best worst match ➵ park jongseong

chapter 3

Chapter Three: “Truce (Sort Of)”

Min Aeri’s POV

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When I walk into the community center library on day three, Jay is already there, sprawled on the floor in the middle of a pile of books, looking like he’s setting up for a one-man photoshoot. He’s leaning back against a shelf, arms folded behind his head, eyes closed, like he’s completely at peace amidst the chaos of half-cleaned shelves and scattered dust.

“Nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty,” I say, dropping my backpack with a thud loud enough to make him jolt upright.

“Oh, Aeri,” he sighs dramatically, rubbing his eyes, “your voice is like a gentle alarm clock—one that makes you want to snooze for eternity.”

“Wow, the charm is in full force today,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Tell me, do you practice these lines in the mirror, or is it just natural talent?”

He chuckles, sitting up. “A little bit of both, if you must know.”

I bite back a smile, resisting the urge to laugh. I don’t want him to think he’s actually funny.

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Task of the Day: Painting the Walls

Today, we’re supposed to paint the library walls, a task that seems simple enough—until I realize we’re completely unsupervised with paint and brushes.

Jay grabs a roller, eyes glinting with a look that instantly makes me suspicious. I narrow my eyes at him as he dips the roller in paint, his movements way too relaxed.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn, pointing a paintbrush at him like it’s a weapon.

“What?” he asks innocently, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just here to do my part.”

He slaps the roller against the wall with way more force than necessary, splattering paint on himself—and, unfortunately, on me. A thick line of paint drips down my sleeve, and I freeze, staring at it in horror.

Jay gasps, hand over his mouth in exaggerated shock. “Oh no! Aeri, I am so sorry. My hand just slipped!”

I give him a death glare, trying to ignore the fact that he’s clearly struggling not to laugh.

“Two can play that game, Jongseong,” I mutter, grabbing my brush and flicking it in his direction. A line of green paint splatters across his cheek.

For a second, he just stands there, looking shocked. Then he grins like I’ve issued him a challenge.

“Alright, you asked for it.”

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Thirty Minutes Later

Our “painting” session quickly descends into a full-on war. By the time the dust—or, more accurately, the paint—settles, we’re both covered in splotches of green and blue, and the walls are… well, let's just say our supervisor might be surprised by our “abstract” approach to wall painting.

Jay wipes a smudge of paint from his eyebrow, looking at me with a grin. “You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you actually loosen up.”

“Loosen up? I’ll have you know I’m perfectly loosened,” I retort, crossing my arms, though it’s hard to look intimidating when I’m covered in streaks of paint. “This was me being professional.”