Second First Impression Chapter 1

I went back to the day he confessed to me.

He was lounging on the sofa, one leg casually crossed over the other, a newly lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.

His gaze swept lazily across the room before landing on the figure huddled in the corner.

“Her, then.”

In the sudden silence, his voice was pitched just right—not too loud, not too soft—and dripping with casual indifference.

“Hey. I like you.”

And just like that, I was back in that moment.

* * *

The private lounge was a chaotic blur of noise and flashing lights, the air thick with the cloying mix of smoke and spilled liquor.

“Alright, everyone, quiet down! Time for Jason’s dare!”

A buzz-cut guy from the card table stood up, holding a card aloft. He read from it dramatically, “Find any woman in this room…” He paused, his voice climbing with excitement, “and confess your love to her!”

“Damn, Jason only lost one round and the dare is this intense?”

“But his actual target isn’t even here. Who’s he supposed to confess to?”

A murmur rippled through the room. Amidst the chaos, the boy on the sofa remained the sole point of stillness, leaning back with a lazy grace and lighting a cigarette as if he were the only one there.

“Jason, shouldn’t you wait for Lana…”

He lifted his gaze just slightly, and the room fell silent. The jokes, the whispers, the arguments—all of it evaporated.

It was as if he couldn’t even be bothered to fully open his eyes. His gaze drifted for a second before settling, with deliberate carelessness, on the darkest corner of the room.

“Her, then.”

He tilted his chin, his voice a familiar, lazy drawl that was laced with a flippant sort of cruelty.

“Hey. I like you.”

I was back.