"Isn’t this too cheap?"
I felt a little embarrassed.
Hazel said, "Nathan’s brother isn’t short on properties. He won’t care about your little rent money—whether you pay more or less, it’s all the same. Don’t worry."
I’d met Ethan a few times—baby-faced, designer brands, a flashy car; the classic second-generation rich kid.
He and Hazel met through mahjong; they hit it off. When Hazel mentioned she was helping me look for a place, Ethan pushed this one for us.
His brother was probably similar—nice and helpful.
Hazel and Ethan handled the viewing and the lease. I had no big issues, so everything was settled in two days.
Before leaving, Ethan even said, "My brother’s an orthopedic doctor. If you somehow hurt yourself, you can call him."
Hazel shot back, "Can you not be such a jinx? We just signed the contract and you’re wishing someone break an arm?"
"Oh! My bad, my bad. Then I wish you never have any contact with my brother."
That line sounded weird.
I laughed it off. "I’ll take your good wishes."
Of course, the very next day I slipped and landed straight on my butt in the bathroom.
Damn it.
Thankfully Hazel stayed overnight the first day of the move to help me settle in. She was in the bedroom and came running when she heard me yell.
On the way to Harborview Medical Center, Hazel roasted Ethan for being a jinx while I could barely speak from the pain.
At the hospital, after an X-ray the doctor said I’d injured my coccyx—minor fracture of the sacrococcyx. It wasn’t severe, but I needed to be observed for a few days.
When I heard that I nearly blacked out. "What about work?"
"Work? Quit being ridiculous. You need to rest."
I’m a model. After graduation I joined a studio run by an older student from college. She did the designs; I did the shoots. We worked well together.
I called her and she immediately approved the time off, telling me to rest and come back when I was better.
She was kind, and I wanted to cry.
Bad luck piled on bad luck. I had just paid six months’ rent and lost a previous deposit—big expenses—and now this.
I lay on the bed moaning, "Why am I so unlucky?"
Hazel was angrier than me; she tore into Ethan over the phone.
Ethan sounded stunned, then scrambled to fix it. "No, no, it’s fine. My brother’s an expert in this stuff. You’re at Harborview, right? I’ll call him."
Nathan didn’t come until the next morning.
I hadn’t slept well because of the pain; my face was puffy from the night.
Maybe the nurse told the attending physician about how sore my butt had been last night, because the first thing the doctor asked when he came in was, "Feeling any better?"
I shot him a side-eye, ready to cry. "Not at all."
A voice suddenly cut in behind him: "Take your pants off so I can look."
My ears went numb. As the nurse moved, I looked toward the voice.
He stepped forward and our eyes met.
Thick brows, long features, narrow double-eyelids—his pupils black as ink.
We only locked eyes for a second, but I felt like the top of my head had been opened and cold air poured in.
…Much like my poor butt that had just been exposed.
I immediately buried my face.
Why hadn’t Ethan told me his brother was Nathan Bennett?
My history with Nathan goes back to school.
I was a second-year high schooler; he was a senior.
Rumors about us ran wild—detailed, juicy. But the truth was, we didn’t even know each other.
Before those rumors started, my reputation wasn’t great. A boy in the next class confessed to me; I turned him down. Feeling humiliated, he spread stories that I’d been leading him on, that I hooked up with people around school and off-campus.
He even claimed I liked Nathan, but that Nathan couldn’t stand me, so I became a joke.
Nathan was drop-dead gorgeous and a top student, famous across our school and even the whole district. That boy probably thought dragging Nathan into it would make the story more believable—after all, lots of people liked Nathan, but he hardly paid attention to anyone.
At first, the gossip followed that script. Because I did photo gigs after school, some adults knew me. People overheard and talked, half-truths becoming whole lies. I had a miserable time.
But I have a stubborn streak; no matter how crushed I felt, I pretended not to care.
Then somehow the narrative flipped: suddenly people said Nathan was pursuing me and I was hesitating.
Rumors evolved until people claimed we were together. I swear on the heavens, I didn’t even know him.
Still, getting linked to Nathan pulled me out of a little school ostracism. From a certain angle I felt grateful to him—even if he probably didn’t know I existed.
"Did you have a bowel movement last night?"
The question jerked me back to reality.
Of all times, I absolutely should not have been getting familiar with Nathan under these circumstances.
I bit my tongue and convinced myself he wouldn’t remember me. "Yes, I did."
"Try to lie prone when you can these days. Sit less. If the bones shift when you sit, bowel movements will hurt even more."
Please, can we stop talking about bowel movements?
I nodded robotically, my face still buried in the pillow, struggling to breathe.
"N—Ran," Nathan said, dragging out my surname for effect before saying my given name.
Had he recognized me? Panic flushed hot in my cheeks and my voice shook. "Hm?"
But he smiled. "Don’t you find talking like that dull? You can lie prone, but your head can still move."
I hesitated, then slowly turned my head and showed my face.
Nathan caught my gaze instantly. Even behind a mask his features were unforgettable.
"Ethan asked me to come by and check on you," he said, bending slightly, voice low. "Don’t worry. It’ll be fine."
I blinked; my breathing slowed. "Okay. Thank you."
"Mm. Rest well."
He had more rounds to do and left soon after.
The room fell quiet.
I lay there looking at the kettle on the bedside table. Nathan really didn’t remember me as his rumored girlfriend. I should’ve been relieved.
Still, it felt strange—I’d recognized him at a glance behind a mask, and he didn’t know me at all. For some reason I felt a little disappointed.
I stayed in the hospital for five days.
I didn’t see Nathan often. One, my bone wasn’t broken enough for surgery; two, there wasn’t a medical reason to have him "work" on my butt. That left his visits sparse—basically appearances to save Ethan face.
On discharge day he came to my room. Seeing my awkward stance, he knew it was leftover effects from lying prone too long.
"Don’t sit for too long after you go home," he said. "Take your meds on time. If anything comes up, call me."
"Can I eat McDonald’s?" I asked.
I’ve never been one to give up favorite foods. After days of bland broths I was craving comfort.
He glanced at me. "You can."
Relief lit my face.
He added, "You can have the McDonald’s corn cup. Hold off on other stuff for now."
"…"
He smiled and checked his watch. "I can’t drive you home. Did your friend drive?"
I was surprised—he actually offered to take me home? That was above and beyond.
"Yeah, she drove."
"Tell her to drive slowly. If possible, get a cushion—nothing too soft, one with a hole in the middle to help the coccyx heal."
I nodded. "Got it."
"Also—"
I frowned, already guessing what he would say.
He couldn’t help it: "If you’re constipated, you might not be finding the right muscles. Use your usual toilet at home, relax, and it should pass."
…Please stop talking about toilets.
Back home, I gave the new apartment another once-over.
It was a bit bigger than a typical studio. Since it was newly on the market, the appliances and furniture were new and complete. Overall very nice.
The key part? This place actually belonged to Nathan Bennett.
And I was living in it.
Does this count as making our old rumor real?
If those high school kids knew I was living in Nathan’s house now, the class chat would explode. Life is unpredictable.
Even if you’d told me back then I’d one day have Nathan see my butt, I wouldn’t have believed you.
Hazel had been with me the past few days, neglecting her own boyfriend. At dinner he called her three times. Seeing her torn, I urged her to go—stop standing him up.
After she left, I flopped on the couch and was about to order delivery.
When I saw McDonald’s on the app, my thumb froze.
I closed the app, opened my contacts, and found Nathan’s number. Before, I had him saved only as "landlord."
Ethan had said to contact the landlord if anything came up. I copied his number and searched him on WeChat.
I actually found him.
His avatar was a deep sea; his ID was Nathan Bennett.
I hit "Add Friend."
I expected it would take a while, but less than thirty seconds later he accepted.
The message popped up: I accepted your friend request; now we can chat.
I stared at the few big words, a bit stunned. Normally I should start the conversation.
But Nathan beat me to it: "Ran?"
I took a breath and replied: It’s me.
Nathan: Are you in pain anywhere?
I scrubbed at my hair, feeling a little ridiculous for adding him out of the blue.
After a long pause I typed: I saw McDonald’s on the delivery app—when can I have McDonald’s?
The second the message sent, I regretted it. Terrible excuse.
A minute later: Nathan replied: Bear with it.
I tossed my phone aside, the chat dead.
Not long after, my phone buzzed again.
Nathan: Open the door.
I sent a question mark.
Nathan: I have McDonald’s.
Me: …When it finally dawned on me what he meant, I stuck out my butt and hurried to the entryway to open the door.
Outside stood Nathan Bennett, holding an insulated food container and a brown paper bag with a big "m" stamped on it.
"What are you doing here?"
He didn’t flinch while I was still half asleep. "Ethan asked me to take care of you."
…Ethan was just a jinx with words, but the follow-up compensation was awfully thorough.
"Are you in debt to Ethan?" I couldn’t help asking.
Otherwise, I didn’t know why he was so obedient to Ethan.
Nathan blinked. "No."
He carried his things inside. The way he took off his shoes felt natural—like he already lived here.
He set the food on the dining table and said, "The pork rib soup was cooked by our housekeeper. Eating ribs is good for bone recovery."
My attention, however, was on the McDonald’s bag. I opened it—just a corn cup.
Seeing my disappointed face, Nathan said, "I saw it on the way and grabbed it."
Only then did something click. "You went out of your way to bring me soup?"
He looked at me, half-amused.
"What are you thinking?"
Now that he wasn’t wearing a mask, his features were so striking my ears heated up.
I took a small step back. "I… I’m just a little surprised…"
"Don’t be," Nathan said slowly. "I live across from you. Coming over was just on my way home."
"You live across from me? Like, here?"
"Mm," he nodded, and in the calmest tone dropped the most expensive line: "This whole floor is mine."
…
Thanks to Ethan, Nathan and I became meal buddies.
Translation: I was freeloading off Nathan’s food.
My check-up on my butt wasn’t for another month, which meant I could mooch from Nathan for a whole month—thirty days straight.
I almost laughed out loud thinking about it.
Because Nathan’s housekeeper cooked amazingly well!
At first I felt a little embarrassed and would only go when Nathan proactively texted me. I was awkward and hesitant.
But after a few visits my face thickened. I no longer needed his invitation; when dinner time rolled around I’d happily buzz his doorbell.
This building had three units per floor with different layouts. Nathan had knocked two units together and renovated, giving him at least three times the space of my apartment.
The first time I came I was seething with jealousy.
I’d heard he had other properties. People like that really make you mad—when would I ever become a landlord like him?
Not realistic for now—back to slogging through another week of work. I should just savor today’s pork tail soup.
The housekeeper had told me yesterday she’d be making pork tail today, and I’d been craving it all day.
I stood at Nathan’s door before six o’clock. The door was unlocked.
"Nathan?" I pushed it open and saw the dinner spread on the table at a glance.
The housekeeper had finished and left, but Nathan’s shoes were in the entryway—he must be home.
"Nathan!" I called a little louder this time.
The master bedroom door flew open. Nathan stood in the doorway, his body three-quarters hidden by the door.
His hair was wet, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and a slightly loose towel was wrapped around his waist… This kind of obvious concealment just makes your imagination run wild.
I gaped and froze solid.
Silence hung for a few seconds.
Nathan glanced back at the digital clock. "You came early."
My eyes darted, not knowing where to look.
"Should I go then?" I pointed to the door.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, sit. I’ll put on some clothes."
When the bedroom door shut I breathed like I’d been saved. I had seen Nathan’s abs. And the V-line.
Help!
Even though I’ve seen plenty in photos, this was the first time I was face to face with a half-naked specimen like this.
I sat at the table but didn’t feel ravenous. I rested my head on my arms, part embarrassed, part savoring the image.
I grew hotter the more I thought about it and didn’t even hear when Nathan came back out.
He patted my head. "You okay?"
The warmth from his damp hair made my heart flutter. I lifted my head—and was disappointed to see him wearing a T-shirt. "Oh, you’re dressed."
He raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"…I mean," my hands fumbled for the right words, "you look good in it."
Nathan looked at me and smiled for no reason. "Your face is very red."
"Huh? Really?"
He poured me a cup of chrysanthemum tea. "Drink this. It’s good for cooling down."
I stared at the single chrysanthemum floating in the tea, speechless. That little flower probably wouldn’t touch the fire in my chest.
When I didn’t drink, Nathan reached across and rested the back of his hand against my forehead.
I held my breath. My palm shook, the tea and the chrysanthemum bobbed.
"Claire," Nathan said, lowering his hand but staying close. Our knees touched.
"Hm?" I kept still and stared at his face—so handsome. Who could keep composure?
Then he said, "You seem to have a fever."
"Huh?"
On the phone, Hazel laughed like she’d won the lottery. "So you actually got a fever?"
I peeled off a fever patch. "You can laugh louder."
Dinner had been at Nathan’s place. When he said I had a fever, I felt guilty and used it as an excuse to leave without eating pork tail soup.
But at home my temperature read thirty-eight point five—definitely a fever.
Guess I went feverish at the sight of a handsome man.
After hanging up, I took a shower, thinking I’d feel better. Instead my head throbbed and my whole body was burning.
Usually when I’m sick I take medicine and sleep it off. This time felt different.
My sleep was restless—lots of dreams, a foggy head, stomach pain.
When Nathan called, I couldn’t tell dream from reality. I vaguely remember him asking if the fever had broken and asking other things I couldn’t hear clearly. My answers were nonsense.
Just before slipping away, I seemed to hear a door open and hazily saw Hazel with a worried expression. Behind her was Nathan.
"I thought your fever was dramatic exaggeration, but it’s acute gastroenteritis," the doctor said later.
Two weeks after, I was back at the hospital.
I said weakly, "It must’ve been the congee I ate for lunch yesterday."
Nathan had told me before that when he wasn’t around I could still come over to eat, but even with a thick skin, I knew it would add work for the housekeeper. So I only came when he was home.
I hadn’t eaten at his that night, so by elimination it had to be the takeout lunch.
"Which place? I want to complain!" Hazel grabbed my phone and I chuckled dryly. "For a while I honestly thought I had a fever from seeing Nathan’s muscles. Glad it’s not—too embarrassing otherwise."
He Taught My Heart to Choose
Hazel stopped scrolling and looked up. "When Nathan called me yesterday—that's what really scared me. You have no idea how anxious he sounded, but he had to stay calm; his voice was shaking…"
When Nathan called late, he could've just come over—he had a key—but he contacted Ethan for Hazel's number first.
"If I didn't live nearby, he might have busted the door down. For someone in that state to consider your feelings…" Hazel said, impressed. "He must have gotten attached from eating together a few times."
My chest softened. I thought of how he cradled me, how warm his chest felt against me. It wasn't like Hazel changing my clothes—his touch had been gentle but strong. With every step I could hear his heartbeat, and it was scorching.
Hazel pressed on. "I asked Ethan if he told his brother to look after you. Guess what he said?"
I suddenly felt nervous. "What?"
"Ethan said he only contacted his brother while you were in the hospital. Everything else? Not his business."
Hazel cupped her face, smiling. "Claire, your landlord definitely likes you."
Nathan likes me?
I replayed the last two weeks. All we'd done was eat together. Why would he like me? Can't be my table manners. And I haven't worn makeup in two weeks because I was sick and staying in.
Oh my God—what image have I been presenting to Nathan all this time? A slovenly homebody?
I couldn't possibly put on makeup now, so when Nathan came that afternoon I kept my head down and barely looked at him.
He asked what was wrong. I awkwardly covered my face. "I didn't wash my face."
He tilted his head and our eyes met before I could look away. I blinked.
He stared. "Doesn't look any different than usual."
I glared and lowered my hands. "That's because I usually don't wear makeup."
He nodded and poured me a cup of water. "You look nice even without makeup."
My breath hitched. "Really?"
"Nope," he smiled. "Drink."
I stuck out my tongue, took the cup, and drank.
"Tomorrow I'll have the housekeeper bring you meals," Nathan said. I still had two more days before discharge and then I'd go straight back to work.
"Isn't that too much trouble?" I asked.
"No."
I held the cup and thought about what Hazel said. After hesitating I asked, "Is this something Ethan asked you to do?"
Nathan sat back, legs crossed, one hand holding an apple, the other a paring knife. At my question, his knife paused.
"No," he said, continuing to peel the apple. "I wanted to."
After discharge I returned to work.
Maya Collins hired another girl while I was out—still in college, doing summer help. We shot a few new sets together and finished late.
I usually don't look at my phone during shoots, but after work I checked and found a message from Nathan: Remember to balance work and rest.
I've been too busy to visit Nathan lately. He gets tied up with surgeries and all-nighters. Still, we haven't lost touch.
As for why I didn’t cut him off, I can’t really explain.
After my stomach flu, something between us shifted and we suddenly felt closer.
We barely had time to meet in person, but our conversations grew a lot more frequent.
It was like standing still.
And like getting closer, step by step.
Neither of us had taken that step, yet every sign said the distance was slowly shrinking.
“What are you smiling at like that?”
Maya leaned in. I reflexively locked my phone and said, “Nothing.”
“Is there something going on?”
I felt a little guilty. “No…”
She hummed and asked, “You okay today? Feeling any worse?”
I shook my head and casually asked, “Lily—was she only here for that shoot? She’s done after this?”
Lily was the summer temp Maya had found; after the shoot she left.
“Probably,” Maya said. “School starts next month anyway.”
“How did you find her? She really looks good on camera—matches the brand vibe.”
“She came to us,” Maya said. “A lucky break.”
Maya put her arm around my shoulder. “But I still like you best. You get better and get back to work fast, okay? When you’re gone I lose out big time.”
…When I got home, I was still switching shoes when Nathan messaged: Home?
I glanced back: Home.
Nathan: Want a late-night snack?
I leaned against the door and sent a deliberate question mark.
Nathan: Aunt made coconut jelly today. I can’t finish it myself.
I laughed out loud. Fine—I’ll reluctantly help you.
By the time I crossed the hall I didn’t even ring the bell; Nathan had already opened the door.
This might have been the first time he’d seen me in full makeup.
I was wearing colored contacts and black-frame glasses perched on my nose.
He stared at me for a second, then I felt nervous. “Is my makeup smeared?”
“No.”
He cleared his throat and repeated, “Not smeared.”
I looked at him puzzled, then my attention was stolen by the coconut jelly on the table.
It was the trendy dessert I’d mentioned to Mrs. Walker a while ago—hadn’t expected her to actually make it.
I’d barely sat when Nathan said, “It’s cold. Eat less.”
“….”
I paused with my spoon. “I’m curious—are you like this with other people?”
“With what?”
“Like a worried, old father telling someone what they can and can’t do.”
Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose with a helpless tilt. “I probably don’t have that many ‘daughters.’”
I blinked. “You’re taking advantage of me.”
“Who’s taking advantage of who?”
There was amusement in his eyes; when he looked at me they somehow lit up.
I, sadly, felt my heart speed up.
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
I breathed a sudden sigh of relief and jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow—there was a flicker of curiosity on his face, as if wondering who’d come by at this hour.
I didn’t overthink it; I assumed it was the delivery he’d ordered and bounded to the door.
“Lily?”
I stared at Lily standing there, stunned for a moment.
I’d forgotten I was at Nathan’s place, not my own apartment. “Are you looking for me?”
Lily frowned but smiled. She didn’t answer me—she stepped past and looked straight at Nathan behind me.
Her smile was bright. “Nathan, I brought late-night snacks.”
Lily is the daughter of a friend of Nathan’s mother. She came to Seattle for college last year, and her family asked Nathan to help look after her when he had time.
She was supposed to go home for the summer, but for some reason she returned early and took a job.
…My best friend had heard this from Ethan.
Hazel said: “Taking care of her should’ve been Ethan’s job—he’s about the same age. But she really likes Nathan.”
I remembered last night, how awkward it was when Lily knocked and I thought she’d come for me. I’d made a fool of myself.
I didn’t stay long. I told Nathan, “Since you have company, I’ll go.”
I don’t know when Lily left after that.
Later I told Hazel: “The temporary model Maya found while I was out sick? It was her.”
Hazel’s voice went up a notch. “What a coincidence. You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you?”
“Why would she?”
“For attention. You were plastered all over social media—she could look you up easily.”
“We’re not even together,” I said.
“Sooner or later. Claire, you better move fast. Don’t let her get in first.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Nathan isn’t a thing you can grab. Besides, if they actually end up together, then he probably wasn’t right for me.”
Still, after the call I found myself staring out on the balcony for a long time.
I’m not the type to make the first move. I’ve always believed: what’s mine is mine. If I have to fight to keep it, I’d rather let it go.
Someone who agonizes between two people doesn’t actually like you that much.
But Lily’s arrival made me uneasy. Their relationship looked close, and their parents knew each other… Hazel insisted Nathan liked me, but what if I was imagining it?
Compared to Lily, I had no edge.
I pulled up Nathan’s message from last night: You haven’t finished the coconut jelly yet.
I hadn’t replied.
“You already had shredded chicken—are you still craving coconut jelly?” I told myself, and shut my phone.
The set for the shoot was ready and I focused on work instead of thoughts.
I spent the morning shooting. Lily only showed up in the afternoon—she had taken half a day off and brought coffee for everyone.
“Claire, this is for you.”
She handed me an oat latte. I had to admire her thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”
“No big deal.”
She smiled with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t get to say hi yesterday—sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.”
“You live across from Nathan now?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve wanted to live there for ages, but he never wanted anyone staying in his place—said he wasn’t used to others living there.”
“I thought he was just picky,” I said. “Then half a month ago I heard he’d rented the place out. I was so mad.”
She rushed to add, “I’m not mad at you, Claire. Don’t take it wrong.”
“I’m not.”
Her comment made me zone out. So Nathan wasn’t used to others living in his place—so why did he rent to me?
“How long did you rent it for?” she asked.
“Six months.”
“Wow.”
She smiled. “Because I’d really like to live there.”
I looked at her. She was blunt. “Claire, you and Nathan—you two aren’t…together, right?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Lily said, “I like Nathan. I want to pursue him.”
She was serious.
After work that night she walked me to the door, saying she wanted to drop something off for Nathan. It was at Nathan’s mother’s request—Lily had been staying at the Nathan family’s place while school was out.
Their closeness and the way she talked made it obvious Mrs. Bennett liked her.
I couldn’t pinpoint the feeling inside me—just a dull, numb ache, like something sharp scraping along my skin.
When I heard Lily ring his doorbell I found myself opening the door faster than usual.
Inside I saw Nathan coming to the door. He was looking at me, his expression wanting to say something, but he had to turn back to Lily.
I shut the door as he looked down. My mood plummeted.
I had no right to stop Lily from chasing Nathan, but hearing her say it made me want to tell her to give up right then.
What were they doing together? The urge to eavesdrop at my own door was suddenly irrationally strong.
While I was caught up in my feelings, I heard the door across open. I hurried and pressed myself to the peephole.
Through it I saw Lily and Nathan. He’d changed clothes—seemed like he was heading out. He looked, for a beat, toward my door.
I knew he couldn’t see me crouched there, but I still covered my mouth and crouched lower, guilty.
I could even hear the elevator doors opening and closing on the other side.
I waited long after that but didn’t hear them come back in. They left together.
Nathan hadn’t returned to the apartment afterward.
Living across the hall didn’t mean we’d see each other every day. I’d learned that the hard way.
Days passed with no sign of him. Lily also quit the job at the studio early. Maya praised her and paid her for an extra day—said she’d done well.
I stared at our chat history; the last message was from the night Nathan and Lily left. He’d said: I’m going home for a bit.
I sent a thumbs-up sticker. He never replied.
Because he didn’t reply, I regretted sending the sticker. I should’ve let the conversation end on his message.
“Is Lily dating him now?” Maya’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“What do you mean dating?” I asked.
“Her Moments.”
“I didn’t add her.”
“Oh.” Maya handed me her phone. “She just posted. Who posts a random guy’s photo unless they’re together? Looks like a handsome back.”
Her caption read, "The sunset is beautiful," and the photo showed a man’s back standing on a terrace, phone to his ear, the world and sunset behind him.
It was Nathan.
Seeing Lily’s post and remembering that Nathan hadn’t replied to me, I did something stupid: I deleted him.
But right after I did it, regret flooded in.
No matter what, he was my landlord. And we hadn’t defined anything between us. Even if there was something with Lily, and even if Nathan was ambiguous, deleting him might make things even more awkward for me later.
What if he refused to let me stay? Then I’d have to find a new place.
I made dozens of excuses for myself and then felt worse, so I googled: If you delete someone on WeChat and then add them again, will they know?
The answer: no.
I breathed a sigh of relief but still wasn’t ready to add him back. I wanted to feel stubborn about it.
I dawdled and, by the time I got home, I still hadn’t re-added him.
Hazel called to ask how things were going. With a face mask on, I summarized my emotional day in a few sentences: “If I add him back it’ll be awkward, but not adding makes me feel childish. I’m losing my mind.”
Hazel was gleeful. “Even if Lily posted that photo, doesn’t mean they’re together.”
"But they've probably been together all these days. Nathan hasn't messaged me in days."
"It is weird. Want me to ask Ethan? Use a roundabout tactic."
"No. Ethan doesn't even know about Nathan and me. You asking all the time would be awkward. If word gets back to Nathan and he doesn't mean anything by it, won't I die of embarrassment?"
"You're just too proud—classic look-good-at-any-cost, suffer-in-silence type."
Hazel clicked her tongue, then added, "But this is the first time I've seen you like this. You always said you'd stay single forever, and look at you now."
Hazel and I met in college; she didn't know about Nathan and me in high school.
She certainly didn't know that, as a kid, I used to be a hopeless fangirl—always chasing someone new, flitting from crush to crush, but never serious about any of them.
When I first heard of Nathan Bennett, I liked him briefly too. That feeling was fuzzy—more admiration than love—because I never got close to him, and later there were rumors.
Back then I couldn't have imagined I'd be caught up with Nathan now. If I'd known, I would have chased him.
But you get older and your boldness thins. I stopped being impulsive; even my courage to speak up got worn down by life.
Just as I was sinking into disappointment, the doorbell rang and I jumped.
Hazel heard it too. "Who could it be this late?"
"I have no idea."
I peeked through the peephole—and froze.
"Uh—I have to go."
"Is it Nathan? You hung up on me for him!"
Hazel yelled, but I mercilessly hit end.
My heart pounding, I opened the door.
Nathan was startled too. It dawned on me that I still had a green face mask on.
"Wait here."
I scrambled to wash my face. When I came back, he was still standing there, unmoving.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. "You're back."
What a terrible line. It sounded like a resentful housewife greeting a worthless husband.
"Yeah."
He looked exhausted. "I texted you."
Oh no. Caught.
I froze, scrambling for an excuse, when he said, "Claire, can I hug you?"
What?
His grandmother had had an accident—she'd gone downstairs and suddenly blacked out, stumbled, and fell. Elderly bodies are fragile; he had been rushing around and didn't have time to check his phone. This afternoon, after they said she was out of danger, he tried to message me but the text failed.
He'd come straight over without resting.
…Was it too late to take back my refusal to his hug? My first reaction had been to shake my head. I regretted it. Regretted it even more than deleting him from my contacts.
What's wrong with letting him hug me?
But what if he's fickle? Refusal felt safer at the time.
I made a mountain out of a molehill in the few seconds it took to pour water.
Then I steadied myself and carried the glass out.
"Drink."
"Thanks."
Nathan took the water but didn't drink. He watched me. "Why did you delete me?"
Of course he'd ask.
"Finger slipped. Believe me?"
"What do you think?"
…
I should've expected he had seen Lily Chang's Moments post.
"No posts showed up for you."
He said, "She didn't post anything."
Impossible. Panic rising, I grabbed his wrist and checked his phone—he really couldn't see Lily's post.
"She blocked you," I concluded.
He didn't answer. When I looked at him, I realized we were almost touching—only a palm's width apart. The atmosphere felt suddenly intimate.
I should say something. "This afternoon, Lily posted a photo of you to her Moments."
"So you're jealous," he said, gazing at me like it was obvious. "So you deleted me."
…
He didn't need to be so confident about it.
"Lily and I… it's nothing," he explained. "She's my mom's friend's daughter. She's staying at my house as a guest for now. She sometimes asks me for help, and I help because she's a guest, not because of anything else."
I hadn't expected him to explain so much. Surprised by his instincts, I finally murmured, "Oh."
"You're not mad anymore?"
"I'm not mad," I said stubbornly.
"Can you add me back?"
"It really was a slip…" I muttered.
He smiled. After a beat he said softly, "I've been meaning to contact you these past few days. Claire, I'm sorry."
So he knew. More than Lily's posts, it was his silence that upset me. I didn't want to lie that his absence didn't matter. He didn't owe me an explanation, but the blankness felt real—my overthinking, my melancholy, his silence made me feel unimportant.
If he'd told me, I wouldn't have been so anxious. Some things you shouldn't overthink—too much scrutiny traps you in a web. One line sums up everything: damn this ambiguous period.
I conceded. "Don't do this again."
"I promise, no more."
I wanted to ask what role he was using to make that promise—was he the landlord? Or something else? But he looked exhausted. So I asked, "If I say I can hug you now, is it too late?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he opened his arms and pulled me close.
Nathan's hug smelled faintly of disinfectant. I froze at first, then my tense body loosened with his breathing.
We hugged for a long time.
"I have to go back to the hospital soon," he said.
"Okay…" I was clumsy with words in his arms. "Be careful on the way."
"Are you free next Wednesday?"
"For what?"
"I have two movie tickets. Do you want to use them with me?"
To go to that movie, I shifted my schedule and worked two late nights straight.
On Wednesday he came by right as I changed clothes. Since we met, I'd never worn a dress around him. He stared and I squirmed, snapping, "What are you looking at?"
"You're beautiful."
My face burned. "Isn't that obvious?"
He agreed. I touched my nose, unable to say more. He was too obliging; it made me self-conscious.
The mall where the theater was wasn't close. Nathan drove; I sat in the passenger seat. I scanned the car interior—neat, no trace of another girl's stuff. Fine, I admitted I was petty. I still couldn't get past Lily.
Rush hour slowed traffic. Nathan told me not to use my phone and put on music. Coincidentally, he played songs I liked and I hummed along. The music cut—someone was calling.
We both looked. It was Lily.
I glanced at Nathan, who wasn't moving. "You have a call."
Hands on the wheel, he said, "You answer it for me."
My heart skipped. I said okay and took the call, then stayed quiet and looked out the window.
Lily's voice came through: "Nathan, Aunt said you were off today and wanted to know if you'd come home for dinner."
He replied casually, "I have plans."
There was a pause—us in the car both stunned. I could feel my face go warm through the glass.
"Who with?" Lily asked.
"Claire," he said after a beat. "Claire, you know her."
My ears burned. Lily went silent.
"Any other questions?" Nathan asked.
"Are you and Claire… seeing each other?"
I closed my eyes, mortified on behalf of them both. I wanted to tell her her speakerphone was on, that I could hear everything, but I couldn't. I had to hold it in.
"No," Nathan said.
When I opened my eyes, our reflections met in the window. He smiled at me—was he answering Lily or me?
"I'm planning to confess today. Not sure if she'll say yes."
I… had no reply.
We watched a popcorn movie. I usually loved these kinds of silly films, but today my mind kept replaying Nathan's line in the car—was that a confession? If it wasn't, why say it in front of me? If it was, I'd missed the moment to respond.
In the theater I only really saw the final kiss between the leads. A couple beside us kissed in perfect timing, and I pressed my hand to my forehead, waiting for the lights to come up.
My wrist was grabbed. I looked over, surprised. The house lights were just coming on.
Nathan pulled me to my feet, then leaned close to my ear and said, "Come on. No more surprises."
"…Okay."
Dazed, I let him lead me out, forgetting to pull my hand back.
We'd eaten before the movie. I figured Nathan would head home right after, but he asked, "Some friends of mine are nearby having drinks. Haven't seen them in ages—kept nagging me to come. Want to join?"
Meet friends?
"Can we just go home first?" I asked.
He smiled oddly. "If you want to go home first, that's fine."
I realized the double meaning and hurriedly waved my hands. "I didn't mean it like that…"
He kept smiling, which only made things feel worse. Finally I said, "Never mind. Let's go meet your friends."
"Okay."
From the theater to the parking lot he held my hand the whole way, only letting go when we climbed into the car.
I snuck a look at my palm and it was still warm—his heat.
Nathan's friends were at a bar called Walnut, two blocks away. We had barely stepped inside when someone came up to us.
He seemed to know Nathan, greeting him with a grin. When he noticed me, his smile turned sleazier. "This is your girlfriend, right?"
My mouth went dry. I instinctively tried to pull my hand away—the one Nathan had taken when we got out of the car—but he tightened his grip.
I didn't pull back.
"Lead the way," Nathan said.
Neither denying nor admitting.
My stomach flipped; I couldn't tell what he was playing at.
His friend hugged Nathan with one arm like old times. "Man, you're impossible to get ahold of now."
Nathan said, "Someone's keeping me company."
I kept my head down, wondering who he'd been keeping company with these past days, when a pair of shoes suddenly filled my view.
I looked up and Nathan's friend's face was enormous above me.
I jumped and almost fell, but Nathan steadied my waist in time.
"You're Claire?" the friend asked.
Nathan's look shut him down; he took half a step back.
He rubbed his chin, thinking. "You look kinda familiar… and your name rings a bell."
I stared at him for two seconds and realized I felt the same.
Then he asked, "Did you go to Waverly High?"
I blinked. "You went to my school?"
He gave Nathan a disbelieving look, and in two seconds everything clicked for him.
He took a sip. "I must be a year ahead of you."
I realized what he meant and glanced at Nathan.
Nathan just raised an eyebrow at me.
The friend went on, "You're the girl they'd always talk about back then—the little model rumored to be Nathan's girlfriend, right?"
In sophomore year I had shot a few magazine covers—teen magazines—and everyone in class teased me, calling me "the model" all the time.
Hearing that nickname again, and from one of Nathan's friends no less, felt strange.
I looked at Nathan, surprised, but he didn't seem shocked at all.
Had he recognized me back then? He'd never said a word—ever since the hospital, he had been acting like Ethan Bennett's older brother to me.
I was full of questions but couldn't ask right away. After we left Walnut, I finally said, "You knew who I was the whole time?"
"Do you mean the Claire from high school, or the Claire you are now?"
"Of course the high school one."
Nathan nodded. "I knew."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
He smiled and asked, "Because you didn't want me to know, remember?"
"…"
Was I that obvious?
"Isn't it because of where you were hurt," I started to explain, then trailed off.
Nathan patted my head; there was still a faint scent of cigarette on him. "I knew."
I looked down. "I thought you wouldn't remember me."
"Why would I forget my girlfriend?" he asked.
My breath caught. "But that wasn't real."
"You might not know, but my friends all thought you two were together."
Whenever they saw her in school, even from far away, they'd say, "Look—your little girlfriend."
"Didn't you deny it?" I asked.
"Why would I deny it?"
We stopped walking. I'm tall for a girl, but Nathan is another head taller.
He said, "That rumor started with me. Why would I deny it?"
Back in high school, after I turned someone down, a nasty rumor spread that I had a messy private life. I was awkward, didn't live in the dorms, spent my free time shooting, so I had virtually no friends. But that boy had lots of friends, and because of a few words from him people started to keep their distance. Some looked at me with contempt. Some even asked crude things. It made me dread going to school. I had to psych myself up before class just to pretend I didn't care.
I still haven't let go of that dark time. So I will always be grateful to Nathan for intervening.
Because of him, the tide turned instantly. A month of isolation ended. People said, with Nathan around, who would I set my sights on? Classmates started asking how we met.
Truth was, I found it awkward too. But I also craved them talking to me, so I smiled, embarrassed, and couldn't bring myself to deny it. Eventually Nathan chasing me became "us dating." As the rumors spiraled, I panicked and tried to deny them, but no one believed me.
"So they didn't believe me then because of you?" I asked.
Nathan considered it. "Maybe."
I finally pieced it together: the rumor had started with him—no wonder my denials never took. But because of that single rumor, the cold shoulder I'd endured came to an end. Others shrugged and moved on; I couldn't. I was too afraid to make friends again.
The kindest thing anyone did for me in high school had been that sophomore Christmas: a red apple in my desk and an unsigned card that read, "You are good. Have confidence." That stranger's kindness had carried me through.
I looked at Nathan and a feeling bubbled up. "Did you give me that apple in sophomore year?"
My palms were sweating when I asked.
Nathan sighed softly. He touched my eye, and I closed it reflexively. In that blind darkness his voice felt sharp enough to sting.
He said, "Claire—you're good. Have confidence."
On the walk home from Walnut, we didn't take the car. We walked along the street.
He told me a lot about the past.
I asked why he'd helped me back then. He didn't strike me as someone who meddled.
Nathan asked, "Do you remember a guy named Andrew?"
Andrew? That name had been out of my life for a long time.
Andrew was two years older. When he moved in across the street he wore a white shirt and looked so much better than any other boy I knew. I am shallow—I liked good looks—and from the first day I clung to him. He was always just out of reach, at best introducing me as his sister. There was a new basketball court behind our complex and he played there three times a week. Once I learned his schedule, I was always there too—on the bleachers with extra clothes or water. He had plenty of girls around him, but he let me keep his stuff and then would tell me to go home first after the games.
Now I think he told me to leave so I wouldn't get in the way of his dates. Back then I was foolishly proud that carrying his jacket felt special.
Andrew eventually went abroad and I cried for him. If not for the later bullying, I'd probably still be my naïve self.
I kicked a stone and asked Nathan, "You knew Andrew?"
"We were in the same class before. Played ball together," he said.
I covered my face. "So you saw me being a lovesick fool all that time?"
"Did you seem that way?" Nathan mused. "I didn't think you were just lovesick—I thought you were a little… silly."
When I glared, he softened. "In this case, Andrew was in the wrong. I told him so."
"Told him what?"
"That if you don't like someone, you should say so. Not string them along."
Right. Andrew's words and actions had contradicted each other. I asked, "So you saw how I felt… what did he say?"
Nathan looked at me but didn't answer. I already knew: one wanted to play, the other let himself be played.
We walked in silence for a few more paces. "So you helped because of that?"
"Look, I saw you at the court a lot. Even if I wasn't going there just for you… I couldn't stand by and watch."
I frowned. "It's weird. You're way better-looking than Andrew—how did I miss you back then?"
He laughed without answering.
I felt oddly disappointed. "If I could redo it, I'd notice you first."
Nathan flicked my forehead. "Not too late."
It stung. I pouted. "Honestly, if you hadn't said you did it because of Andrew, I'd've thought you had a crush on me back then."
"How do you know I didn't?"
"What?"
I froze.
"At first, I didn't think much of it either," Nathan said, eyes narrowing as if remembering. "But once the rumor started, I heard your name almost every day. After a while, it was impossible not to notice you."
"For a while you practiced the 800 meters. Every day after school you'd run laps on the track."
"Someone saw you and came specially to tell me. I thought it was no big deal, so I went to keep you company."
"By the time you finished running, it was dark. I figured since you were already out, I wouldn't mind walking you home."
"I remember the road by your house being really dark, but you were never afraid—you always had your hands in your pockets, humming softly."
He laughed out loud. "Looking back, it's incredible. You didn't know anything, and I followed you for over a month."
I was still confused. "I didn't know."
Nathan: "Because you never looked back."
Me: "You could have told me."
Nathan: "I thought about it. But right before graduation, Jeremy came back."
The day Jeremy returned, he asked Nathan to have dinner with him.
Halfway through the meal, Jeremy grinned and handed his phone to Nathan. "My neighbor girl hasn't forgotten me. She already knows I'm back."
Nathan stared at the message for a long time, then said only, "If you don't like her, don't waste her time. Being a playboy has limits."
Jeremy had just broken up with his girlfriend then. He said, "Honestly, she's cute. Can't hurt to try, right?"
By that point I could barely remember Jeremy's face.
If I recall correctly, I probably sent that message at my family's urging.
Later he did ask me if I would date him.
Having seen the power of public opinion, I wasn't as naive as before. Seeing how he had none of the spark he once had, I found him shallow.
I refused.
And knowing Jeremy, he would've bragged to Nathan about my supposed "persistent pursuit"—there's no way he'd admit he was the one rejected.
I told Nathan, "Jeremy doesn't matter."
"I thought he did," Nathan said. "Silence makes you miss chances. I won't make that mistake twice."
Under a streetlamp, he took my hand.
"So Claire, I want to ask you—will you be with me?"
That night when I got home, I lay on my bed in a daze for a long while.
Then I dug through a box and found a Christmas card I'd kept.
"You are good—have confidence."
Six words, written in Nathan's bold, steady handwriting.
I stared at it for a long time, trying to imitate it but never quite getting it right.
I touched the edge of the card; after years it had yellowed.
My phone buzzed.
Nathan: Want to eat something?
I couldn't help but smile.
I didn't believe he could actually eat right now, but I replied, "Okay."
I changed out of my day clothes into a comfy dress, pulled my hair into a bun, and reapplied a little lipstick.
Nathan opened the door and smiled at once.
He touched my face. "No glasses this time."
"What's wrong with glasses?"
I stepped inside and he naturally linked our hands.
To be honest, I still wasn't used to us being together.
But he seemed so at ease—he led me to the dining room, didn't sit opposite me, but right beside me.
"You wore glasses in high school."
"You remember that?"
"What don't I remember about you?"
I couldn't help laughing softly and said, "Okay."
On the table was a bottle of white wine and two wine glasses already filled. I looked at Nathan. "Still haven't had enough?"
I thought he'd used that as an excuse to get me to come over.
"Can't sleep."
"What's keeping you up?"
He turned the question on me. "Can you sleep?"
Heat rose to my cheeks. "How do you know again? I sleep fine."
"I don't."
He admitted it plainly.
I rolled my eyes. "Men aren't allowed to say they can't."
"…" Nathan cleared his throat and sipped his wine. "It's not just me. It's up to you."
My face warmed all the way up. "You're so annoying!"
He said, "You started it."
I put my hand to my forehead, grabbed my glass, and drank it in one go.
At the Walnut—which is what they called the café—I had juice, but Nathan couldn't dodge it. He drank a few glasses; the wine hit him and he even lit a cigarette.
I thought I'd hate the smell, but when he brought the cigarette to his lips, I felt myself tilt toward him.
…He was so handsome.
"You're blushing again."
Nathan said.
I touched my cheek. "Maybe I just flush easily when I drink."
"Are you sure you aren't thinking about things you shouldn't?"
I snorted and shoved him. "Cut it out."
He was more playful after a little wine, smiling and holding my hand as he toyed with it. "Your skin is so soft."
He was tracing the lines on my palm, so I asked, "Do you read palms too?"
"No." He hummed, then without realizing it our heads had leaned together.
He lifted his eyes to me.
Suddenly I fell into his gaze.
If Nathan had been the slow warmth of a frog in earlier days, now he was urgent.
When he kissed me, I tensed so my back stiffened.
He caressed me gently until I relaxed.
I lost track of how long we kissed, only remembering the fits and starts.
Some things, once they begin, are hard to stop.
My lips swelled; he pulled away first, and I reflexively reached for him.
He smiled and traced my lips with his fingertip. "No more kissing."
No need to look—I knew my face must be bright red.
I wrinkled my nose and said quietly, "Just got home and I found the card you gave me before."
"Hmm?"
"Your handwriting is beautiful. I wanted to learn it, but I never could."
Nathan hugged me.
"It's okay. I have plenty of time to teach you."
I sniffled and hugged him back.
"Okay."
