Secret Crush: From the First Meeting

It was the morning of the second day of Christmas when I was jolted awake by the sound of people chatting and cracking nuts.

Without opening my eyes, I instinctively stretched my legs and let out a yawn from the warmth of my bed.

"Oh, Phoebe is awake!"

That unfamiliar yet familiarly loud voice of an elder immediately dragged me back to reality.

The reality was that my mom had once again invited a bunch of relatives into my room before I was even fully awake.

But something felt off—our usual guest, Mrs. Hansom, wasn't among them.

Ever since I graduated from college, I'd seen her at our house every year after Christmas.

I sometimes suspected my parents had some sort of subscription with her, determined to find me the perfect match.

Could she be managing things remotely this time?

I opened one eye and quickly scanned the room before burying my head back under the covers.

Wait a minute!

I thought—just maybe—I saw a handsome guy sitting at the desk next to my bed.

No way! Could Mrs. Hansom's taste have improved this much?

I stealthily created a small peephole in my blanket to sneak a look.

No, it couldn't be. Judging by Mrs. Hansom's track record with blind dates, there was no way someone this good-looking would show up.

The guy was sitting sideways, lost in thought. His profile was sharp and clean, with fair skin.

A pair of black half-rimmed glasses rested on his high nose bridge, and a few strands of hair fell across his forehead. Through the glasses, I could see his eyelashes slightly trembling.

It seemed like he had thought of something amusing because his tightly-pressed lips curved into a slight smile, softening his otherwise cool demeanor.

His Adam's apple moved slightly, and my heart embarrassingly fluttered.

Wow!

As if sensing my gaze, the handsome guy tilted his head toward my direction, his clear eyes filled with a touch of curiosity.

The familiar, almost sculpted features sent a shock through me.

Wasn't this the same guy, my crush, I'd run into at the grocery store a few days ago?

Even though I quickly retracted his photo from our family group chat, my mischievous younger brother had already saved it and shown it to my parents.

Mrs. Hansom, you heartless woman! To meet your quota, you even included a high school kid?

Honestly, what were kids eating these days? How did they grow so tall, and how was it possible for someone to look even better without a mask? Just one look at those lips, and I know they'd be perfect for kissing.

But alas, I couldn't love you—it was against the law.

Okay, I was wrong.

This wasn't a blind date. It was just a family visit; a distant relative visited my home.

"Phoebe, I'm about to start making soup, but I forgot to buy some pork ribs. Go out and buy two pounds, will you?"

My mom's voice called out from the kitchen as I was preparing some tangerines for the guests.

Out of habit, I shouted back toward the living room.

"Alex—"

"Don't even try it, Mom was calling you!"

I grumbled and dragged my feet, but the next moment, Mom appeared in front of me, holding a spatula like a weapon.

"Get going! Larry brought his bike, so let him take you. You'll be back in a few minutes."

Larry, who was peeling a tangerine on the couch, smiled obediently when he heard his name.

"Sure, Mrs. Steele."

"I'm coming too, if Larry's going!"

Alex, who was absorbed in a game on my phone, suddenly chimed in, raising his hand eagerly. My forehead throbbed—how did middle schoolers bond so easily?

Of course, Mom coolly rejected Alexander's offer.

"Let's go, Phoebe," Larry said, flashing me a sweet smile.

But as soon as we stepped out the door, his demeanor changed into one of indifference.

Hmm, I got it—teenage rebellion, two different personalities.

The elevator door opened, and Larry held out his arm to stop it, gesturing for me to enter first with a nod.

Our reflections in the mirror showed us standing in opposite corners of the elevator, and the atmosphere was a bit awkward.

Larry's tall frame was even more pronounced, despite the oversized black puffer jacket he wore, which only made him look leaner.

His collar was open, revealing just a white t-shirt underneath, and his long, pale neck with collarbones.

He had put on a mask again, adding a bit of aloofness to his already cold features, but he still exuded a youthful charm.

If I had met him back in high school, I would've had a crush on him for sure.

"So, Larry, how's your homework going? What's your class ranking this year?" I asked, trying to break the ice after much consideration.

Larry frowned slightly and gave me a brief glance.

"Phoebe, you're at Wessex University, right? The second year of your master's, if I recall."

He drew out the last word with a lazy tone.

"So, what are your plans—government exams or an internship? How's your thesis coming along? What about after graduation? Still no boyfriend, huh—"

"Cut it out!"

I kept smiling on the outside, but in my mind, I was already imagining wringing Larry's neck.

Once outside the apartment complex, I followed Larry's gaze and instinctively sat on the back seat of an electro-mobile.

"Wrong one."

Just as I sat down, Larry grabbed the back of my collar and lifted me off.

He then led me to a sleek, impressive motorcycle parked nearby.

I pointed at the massive beast, then back at Larry.

"Seriously, kid? Are you guys riding these things now? Do you even know the consequences of riding without a license?"

Larry ignored me and handed me a pink helmet.

Holding the heavy helmet, I felt a headache coming on—why did I have this sudden premonition that I'd die young at twenty-four?

"Don't know how to put it on?"

Larry raised an eyebrow and, after a brief glance at me, took the helmet from my hands.

He leaned down, gently tucking my hair behind my ear before carefully placing the helmet on my head and fastening the buckle.

Larry's eyes were clear, like they held tiny specks of light.

The cool scent of youth surrounded me, and I felt my face inexplicably grow warm.

"Why are you blushing?"

A teasing voice came from above as I felt a flick on my forehead.