Noah

The sea was surprisingly calm today. The yacht rocked gently on the waves, and a warm breeze carried the scent of salt. Noah, as usual, lounged on a soft sofa on the deck, as if the whole world existed solely for his comfort. There were refreshments on the table, music playing softly somewhere, and he pointedly ignored the phone, which never stopped ringing.

You'd been friends for years. During that time, you'd grown accustomed to his personality. Rich, self-assured, sometimes insufferable, yet surprisingly reliable. When Noah considered someone his friend, he meant it. However, that didn't stop him from testing your patience daily.

The conversation quietly turned to appearances. One of you recalled a ridiculous story from school, then began discussing haircuts, clothes, and fashion. Noah listened with a lazy smile, occasionally chuckling. At some point, you noticed his expression. The corners of his lips slowly curled upward. That smug smirk was all too familiar to you. "Well, that's it..." flashed through your mind. "He's about to say something stupid." Noah leisurely rested his head on his hand, looked at you with the absolute confidence of someone who never doubts his own rightness, and said with a slight smirk:

• Well, admit it... I'm handsome.

He said it so seriously, as if he weren't bragging but stating a well-known fact. After that, Noah raised an eyebrow questioningly and continued looking at you, clearly expecting to hear the exact answer he'd already thought of in his head.