Page 37 of Wicked Fox

“If I listen to music, I can’t hear what other people are talking about.”

“So you spy on people?” she asked.

“I don’t make them talk about their private life in public.”

“Creep,” Miyoung muttered.

Jihoon shrugged. “You have a funny way of saying thank you.”

“For what?”

“They stopped gossiping. When they think you can’t hear, they lose interest.”

Miyoung stared at him so long he felt the urge to fidget. “You say that like you have experience with it.”

“You say that like you care if I do,” Jihoon said as the next bus rolled to a stop in front of them.

Miyoung’s lip curled before she boarded the bus.

She took a seat in the back and Jihoon slid in beside her. She scowled, but didn’t protest.

“Why did you let those kids talk about you?” Jihoon asked. “You could have taken them.”

“If I cause a scene, they’ll start to pay more attention to me.” Jihoon lifted a brow. It seemed they had something in common, a need for privacy. He tucked that tidbit away to chew on later.

“Thank you.” The words were almost lost among the rumble of the bus and the chatter of the other passengers.

“What?” Jihoon asked, leaning closer.

“If you didn’t hear, then I’m not repeating it,” Miyoung said.

“You’re welcome,” Jihoon said. “It was no problem. I’m good at avoiding negative attention.”

Miyoung studied him, her eyes so dark and direct that he wanted to lean away. “Oddly, I think I believe that.”

The pitying look made Jihoon squirm. To combat the nervous tension in his shoulders, he stretched out like he had not a care in the world, draping his arm across the back of the seat in a leisurely sprawl. “So what do you usually do after school?” He gave a cheeky grin that he knew would deepen his dimples.

She didn’t answer and slid her eyes toward his hand, almost touching her shoulder. He retracted his arm for fear she’d rip it off.

“I usually go to the PC room,” he said. “Do you play L-o-L?”

Miyoung stared out the window, ignoring him.

That just made Jihoon more determined to get a reaction outof her. “One of my favorite champions is Ahri.” Jihoon chuckled. “If you played, you’d get the joke.” He leaned in and said in a stage whisper, “She’s a gumiho.”

Miyoung glared at him. Jihoon grinned. She continued to glower, unmoved by his best weapon. His smile wavered. “Do you really not do anything for fun? Sports? Knitting? Ancient tea ceremonies?”

“I don’t do things for fun,” she said.

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

Jihoon shrugged. “Because it looks like you could use a friend.”

“I don’t need friends,” Miyoung muttered.

“Everyone needs friends,” Jihoon countered, despite the frown Miyoung gave him.

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