MIA

"Come on Mia, hand me the plate," Jackson pleaded, extending his arm towards the empty plate I had just finished eating from.

I shook my head, avoiding his reach playfully. "No," I replied, a mischievous smile on my face.

With a chuckle, he tried to reason, "Let me wash it this time. You're my guest, and I don't want you to get your uniform wet."

I raised an eyebrow. "So what? We're friends, right? As a friend, I should at least do something here. Besides, I'm bored," I insisted.

He sighed, finally relenting. "Fine, but I'll clean the plate while you wash it."

"It's just one plate, Jackson," I rolled my eyes, making my way to the kitchen. He followed closely behind.

"Either allow me or take the plate from your hand," he teased, quickly snatching it from my grasp.

"Hey!" I protested, snatching it back. "Fine, just stay where you are," I blurted out, determined to wash the plate myself.

As I focused on washing the plate, I shut my ears from hearing any response. When I finished, I turned to find Jackson staring at me. My cheeks began to redden, but I shook off the distraction and handed him the clean plate. "Your turn."

He nodded and we switched places. As he cleaned the plate, memories of my parents taking turns doing the dishes flashed through my mind.

Suddenly, a hand movement snapped me out of my thoughts. I blinked and stared at Jackson, confused. "What?"

"You were lost in thought. Are you okay?" he asked, a concerned expression on his face.

"Yeah," I nodded, making my way to the living room. A bark from Daisy, the adorable dog, grabbed both our attention. She was awake and excited.

"Oh no," Jackson groaned, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Daisy began jumping on the sofa, her barks growing louder when she noticed both of us.

"I think you can handle this," I said, covering my ears jokingly. I spotted my backpack and was about to walk towards it when Jackson's hand gently held my wrist.

I turned, finding a frown on his face and pleading eyes begging me to stay. Don't fall for it, Mia, I reminded myself.

"I have assignments and…" I began to explain, but his sad puppy eyes persisted.

"Please, don't go," he pleaded, his touch on my wrist and his soft voice working their magic. I found myself nodding, his mood instantly changing. He pulled me into a hug. "Thank you."

My head spun as I inhaled his cologne and felt the light pressure of his muscles against me. I quickly pulled away, coughing slightly, and started talking, my focus shifting to the confused dog observing our display.

"Uff!" Daisy barked, jumping off the sofa and running away from the living room.

"Could she be hungry?" I wondered aloud.

"Maybe," Jackson scratched his head, his hand resting on his waist. "Let me call Mom." He went into the kitchen and returned with his phone.

"Daisy, sweety," I used a soothing voice, attempting to calm her down. She paid no attention and dashed upstairs. My eyes widened. "Daisy, no!"

I hurriedly followed, running upstairs, trying to catch my breath. Eating and running definitely didn't match.

Daisy barked playfully in Jackson's room, causing some of his things to fall. I rushed towards her, trying to catch her, but ended up falling onto the bed. That's when I felt something beneath the sheets. Without thinking, I pulled it out.

"Daisy!" Jackson shouted from downstairs. "Do you want a doggy treat?"

"Bark! Bark!" Daisy barked even louder upon hearing that and ran out of his room.

I chuckled, sitting on the bed as I held a photo book in my hands. I opened it, and the first thing I saw was a picture of Jackson as a baby, dressed as a girl.

"What are you doing here?" Jackson suddenly appeared, his smirk fading into a look of panic when he noticed the photo in my hand. "Please, don't tell me…"

"You were so cute," I teased, showing him the picture of his baby self dressed as a princess. "You didn't tell me you wanted to be a girl," I giggled.

He ran towards me, attempting to snatch the book, but I evaded his grasp. "No way! I deserve to have some fun right now."

"Fun? You mean teasing me," he grumbled, making another attempt to snatch the book.

"Mia…" he warned, but I evaded him once again.

"You're so stubborn," he sighed, placing his hand on his nose. "Fine, you can look, but…" He jumped onto the bed next to me. "But I get topick which photo you see."

"But—" I tried to protest, but he silenced me by placing his finger on my lips, startling me.

"Take it or leave it," he said, and I sighed, finally giving in.

"Good," he replied.

.

.

.

"This can't be you!" I exclaimed, flipping through the pages of the photo book. Jackson and I had spent nearly an hour in his room, reminiscing and laughing at his adorable childhood pictures. In each picture, he had a sigh or a funny expression that made me burst into laughter, especially when he was a baby with only a couple of teeth.

"So cute," I giggled, unable to contain my amusement.

Every now and then, Jackson would glance at Daisy, making sure she was okay. Eventually, he grew tired of checking on her, and she wandered upstairs herself, plopping down on the floor beside the bed.

"Okay, that's enough pictures for one day," Jackson declared, closing the photo book.

I frowned, a pleading look in my eyes. "Please, just one more," I implored, turning towards him.

He stared at me for a moment, his hands on his face. "How can I resist that?" he muttered to himself.

"Okay," he suddenly smiled. "One more picture."

I blinked twice, nodding my head slowly, and refocused on the photo in front of me. I had to act normal around him, not let my running or blushing give away my feelings like an idiot.

"What happened?" he whispered into my ear, startling me. "You're not flipping the page," he observed, shifting his body closer to mine, his attention solely on me.

"Nothing, just thinking," I replied, trying to sound casual.

"About what?" he pressed, inching even closer.

"About how cute you looked back then," I responded, hoping my answer was convincing enough.

"Oh really?" he grinned, moving even closer. "And what about now?"

I gulped, feeling my heart race. "N-Now?"

"Yes, how do I look now?" he asked, his eyes locked onto mine.

How do you look now? Where should I begin? Should I mention how every time we're this close, I'm tempted to count each eyelash on your beautiful eyes or how your cheeks look so soft? I used to love touching them when we were younger, and now they're just inches away from my fingertips.

And your smile. Oh God, your smile always brightens my day.

"Earth to Mia," he chuckled, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I'm waiting for my answer."

"Umm, you're..." I paused, his eager expression urging me to speak. "Why should I answer?" I quickly turned my face away from him.

It's not like your girlfriend didn't tell you how good-looking you are.

"My girlfriend?" he questioned, confusion evident in his voice.

Oh no. I said that out loud.

"Ahh... yes, you dated in Korea, so she must have told you how handsome you looked," I stammered, feeling like a child with my words. But what else could I say? It was the only thought that crossed my mind, and I was genuinely curious about his ex.

It's sad, I know.

"I guess she told me," he shrugged, brushing it off. "But I never really thought about it. Girls in Korea tend to go for guys who are popular in sports, academics, or..."

"Or guys with good looks," I blurted out, earning an amused look from him.

"I guess that too. Why are you suddenly bringing her up?"

"I don't know, I just felt curious about her," I admitted.

"Well, don't be. She's in the past, and I wasn't really into her," he revealed.

"Really? Why? I know Korean girls are really pretty, and they seriously look like the cutest Barbie dolls," I commented, genuinely intrigued.

He leaned back and laughed. "Is that all you think guys like in a girl? Just her being pretty?"

"I guess..." I trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed by my assumption.

"The guys who think that way aren't really ready for a relationship. I dated only once, back when I was 16 because my friends kept pressuring me to ask her out. But she was the type of girl who had a specific kind of guy she dated. She was too demanding, always telling me when and what time I should call her because she was 'busy'," he rolled his eyes when he mentioned "busy."

"We had an argument once, and she said something that actually made sense," he continued.

"What did she say?" I asked, curious to know.

He looked at me directly, his gaze fixed on mine. "She said I was acting as though I'm in love with someone else," he whispered softly.

My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn't help but wonder if he meant me.

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