best worst match ➵ park jongseong

chapter 6

Chapter Six: “Close Encounters of the Worst Kind”

Min Aeri’s POV

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I’m running late to the community center, dodging people on the sidewalk like it’s an Olympic sport. Today, we’re supposed to run some games for the kids, and if there’s one thing I don’t trust Jay with, it’s anything involving children. He’ll either forget half the instructions or accidentally teach them sarcasm as a second language.

I finally burst through the doors and find Jay already surrounded by a small army of kids, who are staring at him like he’s the world’s worst superhero.

“Alright, who’s ready for ‘Blindfold Obstacle Course’?” he announces, holding up a blindfold with all the enthusiasm of a used car salesman. The kids look a little unsure, and honestly, so am I.

I step up, crossing my arms. “Jay, do you even know how to run an obstacle course?”

He grins. “Of course I do. Just follow the sound of my charming voice, kids. Easy peasy.”

I stifle a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re going to scar these kids for life.”

He leans in, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “If I do, that’s on you. You’re the one who showed up late, partner.”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the way his voice sends a shiver down my spine. This isn’t a rom-com, and I refuse to get all heart-eyed over some guy who thinks yelling “trust fall” makes him a leader.

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Let the Games Begin (Sort of)

The kids, surprisingly, start warming up to Jay, especially when he bribes them with candy for completing each obstacle. We end up partnering up to guide the kids through the course, me on one side and Jay on the other, passing kids back and forth like some bizarre relay race. At some point, I swear he tries to trip me, but I catch myself just in time.

After a round of awkward teamwork and Jay’s questionable guidance, we wrap things up, the kids heading off with big grins. I find myself almost… enjoying working with him. Almost.

“Not bad, Min Aeri,” he says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, looking way too smug for my liking. “Maybe you’re not totally hopeless.”

I roll my eyes. “High praise coming from someone who almost turned the obstacle course into an injury zone.”

“Hey, the kids loved it,” he counters, shrugging. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I heard one of them call me ‘cool.’”

I snort. “Pretty sure that was in your imagination.”

He smirks, stepping a little closer, and I feel the room suddenly shrink. “Oh, come on, admit it—you were kind of impressed.”

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to back down. “You know what? I actually was.”

His smirk widens, and for a split second, I think he’s going to say something cocky, but he just stands there, looking at me with this intense, unreadable expression. I’m caught in it, and it feels like an eternity, even though it’s only a moment. Why does he have to look at me like that?

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Awkward Break for Coffee

By some unspoken agreement, we head to the small coffee stand near the community center. Jay orders some overly sweet, sugar-laden drink that would probably give me a headache just from smelling it.

“That’s practically dessert,” I comment, watching him stir in even more sugar.

He shrugs. “Guess I’ve just got a sweeter taste than you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Or you’re just compensating for your bitter personality.”

He laughs, a real laugh, and for a second, I find myself smiling along with him. Dangerous territory, Aeri. Don’t get sucked in by the smile. But the damage is done; there’s a spark, something that I’m not ready to admit is mutual.

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The “Almost” Confession

Later, we’re sorting through a pile of donated books in the corner of the center. Jay picks up an ancient, faded romance novel with a smirk.

“This one’s probably right up your alley, huh?” he teases, waggling his eyebrows.

“Please,” I scoff, snatching it from him. “If anything, it’d be in your genre. All drama, no substance.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest in mock hurt. “I’ll have you know, I’m a man of depth.”

“Says the guy who’s idea of depth is adding extra sugar to coffee.”

He laughs, and just as I’m about to toss the book back, he catches my wrist, his hand warm against my skin. I freeze, looking up to find his gaze locked on mine, softer than I’ve ever seen it.

“Aeri,” he says, voice just above a whisper. There’s something in the way he says my name, something that feels dangerously close to a confession.

I clear my throat, pulling my hand free. “If you’re about to make some sappy speech, I’m warning you, I’ll walk out of here.”

He lets go, but there’s that playful smirk again, and he leans back. “Relax. I was just going to say… you’re not as terrible as I thought.”

“Wow,” I deadpan. “With praise like that, how will I ever contain my excitement?”

He laughs, but there’s something lingering in his eyes, like he’s holding back a truth he’s not ready to share. And as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me wishes he’d say whatever it is.

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The Almost-Maybe Date

As we’re leaving, he offers to walk me home. I almost decline, but then I catch his expression, and it’s strangely earnest, like he actually cares. So, against my better judgment, I agree, mentally preparing a list of snarky responses just in case he tries anything.

The walk is quiet at first, almost awkward, and I hate that I’m overthinking every step, every glance. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“So… why do you want this scholarship so badly?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious.

I hesitate, then shrug. “Same reason you do, probably. Prove something to myself. Maybe to everyone else.”

He nods, and for once, he doesn’t have a sarcastic comeback. Just a quiet understanding that feels… almost comforting.

“You’re not as bad as I thought, Aeri,” he says softly, echoing his earlier words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I roll my eyes, shoving him playfully. “Don’t get used to this. This whole ‘bonding’ thing ends as soon as we’re back in the center tomorrow.”

He laughs, and there’s a part of me that hates how much I like the sound. But when we reach my building, he pauses, hesitating like he has more to say.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, running a hand through his hair, looking for all the world like he’s trying to keep himself from saying something that’ll make things complicated.

“Yeah,” I reply, trying to sound indifferent. “Tomorrow.”

And as he walks away, I can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this rivalry is turning into something a little more dangerous.

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End of Chapter Six