Irresistibly Yours ⚊ Nishimura Riki [ Sequel ]

✗ prologue ✗

⚊ prologue

I was seven when I met Hirota Riki—or as I’ve always called him, Maki. He wasn’t just some ordinary childhood memory; he was the memory. The loud, tantrum-throwing boy who taught me two very important things:

1. Boys are a different species altogether.

2. That other species like them can sometimes be... annoyingly attractive.

It started on a hot summer afternoon when a moving truck pulled up next door to my aunt’s house, where I’ve lived since forever. I remember peeking through the window, the curtain clutched in my little hand as box after box was unloaded.

Then, there he was.

A boy with messy hair storming out of the van like his life had been ruined.

“This is ridiculous!” he shouted, stomping his foot for emphasis. “Why are we leaving Japan?! This is the worst decision you’ve ever made!”

Then, to really drive the point home, he chucked a dinosaur plushie onto the sidewalk like it had personally offended him.

I laughed. Loudly. So loudly that I woke up my older cousin, Sunghoon, who was sprawled on the couch next to me.

“What’s so funny?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Before I could answer, the boy outside froze mid-rant and whipped his head in my direction. His glare could’ve melted the sun.

And what did I do? I gave him a big, obnoxious grin and a peace sign.

He looked like he wanted to climb through the window and throttle me.

Later that day, when my aunt dragged me to meet our new neighbors, I was still pouting about being forced to leave the comfort of my couch.

I didn’t want to meet “the nice Japanese family next door.” I wanted to sit in front of the fan and eat the popsicle Sunghoon promised me earlier. But no, there I was, standing awkwardly in the middle of their yard, clutching my aunt’s hand while she exchanged polite hellos.

Then I spotted him. The boy with the messy brown hair and fiery temper who’d thrown his dinosaur onto the sidewalk earlier.

Maki, based on my Aunt's knowledge.

He was sitting cross-legged in a sandbox, digging furiously with a little plastic shovel, his back to us. I don’t know what possessed me to walk over to him.

Maybe I thought we could start fresh, be civil. Maybe I thought I could be nice.

“Hi!” I chirped, bending down to his level. “I’m Minji. You’re Maki, right?”

He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down like I was some bug he’d just found under a rock. “Why are you here?”

I blinked. Not exactly the warm welcome I was expecting. “I live next door. My aunt wanted to say hi.”

“Go away.”

“Wow, you’re really bad at this neighbor thing, huh?” I quipped, crossing my arms.

That’s when he grabbed a handful of sand from the box and dumped it right on my head.

I froze. The audacity of this boy.

“Maki!” his mom shouted from the porch, horrified.

But it was too late. The damage was done.

“You little gremlin!” I screeched, lunging at him.

What followed was pure chaos. I tackled him into the sandbox, and we rolled around like two feral cats, screaming and flinging sand at each other.