A Few Hundred Poppies
And that reality has a very mean sense of humour - having spent sixteen years in a town full of generic white boys, I could be found perpetually bored and prone to rejecting the few who asked me out, and when I'd said that I would like it if a transoceanic guy or two joined this school, I meant a Mexican ex-villain's only heir or something, so that I could fall in love, get ignored, get my heart broken and end up writing a good book.
Instead, life handed me an arrogant, outrageously handsome Pak-Korean asshole with an acquired taste for driving me insane, and left me to deal with falling for him.
It was the second Monday of the school year, halfway into August, and for the first time in thre
Sikat na Kabanata