Chapter 1

Instagram Orangutan

This isn't love, baby. It's war, with kissing.

"Girls, look, Demond is showing off again!" my friend said, nodding toward the guys. "Showing off his little parkour tricks while the coach isn't looking!"

"Yeah, he's working it like he's in a deodorant commercial," another one chimed in. "One shot at the basket, three looks at the camera. Missed, but with style! What's the show for, do you think?"

I turned and glanced at the basketball court. A pack of guys tore around, jumping and bumping shoulders. One of them stood out: a dark-haired, athletic guy with long bangs and the irresistible smile of a campus star. The kind you shouldn't approach without sunglasses unless you wanted to be blinded by his smug grin.

Dennis Demond. Cocky, self-assured... unbearable!

I can't stand him. I don't even remember how many years I haven't been able to stand him. Thirteen, or more?

Even his last name sounds like it came out of a cheap manga about demons and bad boys with great abs. His personality is worse. In school, he managed to win the title of "popular personality," start a parkour crew that sent the principal's blood pressure jumping and left him speechless, and become the reason half the girls in chemistry forgot the periodic table.

Think he cared? Not a bit! The poor principal crossed himself when Demond got his graduation certificate and vanished for good into the wider world.

But once he arrived at university, nothing changed. Demond was still the life of every party and a walking meme.

On the outside, the perfect guy: tall, broad-shouldered, athletic. He wasn't short on brains either, unfortunately. Dark bangs. Blue eyes. A bold stare. And, of course, Demond's signature smile: a perfect row of teeth where one canine looked almost supernatural. A genetic feature preserved somewhere in the evolutionary leap from evil spirit to human being. The very smile he shamelessly used to get girls' attention and teachers' forgiveness for being late to class.

Well, I had to admit, Demond knew how to be charming. So charming that you wanted to take his charisma and carefully drown it in yogurt. Like wind-up cars in the toilet tank back in kindergarten... Glug-glug!

I grimaced as he missed the basket with the ball yet again, but still treated himself to a superhero victory lap.

Pff! What a peacock.

"There's nothing to think about," I snorted with a smirk, addressing the girls. "The poor guy misses the attention of first-year girls. Any second now he'll jump right out of his shorts. Then the fun starts: squealing, adoration, and a live stream on social media. After that, he can reel them in while they're all warmed up and mess with their heads!"

"Well, he is cute, Di," Vicky Crane, my friend, said with a shrug. "I wouldn't mind seeing Demond without his shorts either. And if it's on social media..." Her brown eyes gleamed dreamily. "You can always zoom in there and examine every detail!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say no to the details either!" Dasha Berest laughed.

I turned away, threw my arms over my head, and stretched, loosening the muscles in my back. Noticing that the coach was looking our way, I laced my fingers together and bent over, swaying from side to side.

The girls beside me also started pretending they were exercising diligently.

"Girls, please don't tell me you actually like that smug peacock!" I grumbled to my friends from my bent-over position. "In three years at university, Demond hasn't had a single serious relationship! Just crushes, and as a result, a trail of broken hearts. No serious girl would believe that pretty-boy smile of his! It practically screams: I'm free and I belong to no one! I live to feed on likes!"

Vicky bent over too and tried to touch her own heel with her elbow.

"Well, maybe I'm not swooning hard enough to flatline, but aesthetically he definitely doesn't offend the eye!" she answered with a grunt. "Besides, I'm twenty, and I don't plan to start a family before thirty. So, Catkin, please..." my friend giggled. "Who cares?"

"Exactly!" Dasha chimed in and nodded at Vicky in my direction. "It's just that someone, not pointing fingers, prefers Koreans to all other men, so she turns her nose up at cute guys!"

I straightened and stood in goddess pose. Spreading my palms to the sides, I smirked at my friends:

"Yes, I do prefer them. They're polite, sweet, and well-mannered. And also romantic!"

"But they're short, aren't they?" Dasha, the tallest of our trio, breathed out, either reproachfully or regretfully.

"So what?" I rolled my shoulders. "A person's IQ and principles aren't measured in centimeters! You're just mad that Song Kang is getting married!" I told my friend with great authority and immediately got hit in the shoulder with a yoga cushion. "Ow!"

"He is not getting married, he's just getting closer to a co-star on a project!" Dasha protested. "And he's marrying me! In another life, obviously!"

Vicky and I collapsed onto the mats and burst out laughing. I adored my girls. They might have fallen under Demond's spell, but they were still holding on. For now.

Everyone's eyes turned to the basketball court, where the game went on and one dark-haired Demon was working hard to draw attention to himself.

"Listen, girls, don't laugh," Vicky suddenly said. "I just imagined all of us as prehistoric apes."

"What?"

"Well, thanks, Craney!"

"No, wait!" my friend waved us off. "Rewind two hundred thousand years in your head. Imagine a clearing full of orangutans. There we are, sitting and watching primates dance without shorts, choosing which one to go off into the night with and make little apes. If you look at it that way, I would never choose Demond!"

"Why?" Dasha raised an eyebrow, curious despite herself, and I followed suit.

"Yes, why?"

"Because first he'd dance, then take a selfie, then give an interview... and then run off into the sunset, leaving me with a coconut and an undefined relationship status. Every little ape wants stability and a fresh banana for breakfast."

Silence hung for a second, and then we fell apart laughing. Oh, I think someone was about to get a failing mark from the coach!

"That's it," I breathed, still laughing, "now I won't be able to look at Demond without thinking of the tropics and drama!"

"Hold me! Instagram orangutan," Dasha sobbed with laughter.

"W... with a 'beach breeze' filter and the caption: 'Where you are, there I am. Even if I'm a banana!'" Vicky howled with laughter. "Di, diagnose me, quick! I think it's incurable!"

Laughter washed over us again. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the guys on the court slowing down. Some of them were turning around. But stopping was impossible.

"These are tears of evolution, girls! With an IQ like that, you don't reproduce!" I pinched my fingers together, showing a tiny slice of air. "He couldn't even find a stick to get a coconut. He'll miss the basket again and run off into the sunset!"

I don't know what Demond thought at that moment as he watched us, but the ball suddenly slammed into the basket. It bounced back across the floor into his hands and immediately came whistling in our direction.

"Oh!"

We scattered with shrieks, each in a different direction.