Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Classroom

The teacher was going through an analysis segment while I was busy outlining a mind map for my assignment.

As soon as the dismissal bell rang, I grabbed my textbooks and notes and hurried out to grab a bite with my bestie. But in my haste, I forgot that Brayden had a class next door.

At that moment, they were heading in my direction, waving from a distance. I stood on the stairs, and my heart sank. If they met, my bestie's loose lips would get me into hot water.

I quickened my pace but ended up bumping into someone, causing my textbooks and notes to scatter all over the floor.

I hurriedly picked them up, one by one.

"Thank you," I said as someone handed me a few sheets of paper and helped me up, preventing me from getting trampled by the crowd. But why did this feel so familiar?

I looked up. It was Brayden.

I looked down. He was holding my notes.

On the top sheet, in big letters, was written "Male Supporting Character Brayden," with a mind map branching out from his name, detailing various aspects of the male supporting character.

Time seemed to slow down a thousandfold.

My gaze darted between the notes and Brayden's eyes. His eyes, so captivating, were filled with nothing but melancholy.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong," I stammered.

Just a few days ago, I had been so confident, but now I felt my face burning with embarrassment. I didn't even want the notes back.

Clutching my textbook tightly, I ran toward my bestie. Grabbing her hand, we weaved through the crowd.

Finally, we broke free and I could breathe again.

That night, I lay in my dorm room, replaying the events in my mind. My initial direct approach had failed; my attempt to win him over with friendship had crumbled halfway, and my bold face-to-face confrontation had ended in disaster.

The few social blunders I had made exploded in my mind, making me blush like a tomato, squirming on my bed in embarrassment.

For the next few days, I avoided him. I even removed everything related to him from my research materials.

But why, the more I tried to avoid him, did he keep appearing like a bad penny?

I encountered various combinations of the trio more often than when I had deliberately tried to meet them.

And every time I saw Brayden, he seemed even more like the melancholic male supporting character. Poor guy, he looked so pitiful.

My heart, which ached for the male supporting character, began to stir.

I repeatedly turned my computer on and off, staring at the draft of my assignment. It contained the surveys I had collected about the male supporting character and some interviews with others.

After all, completion is more important than perfection.

No, that's not right. Why settle for good when you can be perfect? It's like dangling a carrot in front of a horse.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in my head.

I seemed to have found another way, a way to achieve both goals.

What's most important to the male supporting character? The female protagonist, of course!

I edited a message to him:

"Hey, I'll help you win the female protagonist! You can be my research material!"

The female protagonist is really handy.

The next day, I met Brayden at Starbucks.

He frowned, looking puzzled. "Is that assignment really that important? Important enough to organize dozens of megabytes of tips on how to pursue a girl and send them to me overnight?"

I stood up, leaning on the table, and got in his face.

"Just tell me, are you interested or not?"

He fell silent, slightly raising his chin to look up at me. Our eyes locked, and tension filled the air.

In moments of extreme nervousness, random thoughts always popped into my head. Was my makeup caked? Were my double eyelid tapes coming off? Had my false eyelashes fallen off? Was my lipstick smudged?

To boost my confidence, I had dressed up fully, wearing a light yellow dress and letting my hair down in soft waves.

My bestie had said, "Leanna, no man can resist you like this."

But I knew it. My charms don't work on someone else's guy.

I couldn't read the complex expression on his face.

Third time's the charm. He probably thought I was overestimating myself and being ridiculous.

I took a few sips of my iced Americano, planning to find an excuse to leave. Then, we'd never have to see each other again.

Just as I was gulping down my drink to hide my embarrassment, a somewhat awkward voice broke the silence.

"Slow down. How about we talk specifics first?"

Oh wow, my eyes lit up again.