Because of that, I asked my friends once what they thought of me. Their answers were alarmingly unanimous: they all called me a straight-arrow.
I wasn’t convinced. I didn’t even know why they labeled me that.
That Saturday, I was happily holed up at home, eating and gaming, when my best friend Lucy called.
She sounded excited, her voice practically punching through the phone. “Jenna, get out here—I’ve got a boyfriend to set you up with!”
I took a belch after half a can of soda. “Nope.”
Love can’t compete with a good meal.
When coaxing didn’t work, Lucy pulled out the big guns: bribery. “If you get your makeup done and come over in half an hour, I’ll get you a monthly pass to Greenline Internet Cafe.”
Greenline’s monthly pass. Sold.
I stole my mom’s makeup, locked myself in my room, and tried to do a face. I’d never really used makeup—lip balm in autumn felt like haute couture for me—but I muddled through. When I looked in the mirror at the end, I actually liked what I saw and headed out.
Maybe it was the makeup, but people on the subway kept looking at me. I frowned, buried my nose in my phone, and rode to the end of the line.
The restaurant where we’d agreed to meet went quiet when I walked in. Lucy looked over, then froze when she saw me. Silent. Pale.
I marched over, only then noticing the guy beside Lucy.
Fair skin, delicate features, smiling at me—definitely handsome. He stared long enough that, for the first time in my life, I felt a weird flutter of shyness.
Lucy rubbed her forehead like I was embarrassing her. “Jenna, do you not look in the mirror before you leave?”
“I did.”
I was puzzled. I pulled a small mirror out of my bag and checked again—nothing wrong as far as I could tell. “Isn’t it fine?”
“Fine?” Lucy yanked me closer, practically jabbing a finger at my nose. “Look at that ghostly foundation, that red clown blush, your eyelashes are clumpy like fly legs, your lips are anemic—do you even have lipstick on?”
Guilty as charged. “I forgot the lipstick.”
Lucy pulled a makeup remover wipe from her bag and started wiping my face then and there. That wipe actually worked miracles—layers of caked-on makeup wiped clean.
While she was removing my make-up, I glanced at the handsome guy across from us and whispered to Lucy, bargaining, “Two months on the Greenline pass.”
Lucy gritted her teeth. “I owe you one from a past life.”
Makeup gone, I sat up straight and gave the guy a shy look. “So… shall we—”
“Eat first?” he interrupted, surprised, then smiled. “Sure.”
I dove into the food like a woman possessed. Lucy sighed and introduced, “Jenna, this is my brother Ethan. He’s my real brother, a year older, single.”
She stressed the word single like it was very important.
I, with a stomach that could barely contain my appetite, just kept eating and barely looked up. “Hi, Ethan.”
He chuckled softly. “Hi.”
After we demolished the food, I politely wiped my mouth with a napkin, then let out a satisfied belch.
Lucy looked utterly defeated. “Fine. After we eat, let’s just go home.”
Before I could answer, Ethan surprised everyone by smiling. “It’s still early. Want to go see a movie? My treat.”
Lucy looked astonished and quickly answered for me. “Yes! She’s free later anyway.”
I frowned. “I don’t want to watch a movie.”
A brief silence settled. I added, “Romances drag on, and comedies are exhausting.”
Ethan replied quickly, “Then horror. There’s a new horror movie out with good reviews.”
Lucy nudged me. “Right! Jenna, aren’t you the horror-fan?”
I hesitated, then looked at Ethan, gauging him. “Nah—I’ll pass. What if you get scared and I have to comfort you?”
This wasn’t a random jab—I’ve been through that before. Back in sophomore year, some lanky, shy underclassman chased me and called me “sis” all the time. I wanted to try dating, so I agreed to go to a movie and even split the ticket. That horror movie ended with him shrieking and snuggled into my arms the whole time, hands over his eyes whispering, “I’m scared, sis.” I patted his back and fed him popcorn, then broke it off afterward. For some reason, imagining a grown man clinging to me like a terrified kid totally weirded me out.
Still, Lucy had already set the plan in motion, and we ended up at Greenline Internet Cafe. Lucy reluctantly loaded two months onto a card. I grabbed it, thrilled to get some gaming time, when Lucy dragged me into the restroom and pressed the card into my hand.
“Jenna, listen: that two-month pass isn’t charity. You’re coming to be my brother’s girlfriend.”
“Huh? A girlfriend?”
“My mom’s trying to set him up with some goody-two-shoes. That’s not happening on my watch. You’ll be my cheap little sister-in-law.” She nodded seriously.
I blinked. “Even if I agreed, are you sure he’s interested?”
Lucy smirked. “Honestly? He seems into you. I’ve never seen him ask someone out first.”
I hesitated. He was cute, sure, but I had zero plans of diving into relationship mode. Before I could refuse, Lucy grabbed my hand and lowered her voice. “If you become my sister-in-law, I’ll pay your internet fees for life.”
Sold. I accepted on the spot.
Of course, I soon forgot about my grand vow to be Lucy’s sister-in-law.
We queued for co-op games at the cafe and played duo queue. Not even five minutes in, I exploded at him. “Why are you playing support and taking farm?!”
Dead silence. Lucy pinched my arm and I yelped, instantly snapped back into the game. I turned and forced a compliment. “Actually, support taking farm is smart—go get gear to protect me.”
From then on, whenever I cursed, Lucy pinched me before I could finish. Thanks to her, I played unusually ladylike, chugging soda like it was a crime, piling empty bottles by the keyboard.
When I couldn’t drink any more, I tugged Lucy close and hissed, “At this rate I’ll get diabetes before I become your sister-in-law.” I logged off for the first time willingly. “Let’s go walk around.”
Despite the chaos, the co-op wasn’t totally wasted—Ethan helped me die gloriously four times in a row. Great match-making material.
Outside the cafe, Lucy slipped away with an excuse, but she flashed me a secret hand sign. I mouthed a thanks and promised to deliver.
Halfway down the street, Ethan pointed. “There’s a trendy tea shop over there. Want me to get you a drink?”
“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s probably twenty people in line. It’s overpriced and a waste—people paying for status.”
I dragged him into a nearby corner store instead. “Springwell bottled water is fine. Cheap, healthy.” I grabbed two bottles and paid before he could argue.
Conversation with Ethan felt strangely stilted. We’d exchange two sentences and then fizzle.
He said, bright-eyed, “You’re good at games.”
I shrugged and teased, “I’m average—you’re just bad!” I tried adding a silly little regional lilt I’d picked up from dramas—“lah!”—and he only awkwardly changed the subject.
He asked what my hobbies were. I said: eating, sleeping, gaming. He asked how many relationships I’d had and what I liked in a guy. I shook my head. “Never dated.”
He looked shocked. I patted his shoulder like I was imparting wisdom. “Haven’t you heard? Don’t rush love—meals are better than romance. Games are much more satisfying than dating.”
Silence fell again. I noticed Lucy’s serious look as she left and suddenly withdrew my hand from his shoulder. “Well… if it were someone like you…”
Ethan turned toward me, closing the distance between us. All of a sudden he was very close. My breath hitched.
He smiled, eyes locked on me. “If it was someone like me… what would you do?”
Damn it. My heart thudded loud enough to drown out everything. I swallowed and turned my face away to steady myself. “If it was you… that’d be pretty good.”
He chuckled low.
Before he could say anything else, I screamed—my bag had been snatched!
A kid dashed past, yanking my canvas bag off my shoulder. The bag wasn’t valuable, but it held a lot of important stuff.
Ethan lurched into action, but I stopped him. He looked thin and wiry; if anything happened, I’d have to explain it to Lucy. “No, I’ve got this!” I shouted, and bolted after the thief.
Speaking of which, that thief really had rotten luck — he’d only run down one block before barreling into an ice cream cart.
There was a dull thud.
I didn’t even get to make a move; he collapsed to the ground holding his head and whining.
I snatched my bag back and gave him a couple of kicks on the butt. “Couldn’t pick anything better to do? Had to be a thief!”
I snapped at him in a huff, then slung my bag and started walking home.
A few minutes later, something felt off.
Like… I’d forgotten something?
I stopped and racked my brain, drawing a blank. Just as I was about to walk on, a soft, accusing voice floated from behind — Jenna Carter, did you forget something?
I turned, stunned, and saw Ethan standing there with an almost helpless, innocent look. “Did you forget me?”
I jolted awake and smacked my thigh. “That’s it — I knew something felt missing!”
Gotta admit, Ethan’s pretty good-natured. I’d ditched him halfway, and he didn’t huff or lecture me. Instead he even laughed and teased, “You little scatterbrain.”
That slightly intimate tone made even a forever-single person like me flutter a little.
By the time we were through all that nonsense, dusk had fallen. Ethan offered to drive me home.
In the car.
I felt like a country bumpkin, wide-eyed and a little giddy sitting in his car. “You actually drive a sports car?”
He chuckled. “What’s wrong with that?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I just always assumed you weren’t that well-off.”
He laughed. “She’s got decent allowance — she’s just stingy.”
But sports cars aren’t as comfy as they look.
The wind buzzed around my head the whole way.
Ethan parked under my building and reached forward, waving a hand in front of my face. “Everything okay?”
I snapped back to reality. “Yeah.”
Then, earnest as can be, I offered a suggestion. “This car’s great, but the wind is awful. You should get a Volvo.”
He blinked. “A Volvo? Why?”
I made a little gesture. “I heard they’re sturdy! Safety first, right?”
He laughed at me. “Who knew you were so fond of your life.”
After we got out, remembering Lucy’s warning, I didn’t rush upstairs. I stood by the car and chatted awkwardly with Ethan for a bit.
Suddenly he teased, “We’re right under your building. Aren’t you going to invite me up for a glass of water?”
I looked baffled and pointed at the bottle in his car. “But you have Springwell water right there!”
Ethan paused, then gave an embarrassed smile. “Look at me. I need to work on my memory.”
He waved me off. “Go on in and get some rest.”
Hearing him say that felt like being absolved; I hurried to say goodbye and dashed up the stairs.
At home, I changed into pajamas, intending to close the curtains and play a quick game. But at the window I froze.
Outside… his sports car was still parked on the curb. Ethan leaned against the door, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.
I live on the third floor, and even with my mild nearsightedness I could see him clearly.
For some reason, a strange feeling welled up.
How to explain it?
My face warmed, my heart sped up, my chest felt tight.
I watched for a while, then slammed the curtain shut and booted up my computer.
“Maybe the room’s just stuffy…” I said, reaching for the remote to switch on the AC.
No sooner had a game ended than Lucy called.
She sounded like she was eating, her words muffled. “Jenna, how’d it go?”
I closed the game, flicked an eyebrow. “Relax. Everything’s fine.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
But Lucy didn’t sound convinced. “Then tell me.”
I shuffled to the fridge in slippers, grabbed a can of cola, chugged half of it, and narrated, in earnest detail, everything that happened after Lucy left — every little thing between me and Ethan.
I expected praise.
Honestly. I’d played damsel-in-distress-turned-savior, shown my thrift by declining trendy bubble tea, displayed modern independence — even fought to pay for water. Apart from temporarily losing Ethan, I thought I’d nailed it.
After my complete account, Lucy fell silent.
After a beat she hissed, “Jenna Carter, I trusted you way too much.”
Huh?
I frowned. “Was my performance that bad?”
“You are impossible!”
Lucy nearly exploded over the phone. “With the way you acted, that pure-heart act is gonna look like his first-love ideal!”
I was speechless.
Her chatter filled the silence while I sat staring at the TV, listening. Finally I muttered, “So… my monthly card…”
Two seconds later she sighed. “Ugh, just open video. I’ll teach you remotely.”
She hung up. Reluctantly, I started the video — what else could I do? She’s the one funding me these days.
On screen, Lucy vividly coached me on how to be an innocent, charming sweet-girl act. It was cheesy, but I picked it up.
When we hung up, she was pleased. “I’ll send you my brother’s WeChat. You should ask him out tomorrow. Do exactly what I showed you. If you do well, I’ll treat you to that place you’ve been craving.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Deal!”
Food and drink — that’s my weakness. Lucy knows me: other than games, only food can keep me loyal.
Faking sweet innocence? No big deal.
A couple minutes later she pushed her brother’s WeChat to me.
I’d heard she had an older brother who’d studied abroad; known him by name but never seen him. While sending Ethan a friend request, I mused inwardly about how siblings can look so different.
Ethan accepted almost immediately.
We exchanged a few lines before he sent a photo — a screenshot of a League game on his monitor — then messaged: Ethan: I’m practicing my skills.
JennaTheFoodie: Stop practicing. Just play support and let me carry and protect you.
Silence on his end.
In that quiet moment I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. After thinking it through, I came to a conclusion — dating is such a pain.
If I were gaming with my buddies and they messed up, I’d unleash a torrent of insults. But with Ethan…it’s different. He’s too earnest to trash-talk.
Ugh… this lifelong expense of online-wheeling-and-dealing is tough.
After some awkward small talk, we agreed to meet for a meal tomorrow. Ethan typed fast: Ethan: I’ll wait under your building at noon.
JennaTheFoodie: Okay.
The moment I hit send, I remembered Lucy’s tutorial and hastily recalled the message to replace it with: JennaTheFoodie: Got it!
The next day.
I’d learned my lesson: I didn’t do my own dramatic makeup. I wore a white dress my mom bought and paid Studio One Photography downstairs to do a subtle, intentional nude look.
I refused to believe anything could go wrong now.
Made up, I waited downstairs.
Ethan arrived quickly. But… the sports car from yesterday was gone. Today he’d driven a Volvo. He stepped out and walked over; I was still stunned and pointed at the car. “Uh…”
He smiled. “New.”
I was floored. My heart skipped — could it be because of my offhand comment yesterday?
Ethan tilted his head and looked at me with the faintest tenderness. “I couldn’t help it — I had a little girl who values her life sitting in my car.”
For some reason, the “little girl” part struck me.
All my life guys had called me a tomboy — before that, a tom-boyish kid — but this was the first time a guy had smiled gently and called me “little girl.”
I took a deep breath to chase away the flurry of weird thoughts and looked up. “Hop in.”
Then I remembered Lucy’s half-hour coaching. I’d promised I learned it. Clearing my throat, fidgeting, hands trembling, I lowered my voice in a practiced way: “Ethan, where are we going for lunch?”
Silence like death.
Ethan gave me a weird look, shuddering as if goosebumps rose on him. He laughed awkwardly. “Get in. I’ll take you to a private little place — great food.”
I kept my head down and replied in a thin voice.
We got in.
After the door closed, I ran my hand over the window and blurted, “Wow, this car just feels secure…”
Halfway out the words, I corrected myself, “I mean… it’s comfy.”
Belt clicked, Ethan leaned over and placed a hand on my forehead, murmuring, “No fever, huh?”
I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand away.
Swallowing my urge to snark, I shot him a scolding glance. “Annoying. You’re the one with the fever.”
Ethan swallowed and didn’t answer, turning back to drive.
The ride was quiet and pleasant.
He drove while soft music played; I sat primly, keeping up the sweet-girl act.
Pretty soon he parked in the underground lot of a mall. Once inside, I realized this place was famous for being upscale.
Everywhere I looked were high-end designer stores.
I frowned and tugged on his sleeve. “This place’s food will be way too expensive.”
He smiled. “Not expensive. If I’m treating you, it’s worth it.”
I couldn’t argue and sighed inwardly. “Let’s split, though.”
Heart bleeding but no freeloading.
I swallowed my pride and followed Ethan into the restaurant.
All the way there, I put Lucy’s little pure-girl routine into practice like a pro—little gestures here and there: casually tug his sleeve, give him a secret wink while talking, flirt a bit on purpose, speak in a soft, breathy voice… But it didn’t seem to be working.
I must’ve tugged his sleeve a little too hard—then again, maybe Ethan wears cheap stuff—because the button on his shirt cuff popped off.
When I winked at him, Ethan leaned closer, worried look on his face. "Got something in your eye?"
"I’ll blow it out for you."
When I croaked at him, he poured me a glass of lemonade. "Throat bothering you?"
After a few rounds of this, I finally admitted defeat and grumbled inwardly—this Ethan was way too unromantic.
We sat down.
The server handed us menus. I glanced, completely lost.
What even are these dishes?
Why can’t I understand a single name?
There were no everyday home-style dishes listed.
No braised pork?
No shredded pork with garlic sauce?
I flipped through once, then handed the menu over to Ethan in silence. "You pick."
And the prices made my head swim—every dish I couldn’t parse was easily a hundred bucks or more.
I did a quick mental tally; this meal could probably cover my yearly fee at Greenline Mall internet cafe. What a ripoff… Ethan calmly ordered, closed the menu, and even got me a fresh-squeezed juice.
I have to admit the food came fast.
But portions were tiny. Everything was beautifully plated, but ridiculously small—one dish wouldn’t even give me two bites.
And there was so much fuss about how to eat each thing—this you cut from here, that you dip like this—I was getting overwhelmed.
The meal was over quickly.
Because the portions were so small, I polished everything off all by myself in no time.
But I wasn’t full.
That barely filled a tooth gap; two burgers at home would’ve been more satisfying.
Ethan smiled at me and suddenly offered, "Not your taste? I’ll take you for crawfish instead."
My eyes lit up. "Yes!"
He Broke My Walls: Then Stayed
Then I looked at the empty plates and paused. I hated to ask, but I said, "I might be short on cash. Pay first and I’ll transfer you later."
"No."
Ethan suddenly dropped his voice, leaned in, and winked. "I can dine and dash."
Dine and dash?
I blinked; that was crazy.
Before I could protest, Ethan grabbed my hand and bolted for the door.
My heart pounded. I clutched his hand and ran after him.
We sprinted out of the mall.
When we stopped outside, we looked at each other and burst out laughing.
I took a breath, jumped down the steps, and turned to him. "That was wild."
He chuckled softly but didn’t say anything.
Still, I felt a little guilty and hesitated. "Isn’t that kind of wrong?"
He laughed. "It’s fine."
I checked the mall entrance—no security chasing us. "I bet the owner’s furious—so many dishes unpaid."
Ethan winked. "Maybe not. I think the owner might be pretty happy."
"Why?"
Is the owner stupid? Who’d be happy about getting stiffed on an expensive bill?
Ethan’s low laugh came: "Because I own the place."
I stared up in shock for a second, then blurted a curse.
"Damn!
Why didn’t you say so earlier?"
He chuckled. "Come on, I’ll take you to the crawfish place."
My spirits shot up. Realizing I wouldn’t have to split the bill made me feel light as air. I slapped his shoulder and grandly declared, "Let’s go—I’ll treat you to crawfish. I know a place that’s insane."
I almost draped my arm over him like a buddie. He laughed and agreed. We were about to leave when Lucy called.
I answered quickly. "Hey, Lucy."
Her voice was low and full of warning. "Jenna, don’t forget your lesson from yesterday. Keep it together—don’t let your true self slip!"
I stole a quick look at Ethan and hurriedly replied, "Okay, okay, don’t worry."
I hung up and snapped back into character.
I looped my arm through Ethan’s and forced a higher voice. "Ethan, let’s go. I’m treating you to crawfish."
He stiffened for a moment but didn’t pull away—just looked a little awkward.
The crawfish joint wasn’t far—just across a plaza.
As we reached the square center, we spotted a couple arguing.
The guy had dyed yellow hair and wore a chunky gold chain—probably fake—and he was grabbing the girl and yelling while kicking her. She shielded her head and begged. A ring of people watched but no one stepped in.
Yellow-hair kept hitting and cursing. "I lost the money—so what? Say another word and see what happens."
The girl tried saying she wanted a breakup and he attacked harder. "Break up?"
He yanked her hair and spat in her face. "How dare you bring up a breakup? I’ll kill you!"
I couldn’t stand it. This wasn’t just a jerk—that was a disgusting human.
Ethan frowned, like he wanted to intervene. But I was quicker.
I slipped my hand from his arm and ran forward, delivering a flying kick to the guy’s arm.
"Ah!!"
He howled, clutching his arm and collapsing to the ground. I glanced down, disgusted. This weakling hits his girlfriend?
I marched up and drilled his leg with a hard kick. "You beat women and call that being a man?"
He glared and spat, "You sneaked up on me!"
I didn’t hold back. Another kick—"Sneak my ass! I did judo in elementary school, you think I need to sneak?"
I squatted down and warned him, "If I ever see you hit a woman again, I’ll paralyze your lower half."
Then I kicked him in the crotch—hard.
He screamed and clutched himself.
I snorted and walked back to Ethan, who looked a little off.
It suddenly hit me—oh shit, where was my pure-girl act? I’d completely forgotten.
I hesitated, then switched my expression and clung to Ethan’s arm, burying my face in his sleeve and falsetto-crying, "Ethan, that was scary!"
He was silent a moment, then murmured, "I think that scared the yellow-haired guy more than you."
I bit back an expletive, shot him a look, and lightly thumped his chest without thinking. "Annoying!"
He trembled, smiled at me, and said nothing.
After the small drama, we went to the crawfish place.
The joint was famous for great flavor and low prices—already packed even before dinner.
Since I’d mooched a meal off him earlier, I waved my hand and ordered every flavor—garlic, spicy mala, the thirteen-spice—one of each. Ethan poured me a warm glass of water and set it in front of me.
He cocked his head and joked, "You ever think you’d be domestic-violence-y?"
I froze. "Domestic-violence-y?"
Without thinking, I blurted, "You’re so handsome—why would I hit you?"
We both went quiet.
Oh god. He’d been joking about whether I’d hit people and I just put that on Ethan. My face warmed.
I stalled and changed the subject. "They actually do really good crawfish here."
He smiled. "Then I’ll eat more later."
Before the crawfish landed on our table, Ethan got a call and had to leave.
And of course the reason was the clichéd one—his friend’s house was on fire. I watched him adopt a worried expression and felt the pit in my stomach drop.
It was probably over.
I nodded magnanimously. "Go. If you’re late the house will burn down."
He rushed off.
When the crawfish arrived, my appetite was gone.
I sat there and called Lucy over.
She showed up with her boyfriend Jerry Reed—an attractive foreign guy who spoke perfect Mandarin. They were nearby, so they came quickly.
Jerry started peeling crawfish like a pro and kept bobbing his head, praising, "These crawfish are incredible!"
I couldn’t help but laugh—he’d only been here a few years but learned the language well.
Lucy and I ate while Jerry kept peeling, and we drank beer. I downed a cold gulp and grumbled, "Lucy, I can’t be your cheap sister-in-law. Your brother probably got scared by me and bolted."
Lucy denied it earnestly. "No way! My brother’s not like that. And I can tell he likes you—last night he dragged me out of bed interrogating me about your personality and what you like, kept asking till midnight."
After I told her about beating up the yellow-haired guy, Lucy went quiet.
A moment later she patted my shoulder with her greasy hand, suddenly serious. "Jenna, forget being my sister-in-law. As long as you get married someday, I’ll cover your internet fees for life."
…
The idea of free internet for the rest of my life definitely tugged at something competitive in me.
I snatched the crawfish from her hand and shoved it into my mouth, hissing, "Just wait—tomorrow I'm going to confess to your brother!"
Lucy didn't seem surprised at all. She just smiled at me, then, with her foreign boyfriend beside her, gave me a cheering gesture—"Go for it!"
…Why does it feel like I'm being played again by this little trickster?
But the words were out, and it was in front of her foreign friend, so I couldn't exactly back out now.
Might as well go through with it. I only said I'd go confess to her brother; I never promised he'd say yes.
We put the topic to rest and enjoyed the rest of the crawfish.
Lucy ate happily, Jerry peeled happily.
Full and content, I used the excuse that Ethan had stood me up today to make Lucy pay the bill.
Having scored a free crawfish meal, my annoyance at Ethan for bailing dissolved.
After the check, Lucy clutched her wallet like it hurt and scolded me, calling me a big liar—she’d come because I said to, and now she had to pay.
Before I could answer, Jerry beat me to it. He leaned in, eyes shining, and told Lucy, "Darling, I got this—what brother owes, sister pays!"
The poor expat thought he was clever and wanted praise, but Lucy pinned his head and gave it a hard push.
"Pay your own head!"
Jerry stood there stunned for a few seconds, then turned to me, crestfallen.
This grown man—taller than me by a head—actually asked me in a trembling voice, his lips quivering, "She… wants to use my head to make it up to you??"
I couldn't help laughing.
I patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. That imported head of yours? Not my type."
Only then did Jerry relax, then dart off after his beloved.
I glanced at the time and sighed—back to work again.
My day job is as a designer, but the company’s had issues recently, so we've been working from home.
Riding the subway home, for some reason my mind kept drifting back to Ethan.
Me—someone who usually lets insults wash right through—was stewing over him standing me up.
I got on the train and snagged a seat between some burly guys. Just as I settled, I spotted a familiar jacket across the car.
Ethan!
I jumped up and rushed over to the guy with his back to me.
Liar!
Wasn't his friend supposed to have a fire?
I slapped his shoulder hard. The guy spun around, surprised and annoyed—and I realized I'd made a mistake.
The face I saw was too young to be Ethan. He'd just happened to be wearing the same jacket.
I sheepishly pulled my hand back, embarrassed. "Sorry, wrong person…"
After that little scene, I felt even worse.
There was a heavy sort of ache in my chest. This wasn't a good sign—had I really started to like Ethan?
Probably not…right?
Back home I took a shower to wash away the messy thoughts, changed into pajamas, locked myself in the study, and focused on design work.
Honestly, work is the best distraction.
When I finally came out of the study, it was dark.
I washed my face, ordered takeout, and logged into WeChat—only to find a message from Ethan.
Jenna, I’m really sorry about today. I’m not lying—my friend’s place actually caught fire.
He even sent a photo: a room charred black, Ethan and another guy standing at the doorway, the other guy's face still smudged with soot.
For some reason, I felt elated.
See? Ethan didn't lie to me.
Of course—someone that mature wouldn't be scared off by my little freakout.
And before I could say anything, Ethan asked to meet the next day and insisted on buying me a meal to make up for it.
I accepted right away and screenshotted it to Lucy with a smug emoji.
Lucy replied in seconds: "Don't get cocky—confess first thing tomorrow!"
I sent back a sticker. Just then the delivery arrived and I happily dug in.
Life's good.
After eating, I washed up and—rare indulgence—stole one of my mom's face masks. If I was confessing tomorrow, I needed to look my best.
But no sooner had I taken it than my mom came pounding on the door.
She banged so loudly the whole door shook. Through the crack she yelled, "Jenna Carter, did you steal my face mask?"
Before I could answer she shouted again, "Do you know how expensive that mask is? You—"
I burst the door open, mask on my face, and blurted, "Mom, I have a date tomorrow."
She froze for a beat, then turned and left without saying the rest.
I snorted. Mom had been nagging me about getting married forever—this would shut her up for sure.
Except she came back out of her bedroom holding a big box.
I stared at the box in her arms. "What's that—"
She set it down hard on the table and looked at me seriously. "Honey, use whatever makeup you want. I won't charge you—just bring a son-in-law home soon."
Before I could respond, she launched into her gossip routine, interrogating me until she pieced together a picture of my "future son-in-law" from my half-hearted answers.
—Lucy's brother, well-off family, handsome, 5'11", gentle and refined… Mom was thrilled and even woke my dad up in the next room to tell him the whole thing.
Dad was half-asleep but clapped at the exciting parts, eyes closed. After decades of marriage he'd mastered the art of flattering his wife.
I rubbed my forehead—should've kept my mouth shut. Then the family's "encouragement" put me to sleep.
The next morning I woke close to noon. Panic replaced sleepiness and I scrambled to get ready.
I meant to get Mom to do my makeup, but no one was home.
Then I saw a message from Ethan thirty minutes earlier: "Up yet? I'm downstairs waiting." He'd added a weirdly affectionate sticker.
Bad feeling.
I padded to the window in slipper and saw them downstairs. My mom was happily chatting with Ethan—what was even happening?
Now I had no time to do makeup. I threw on shoes and ran downstairs.
From a distance I could hear Mom booming, "Ethan, come upstairs for a bit. Stay for lunch—Auntie will make her famous braised ribs."
My pace slowed. Famous braised ribs… Are you sure about that?
I still had the photo of her blackened ribs saved on my phone… If Ethan ate that, whatever chance we had might evaporate.
Mom was way too enthusiastic, grabbing Ethan’s hand and chatting away. I pushed through, awkward.
"Mom!" I said, pulling her gently away.
She beamed. "See? Mom saw him right away when she came out to shop. I recognized him!"
She grabbed my wrist and practically shoved me into Ethan, proudly declaring, "Look at them—you two could be married!"
I, fearing more of Mom's proclamations, looped my arm through Ethan's. "Mom, we're going on our date."
She smiled and fussed over us, "Go on then. Ethan, come over for dinner sometime, okay?"
Her warm smile made me break out in goosebumps—never in my life had I seen Mom this soft.
Under her doting gaze, I linked arms with Ethan and we left.
As we buckled into the car, Mom's magnified face appeared in the window again. "Drive carefully!"
Ethan rolled his window down and laughed, "Don't worry, Auntie."
The car pulled away and I finally breathed out, but the thought of confessing made my stomach churn again.
Confessions are straight out of the dramas—those soft, cheesy lines I could never say myself.
We rode in silence for a while. Ethan took me to a specialty barbecue place, and I lit up when we walked in.
Skewers? Yes, please.
And skewers always go with beer. A little tipsy boost and I could make the confession in one go. If he turned me down, I could always blame it on the alcohol.
Perfect plan.
Free of worry, I happily dived into skewers.
What thrilled me most was that this place had been on my list for ages—Ethan really knew me.
Before the dinner rush, the restaurant was calm and the food came fast. Ethan ordered nearly the whole menu.
I asked the server for a crate of beer.
Skewers and beer—match made in heaven.
I poured a beer for each of us. Ethan paused. "I have to drive."
"No problem," I waved a hand. "I'll call you a rideshare later!"
Then, mimicking Lucy's earlier move, I tugged his sleeve across the table. "Please?"
Ethan gave a helpless smile and agreed without hesitation. "Okay."
So we ate skewers and drank. The mood was cozy.
A few beers in, Ethan relaxed; he wasn't as stiff as before.
He didn't drink much—two beers and his cheeks had a slight flush.
He looked at me, held the glass a moment, then smiled.
"Jenna."
He said my name softly, his voice a little huskier and very pleasant.
I looked up. "Yeah?"
He smiled. "Actually, you're the most special girl I've ever met."
I laughed with him, teasing, "Specially dumb? Specially awkward?"
"What does it matter? Guys all like big breasts, a perky butt, and a pretty face."
"I'm not."
He hurriedly denied it, eyes wide, expression dead serious. "I don't like big breasts and perky butts. You're fine the way you are."
"…"
I had no comeback. Was that a compliment or an insult?
Unable to figure it out, I threw myself into drinking.
Bit by bit, I got a little drunk.
By the time we were done, the table was a mess of empty bottles.
Suddenly my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced down — it was Lucy.
No doubt she was pestering me to confess again.
I steeled myself, rode the buzz, and slid over to Ethan, draping my hand on his shoulder.
If it was going to be a confession, might as well make it different. I arched an eyebrow. "Ethan, I've got a thing for you. Let's be together."
I even gave myself a mental high-five for being so direct.
Silence settled for a beat.
When Ethan didn't react right away, I frowned and prodded him, "At least give me a response."
Then I looked up and met his warm, gentle gaze.
He lowered his eyes quietly, something like tenderness flickering there.
For some reason my cheeks flushed.
He watched me, lips pressed together. "Jenna, you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk!"
I cut him off, feeling an odd prickly annoyance. I grabbed his sleeve and tipped my face up. "I want to be with you. Just say yes or no!"
Ethan suddenly smiled.
"Really?"
I looked up. "Of course it's real!"
He looked down at me and softly said, "Then I won't be polite."
Before I could ask what he meant, Ethan slipped a hand to the back of my head, leaned in, and kissed me.
His lips felt like marshmallow—warm and soft.
I froze. My mind went blank, looping a single thought: this is my first kiss!
Ethan was so gentle.
One hand at the back of my head, the other lightly around my waist. No rough force, no fumbling tongues—just a tender, patient teaching. He shifted his lips against mine and slowly taught me how to respond.
My brain fogged, but I found myself following him, inching deeper into the kiss.
Luckily we were tucked in a corner with few people around; otherwise even my thick skin would have slunk into embarrassment.
After a while, Ethan let go.
I sat there, breathing hard; the alcohol had mostly worn off, but my cheeks burned.
No matter how I tried to calm down, my pulse thundered in my ears.
I patted my chest but didn't dare look up.
Ethan chuckled, leaned in close, and said, "You just told me to be with you. Why are you shy now?"
He was so near my face that my blush deepened.
Damn it. Why does being in love feel like this?
Hot cheeks, racing heart, clumsy hands, and this tightness in my chest—an indescribable thrill.
I haven't felt this hyped since I solo-wiped a five-man raid!
Seeing Ethan so close, my heart stuttered again.
Maybe reading my nervousness, he smiled and edged even nearer.
"Jenna."
His voice was low and magnetic.
I licked my lips without thinking. "Wh–what?"
He smiled. "Nothing, just wanted to call your name."
That light little thing made me blush again.
Love… that damn sweetness.
Apparently, despite being a gaming-obsessed, food-devouring loner, I adapted to being close with Ethan absurdly fast.
The rest of dinner we were practically glued to each other.
Arm in arm with Ethan, I thought to myself—after years of being single, what a waste!
I wasted my youth treating games like treasures; dating is… so wonderful!
After we ate, Ethan didn't call a driver. He parked nearby and walked me to the subway.
I clung to his arm the whole way and even snapped a photo to send Lucy.
She nearly replied instantly: "You two are together!??"
I frowned and typed back fast, "Lose the question marks. I'm your sister-in-law now."
Lucy: "…"
I smugly flaunted my new status to her, then couldn't help sighing, "I should've done this sooner if I'd known dating felt like this."
Lucy shot back quickly: "Ha, you're just getting started."
She sent a cheeky sticker and then: "You'll see—there are joys you can't even imagine."
I raised an eyebrow. Joys I can't imagine?
I don't buy it. How much better could it get?
Ethan rode the subway with me all the way home.
Downstairs, we held hands, swaying, neither of us wanting to let go.
I couldn't help thinking—who knew this formerly notorious "steel-straight" girl would turn into a lovestruck little schoolgirl? Love really is magical.
As twilight deepened I looked up and softened my voice, "Well… I'm going upstairs."
Ethan nodded. "Okay."
He agreed, but he wouldn't let go of my hand. He still gripped it tight.
I blushed again. "Your hand…"
God knows what made me sound so gentle and soft—this wasn't an act; I really felt it.
Ethan laughed and finally released my hand.
I was oddly disappointed.
Then he leaned in, tilted his head, and tapped the left side of his face with a finger. "You forgot something?"
I realized instantly.
The once-steel straight girl flushed and obediently pecked his cheek.
Ethan smiled and bent down to kiss my lips again. "Come home with me tomorrow."
I froze.
Go home with him?
"This is… kind of fast," I hesitated.
"Not fast."
He was deadly serious. "Maybe it's fast for you, but for me, I've waited years for this day."
Years?
I was bewildered. "Didn't we just meet a few days ago?"
I and Lucy had known each other for ages, but I'd only heard of her brother—studied abroad, everyone knew the name but never the face.
Ethan smiled with flickers of something like starlight in his eyes. "I'll tell you later."
He kissed me quickly and added, "Go upstairs. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."
Then, soft and indulgent, he murmured, "Be good." It melted me.
I sighed and reluctantly went up.
I opened the door and found Mom pressed to the window, grinning—she'd been watching her future son-in-law.
Hearing the door, she turned to me with zero shame and all cheer. "Well? How was your date with my future son-in-law?"
Goosebumps ran up my arms.
My mom had never once called anyone "my treasure" referring to someone else, and now—she was full-on excited.
I managed a few words, then, because I couldn't help it, I told her, "Ethan asked me to go to his house tomorrow."
She exploded—in the best way. Instead of scolding him for moving too fast, she ran to my room to pick outfits.
I rubbed my temple and went to get changed.
Thinking about meeting Ethan's mom made my stomach flutter; I tossed and turned and then got a message from Ethan: "Get some rest. See you tomorrow morning."
Then he sent again, quick: "Goodnight, baby."
My chest bloomed with color.
The next day, Mom did my makeup herself and picked out a perfectly thoughtful outfit.
Just as I was ready, my phone rang. "Jenna, I'm sorry—something came up. Can you get there yourself? I'll be there soon."
I flipped into independent mode. "How big of a deal is it? Send the address and I'll take a taxi."
Ethan sounded rushed and genuinely flustered on the phone; he apologized repeatedly. I soothed him, took the address, and rode the subway.
After the subway I had two bus transfers.
On the bus I snagged a seat. A stop after mine, a well-dressed woman of about fifty climbed on carrying two large plastic bags. She looked like someone who shouldn't be on a bus.
The bus had no seats left. She clutched the pole and wobbled.
I stood and waved her over. "Ma'am, come sit here!"
She thanked me as I gave up my seat. We started chatting.
She was elegant and funny—completely unpretentious. I liked her instantly.
Funny coincidence: we were getting off at the same stop. I helped carry her bags. "So much! What did you buy?"
She smiled. "My son is bringing his girlfriend home today. I went to the best seafood market and lost track of time."
Before I could reply, someone darted past and I heard the woman scream, "Thief! He stole my bag!"
I dropped her bags and tore after the man.
Five minutes later, I had the scrawny, sharp-faced guy pinned down and was snorting in amused disbelief.
Are thieves being auditioned or something? Why are they all so slow? Why do they run like they have ankle weights and not put up a fight?
Unbelievable. They leave no room for me to show off.
At that moment the lady — Auntie — marched over with two huge bags of seafood swinging from her hands.
She dropped the bags in front of us, and then, unbelievably, lifted her foot and gave the thief a swift kick in the butt, shouting, “Damn it, you couldn’t steal from anyone else? You had to steal from me!”
I froze, loosening my hold on the thief’s hand just a bit. “Auntie, uh… is this your son?”
She shook her head as if it were the simplest thing in the world, instantly slipping back into that composed, graceful mask. “How could he be? Saying those words was just my tone — I was furious.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Who knew — Auntie had a temper after all.
So the two of us, me and this passionate lady, each gave the thief a couple kicks, scolded him thoroughly, and then, without thinking twice, let him go.
Why?
Because we didn’t have time to file a police report. She was in a hurry to get home and cook a seafood feast. I was in a hurry to meet my future mother-in-law.
She picked up her bags, glanced at my empty hands, and said, “Girl, you’re going to your future mother-in-law’s house empty-handed?”
I blinked. Suddenly it hit me — of course. I’d been so nervous and excited I’d forgotten the most basic courtesy.
“Is there a gift shop or supermarket nearby?” I asked quickly.
She smiled. “There used to be a big supermarket here, but it’s closed for renovations. Tell you what — take one of these bags of seafood.”
She generously handed me a large bag. “No problem. I actually had two. One was for my daughter-in-law to enjoy here, and the other to take home. Since we’re so fated, you can have one. I’ll pick one up for my daughter-in-law later.”
I peeked inside and my scalp tingled — she’d even included king crab and tiger prawns. She just gave it to me?
I didn’t dare refuse, but before I could even try, she was gone in a gust of motion.
She moved like a teenager — so quick and spry. I shook my head, thinking how nice it would be if I could stay that light on my feet when I’m old.
Following the address Ethan had texted me, I asked my way there.
His house was a detached villa.
Just as I reached the front gate, Ethan called, breathless and worried. “Jenna, where are you?”
“I’m at your door.”
He exhaled. “Wait for me a sec. I’ll be there.”
I stood there clutching the seafood bag and waited.
A black car screeched up and stopped. Ethan hurried out, apologetic. “Sorry — almost let you meet my mom alone.”
I didn’t think it was a big deal, but he looked genuinely guilty, like he’d wronged me somehow.
“Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s go in — your aunt might be impatient,” I urged.
He nodded, took the bag from me, slipped his other hand into mine, and led me inside.
At the door Ethan knocked. The door flew open and Lucy bounded out.
She sized me up and said, “Jenna, you’re actually looking pretty womanly today.”
Ethan corrected her immediately. “Call her sister-in-law.”
Lucy nearly bounced. “I’m not calling her that!”
Ethan pulled me in and handed me a pair of brand-new pink fuzzy slippers, shooting her a look. “Then don’t sit at the table.”
Lucy, a little intimidated by her brother, shot me an exasperated look and reluctantly called, “Sister-in-law.”
I smiled, and a voice from the kitchen suddenly cried out, “Is my daughter-in-law here?”
Wait. That voice sounded oddly familiar.
I looked up — it was the same passionate aunt from the street, now with an apron on and a spatula in her hand, staring at me in surprise.
The aunt — no, my future mother-in-law — and I locked eyes, stunned. Ethan, unsure what was happening, waved the plastic bag triumphantly. “Mom, Jenna bought all this seafood for you!”
He set the bag down and opened it. “Look — she bought king crab, black tiger prawns, and…”
“Small lobsters, abalone,” my future mother-in-law finished for him.
Ethan blinked. “How did you know?”
She looked at me and grinned. “A secret!”
She came over and took my hand. “Jenna, right? We really are fated.”
“You’ll be a daughter-in-law of the Chen family!” she gushed, inspecting my hand and teasing, “If Ethan marries you, he’s spoiling you rotten.”
Ethan: “…”
I, painfully lacking in social finesse, shook my head. “No, no — I’d be the one lucking out.”
She happily held my hand, beaming, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about how fierce she’d sounded back on the street when she shouted, “You had to steal from me?”
While she went to the kitchen to start cooking, I pulled Lucy aside.
“This isn’t right.”
Lucy popped a grape in her mouth. “What’s not right?”
I looked around at the luxurious decor. “I’ve been to your house so many times— when did you move into such a big place?”
“Oh.” Lucy popped another grape. “That was my place.”
“What do you mean?”
She poked my forehead with mock exasperation. “You’re dumb. I bought that place for school and work convenience.”
…A four-bedroom in the best part of the city, just bought on a whim because it was convenient?
“That’s not right,” I said, frowning. “I’ve met your mom a few times before — she wasn’t her.”
Lucy rolled her eyes at me. “You’ve always met our family’s housekeeper. She comes sometimes to tidy up.”
I stared. “Then why did I always call her ‘Auntie’ so naturally? Why didn’t you tell me she wasn’t your mom?”
Lucy shrugged. “You never asked.”
No wonder: I’d visited many times but rarely saw Lucy’s “mom.” The woman was quiet — polite, smiled, and got back to chores. I’d thought she was just very industrious. I never expected this.
“And… if your family is so rich, why does your ‘mom’ take the bus to buy groceries?” I asked.
Lucy sighed and popped another grape into my mouth. “It’s her hobby. She likes dressing up and fighting for seats on the bus — competing for speed with people.”
…Well, that’s an unusual hobby.
The meal was delightful — mostly because Ethan’s mother was so down-to-earth.
As Lucy put it, “My mom and you are totally simpatico.”
Ethan’s father came home from work for lunch. He and Ethan were alike — calm, reserved, polite, gentle. They didn’t press any pressure on you.
I relaxed more and more, and once Lucy, Ethan’s mom, and I had a few drinks, things spiraled.
At dinner, Lucy suggested drinking. Ethan’s mom looked at me and said softly, “Maybe not—”
Lucy didn’t even give me face. “It’s fine, Mom. She’ll get wild when she drinks!”
I really wished I’d taped her mouth shut when we walked in.
Still, Ethan’s mom produced an expensive-looking bottle of red wine. Lucy waved it away. “No, Mom. Jenna doesn’t like red. Let’s drink beer.”
Ethan’s mom and I hesitated, but Lucy insisted and asked the family driver to buy a few cases of beer.
Beer’s a magical thing. After ten or so bottles, we completely let loose. Ethan and his dad watched in stunned silence as the three of us stood on crates to chug, our voices filling the house with rowdy chants: “You lost, drink up!” “Drink up, are you raising fish or whales?”
I ditched the cup and drank straight from the bottle, sidling up to Ethan’s mom, looping my arm over her shoulder and clinking bottles like an old friend. When you’re drunk, the silly bits come out: “Auntie — bottoms up! Drink till we’re rich and famous… hic.”
Ethan’s mom clinked back, wholehearted. “Cheers — live for today, enjoy the wine, life’s too short to be tired!”
Lucy blinked at the two of us. “What about my line?”
Ethan’s mom and I exchanged a look and then eagerly taught her ridiculous drinking slogans: “Don’t ask my sign — I’m a wine-bottle sign, never been drunk in China!” and “If you won’t drink, I won’t drink — where would the good wine go? If you’re not drunk and I’m not drunk, who’s going to sleep on the curb?”
Ethan’s father watched, sighed, and gave his son a look that said, “You kid, you’re gonna end up like me.” They both laughed and went off to make honey water in the kitchen.
That night I drank too much.
Shamefully, my first blackout ever happened at Ethan’s house — and I blacked out with Ethan’s mom and Lucy.
They weren’t angels either. Poor Ethan and his dad had to look after us; Ethan took care of me while his father tended to Lucy and her mom.
I woke up on Ethan’s bed in the morning.
My head hurt and the hangover was raw. I rubbed my temples and tried to sit up, then noticed an arm draped across my waist.
I followed the arm with my eyes — someone was sleeping beside me.
A man.
Clear features, long lashes — sleeping soundly.
If it wasn’t Ethan, who else could it be?
A thunderclap hit my brain. I grabbed the sheet tight.
Could it be… that last night, when I blacked out, I slept with Ethan?
I kept rubbing my temples, full of remorse.
Not because of anything with Ethan — but because why on earth did I drink so much last night? I cursed myself for getting that drunk.
Wasn’t I supposed to be really happy?
How happy, exactly?
I didn’t remember a single thing — what a loss, what a rip-off… Just as I was about to bawl, a voice came from behind me: “You awake?”
It was Ethan’s voice.
Still a little hoarse from waking, he leaned in and wrapped his arms slowly around my waist.
I shivered, then suddenly felt that something was off… The hand on my waist felt like there was something between us.
I hurriedly looked down — it was his shirt.
I’d jumped to conclusions and hadn’t even noticed I was fully dressed. Not the disheveled mess I’d pictured.
So I turned to Ethan. “Last night…?”
He sat up, rubbed his forehead, then pressed a quick kiss to the corner of my eye. “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you before we’re married.”
“Oh…”
I said it, but it didn’t make me feel particularly happy.
Ethan noticed my mood and quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I mumbled. “Lucy said being in a relationship brings joy I can’t imagine. But I—haven’t felt that joy yet.”
He paused, then suddenly smiled.
Without warning he flipped me over and pinned me beneath him, his nose brushing mine as he murmured, “The joy of being in love is—”
His words faded as his lips trailed to my earlobe, kissing me softly from the lobe down to my neck.
It tickled, tingled.
I couldn’t help pulling my neck away, my hand pressed to his chest but totally useless.
Oh my god.
Is this what love feels like?
This is lethal.
Way more thrilling than solo gaming.
Just as my heart floated up and down, Ethan stopped, propped himself up, and looked down at me, a playful light in his eyes. “Is it fun?”
I pursed my lips, planning to deny it, but the words slipped out before I could stop them. “It’s… actually kind of fun.”
His smile brightened. He bent and kissed my lips once. “There’s more fun coming.”
Then he got up and headed to the bathroom.
The door closed and water began to run. He must be showering.
I lay there, Ethan’s words—there’s more fun coming—looping in my head.
This is torture.
If there’s more fun, why not start now?
When the water stopped, I hurried out of bed and went to the bathroom. Ethan was holding a brand-new toothbrush, squeezing toothpaste onto it for me.
I stepped forward, snatched the tube, and cornered him against the bathroom wall. “Ethan, let’s get married.”
“Huh?”
He froze, disbelief on his face.
I pressed harder. “Don’t worry about the details. My parents are totally reasonable. If we say yes, we can just do it.”
My boldness seemed to throw him.
He stared for a beat, then came back to himself, took the toothbrush from me, squeezed the paste just so, and handed it back. His smile was gentle. “Okay. If you want to marry me, I can anytime. But—”
He stretched the word out and ruffled my hair. “That’s more something a guy should say.”
His move inexplicably flustered me; my ears burned. I turned away and started brushing my teeth.
One month later.
I was married.
And of course the groom was Ethan.
Fast? Blazing fast. That morning Ethan and his parents showed up with expensive gifts and formally asked my parents for my hand.
My parents were oddly eager and agreed immediately.
The two families clicked, especially my mom and Ethan’s mom — they were like old friends in no time, holding hands and whispering.
Everything moved smoothly. Ethan took care of every detail. I didn’t need to lift a finger except to become his bride.
The wedding was beautiful.
But none of that mattered to me.
Because Ethan had told me the real joys weren’t for dating — they were for after marriage.
Finally the ceremony was over and I dragged him back to the bridal suite.
In the bedroom, I closed the door, grabbed his tie, and hauled him to the bed.
I shoved him down, grabbed my wedding dress, and straddled his lap.
Ethan didn’t resist. He let me have my way.
I was about to let loose when a thought hit me. “Ethan.”
I tugged his tie and asked, “You said you liked me for a long time. What did you mean? I don’t remember meeting you.”
He chuckled, eyes drifting over me as if recalling. “Two years ago I snuck back home to surprise Lucy. I went to her place and no one was there. I heard a game on in the bedroom—went in and saw you.”
I frowned and forced myself to remember.
So that day the guy wasn’t some distant cousin. He was Lucy’s actual brother.
Long story short: I’d run away after a fight with my mom and crashed at Lucy’s place all morning. She had to go out in the afternoon, so I played games in her room. Mid-game, a masked guy showed up who said he was her brother. I was in the zone and bossed him around all afternoon—“Make me a cup of tea, strong!” “Get me an orange, please!” “Bro—” I called him bro so many times I’d dragged him around ten times. I hadn’t really looked at him.
I’d even planned to take him out that night, but right after one match my mom called, threatening to smash my snacks, computer, and keyboard if I didn’t come back. So I answered the call and left in a rush.
Thinking back—he was Ethan, and the fact he could like me under those circumstances was a unique kind of taste.
He liked me and then waited two years for Lucy to make a move. He was so secretly hot-blooded. Hmph!
I broke out of my memory and glanced down at Ethan on the bed. I waved a dismissive hand. “None of that matters.”
I licked my lips. “Right now the important thing is—”
I hooked a finger under his chin in a mock-kingly tone and teased, “The important thing is you make me feel good.”
He laughed, flipped me, and pinned me beneath him. His hands finally found me.
Ethan fumbled with my dress, managed to pull it off, and whipped the comforter over us, cocooning us together.
I was nervous and excited.
I wanted to know what Lucy had meant about the joys of being in love.
But a moment later I was shouting.
“Ethan, you liar!!
This is not fun, it hurts!!”
I shoved him hard. “You said it would be fun! It’s killing me!”
Ethan bent and kissed my eyelids, voice soft. “Sweetheart, the fun is coming soon.”
Liars. All of them.
