Arranged Marriage | Hwang Hyunjin ✔️

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C H A P T E R 1

I gripped my schedule and looked at the building in front of me. I was already getting stared at and I knew why. In Korea, there was mostly Koreans living here and when they seen foreigners, I think they were just curious. I had only seen one other colored person and I'd been here for maybe three weeks.

But today was the first day of school. My mother said I would be meeting the boy I will be marrying today after school. I sighed and let my feet carry me into the school. The students were buzzing and laughing, full of excitement. I on the other hand was the complete opposite.

I gripped the straps of my bag and looked at the room numbers and was thankful when I seen the English language plastered on a lot of things. It's not that I couldn't read the numbers, I just didn't want to have to second guess myself.

I wasn't an expert on this language but I picked up a lot during the summer, especially with the consistent tutoring.

I walked into the classroom and sat in my seat. I felt tense and I couldn't seem to relax, so I put earbuds in my ears. More teenagers started to fill the room and the day seemed to go on and no one had talked to me. I had received a few stares and I heard a couple remarks about my skin, some good and bad.

I sat at a lunch table by myself, and I looked at my lunchbox. My mother had packed traditional Indian food.

Aloo Gobi (Potato and cauliflower) and Flat bread.  Lots of carbs but this meal was actually so good. I sighed, would I get made fun of for eating this? I zipped my lunchbox and pulled my phone out.

I heard someone cough and I looked up. It was a very handsome tall Korean boy. His hair was different from most. It was a bit longer, it went behind his ears, it was blonde, but his eyes were beautiful, they were dark but the shape of them made me envious. His lips, most definitely full and plump. His cheek bones were full, yet, masculine and his jawline was extremely prominent.

"Yes?" I asked in Korean. He cocked his head, staring at me, "You're in my seat..." he trailed, quite rudely. I frowned and looked at the empty table, "Your seat?" I asked and he nodded.

"The entire table is empty," I countered. He sat down, "This is my table," he said, picking up his chopsticks, "Leave," he continued. My eyes went wide and his eyes snapped toward mine, watching my movements.

"Excuse me?" I asked taken back. He stirred his thick Japanese noodles. He sighed and put his chopsticks down and turned my way, "Did I stutter?" He asked and I found it hard not to beat this boy.

It is my first day and I'm pretty sure the school has a no tolerance policy for fighting, so I refrained from kicking his behind. I turned away from him, deciding to ignore him. After a couple of seconds, he coughed and I raised my eyebrows, offering him an irritated non-toothy smile, "Yes?" I asked again.

"Did you hear me?" He asked and I nodded, "Yes, but you're not going to treat me like that,"  I said pointedly. He stared at me, and let out a huff, "Leave or-" I cut him off.

"Or what?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, challenging the boy.

He chuckled bitterly, "Or I'll pour these noodles...," he paused, lifting them up and with his free hand, pointing at my lap, "On your skirt."

I chuckled incredulously, "You wouldn't," I said. He sighed, "I warned you," he replied, and before I knew it he was pouring them onto my uniform. I gasped and I felt eyes on me and I knew the entire lunch room had witnessed this tragedy.

"Are you serious?" I growled out. He smirked slightly and his eyes found mine, "I told you," he said, turning back in his seat. This boy is no longer beautiful but an asshole. He reminded me of the mean girls back at home but they never did anything like this. I wanted to use the joke of shoving makeup down his throat so he would be pretty inside too but he didn't seem to wear any.

"Okay," I said picking up the pile of noodles in my lap. He looked at me and threw them on top his head and his mouth went wide and for some reason, I heard a couple of gasp throughout the room from this but no one had a reaction when it was me. I smiled at him, smoothing down my wet skirt, and I stood up with my bag and lunchbox,  "Tables yours, you jerk," I said, walking out of the lunchroom feeling adrenaline fill my body.

Gosh, I hated this place already. I missed my friend's in Chicago. No one treated had ever poured something on me. Whoever he was... he was a self entitled little asshole.

I shook my head as I walked to the bathroom gripping my bag in anger and decided to try to clean off my skirt as best as I could. The time went by rather slow and I was glad I could go back to class. Sadly, I realized the boy from lunch was in here.

His hair was wet and I came to the conclusion that he rinsed his hair out. I couldn't lie either, his hair looked good even when it was wet.

I don't think he saw me when he walked in, and I was thankful for that because I didn't want to have to talk to him anymore. I just couldn't wait to get home and scarf my food down without feeling judged.