A+ in Trouble || hjs - lmh

71

Minho

I double-checked the time on my phone. 3:17p.m. They should just be on their way to the exit.

Jia sat quietly in the passenger seat, hands fidgeting in her lap. "Are you sure they won't think I'm weird?"

I gave her a gentle smile. "Jisung and Felix? Weird is their first language."

She giggled a little—barely. But it was something.

The last few weeks she'd been opening up. Painfully slowly, but honestly. She had no one to talk to. Her parents would disown her if they found out, she said. She had no friends. She was terrified to exist.

So, I did the only thing I could think of—introduce her to the only two people I knew who didn't care about norms, who broke every rule just by being themselves.

I parked in the campus lot and we headed toward the main courtyard.

And that's when I heard it.

"VELCRO LOOKIN' ASS BITCH—"

"OH MY GOD THE WIND JUST TOOK HER BANGS."

"STOP—STOP—HER WEAVE JUST UNINSTALLED ITSELF!"

I turned the corner.

There they were.

Jisung. Felix. Seungmin. Jeongin.

Full-volume screaming in the middle of campus—people standing around watching like it was an open-mic roast battle.

In the center of it all?

The girl. Shouting back. Shoulders tense. Eyeliner running. Rage written all over her face.

She lunged.

"Oh HELL no," Felix shouted, but she was already grabbing at Jisung's hair like it owed her money.

"LET GO OF ME, EXTENSION WITCH! MY HAIR IS REAL!" Jisung screamed, swinging an arm out, knocking a water bottle across the quad.

Before I could process it, bodies were colliding. Seungmin was yelling something about acrylics being weapons, Jeongin had pulled out his phone yelling "WORLDSTAR,"

I snapped.

"YAH!" I barked, storming forward.

Their heads whipped around.

Jisung froze. His hand still mid-air. Felix had both hands on his hips like he was about to summon a demon. The girl looked ready to kill.

And standing next to me?

Jia. Mortified. Pale. Eyes wide.

"Out. Now." I grabbed Jisung's wrist and started dragging him away, ignoring the whispers, the shocked gasps, the literal crowd that had formed.

He didn't even fight it. Just followed with wide eyes.

Felix ran after us, hissing, "Oh my god, Minho—this is not what it looked like, I swear—"

"I'll deal with you both later," I snapped, my voice low and dangerous.

Behind me, I heard someone yell, "WAIT, IS THAT THE HOT PROFESSOR?"

Her friend—probably, unbothered, replied, "That's his man. Duh."