A large, sleek gray couch framed the living space, facing a mounted LED TV with LED lights decorating its surroundings. On the coffee table, there was an empty bowl of ramen and a magazine about racing cars and engines.
As you took in every corner of his apartment, Heeseung shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall over the back of the couch. Then, he turned toward you with an amused smile.
"Do you like it?" he asked, referring to his home.
"Surprisingly neat for someone who eats ramen every night" you replied with a teasing smile, earning a chuckle from him.
"Well, it’s not like I get many visitors" he commented, slipping his hands into his pockets while looking at you intently.
The atmosphere felt different now. The adrenaline from the night had faded, and the silence that surrounded you both seemed charged with something else. Something electric.
You bit your lip and shifted your gaze toward the bookshelf full of action figures. To ease the nervousness, you walked over to browse, running your fingers along the spines of the books.
"Are you more into reading or gaming?" you asked without turning around.
"It depends. When I need to disconnect, video games. But when I want to completely lose myself, I prefer a good book" he confessed, his voice much closer than you expected.
When you turned around, Heeseung was standing right behind you—close enough that you could feel his breath. Your heart skipped a beat.
"And now… what do you want to do?" he asked in a whisper, his dark eyes flickering between yours and your lips.
It was obvious where this was going. You dared to lift your hand and gently brush against his slightly exposed collarbone, feeling his warm, smooth skin beneath your touch.
"I think that…" you started to say, but your voice trailed off as Heeseung closed the space between you.
His lips met yours softly at first, as if giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to.
You responded to the kiss with the same urgency, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands firmly settled on your waist, trapping you. Your back was pressed against the bookshelf, your chest against his.
The warmth of his body, the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, the way his breath became erratic against your skin… everything made you lose track of time.
No one would have ever believed that the night would end like this—kissing the bold guy who had shouted a compliment at you while speeding past in his car.
In the end, it seemed that someone with pink hair would bring excitement back into your life.
