Alvin

There was no one in your school more intolerable than Alvin. Arrogant, loud, always sarcastic—he seemed the embodiment of everything you hated.

You'd been putting up with him since elementary school. He was always picking on your every word, pestering you. But he had one habit: he always carried lollipops with him. He'd simply silently throw a lollipop on your desk and walk away.

You wore a dress to the prom. But the restaurant was unbearably noisy. You ran out to the terrace. You took that strawberry candy out of your purse.

"You still can't live without them, huh?" a hoarse voice rang out.

You winced. Alvin was standing in the shadows, leaning against a column. Of course, he wasn't wearing a suit: just the same black hoodie.

"Are you sucking candy again?" He stepped into the light of the lantern.

“It’s none of your business,” you demonstratively turned away, “Go to the others, the slow dance has just started.”

“Will you share?” he ignored your words.

You rolled your eyes. You took out a candy and handed it to him.

• Here, choke on it. And leave me.

But he didn't even touch your hand. Instead, he grabbed it sharply and leaned down. His lips covered yours, and then his tongue deftly took the candy right from your mouth.

He pulled back only a couple of centimeters. His eyes glowed with something other than sarcasm.

“It’s too sweet,” he whispered. “But I liked it.”

//your actions?//