I thought retreating to the kitchen would save me from the madness, but soon Jamie squeezed his way in, followed closely by Larry. My mom and I just stared in bewilderment as the sliding kitchen door was abruptly shut behind them.

Pressing my temples in frustration, I turned to Alexander, who was sitting innocently on the couch.

"What happened?"

"All I said was that Phoebe finds men who can cook more attractive—"

"And then?"

"And then Dr. Brown mentioned that he cooked a full Christmas dinner just yesterday. Larry responded by saying he once won first place in a cooking competition with his team. Dr. Brown countered that he was invited to be a judge at a cooking contest. And then Larry—"

I exhaled sharply, cutting him off.

"And then?"

"And then I said, 'Really? I don't believe you—'"

My fingers dug into my temples as a thought flashed through my mind. "Stop it, please, just stop fighting!"

My mom's sharp eyes caught sight of the two phones clutched in Alexander's hands, and she immediately scolded him.

"They're guests, and you're pestering them for their phones to play games? Alex, must you force me to discipline you?"

Alexander quickly dropped the phones.

"I didn't! They just gave them to me! I swear—ow, ow, ow!"

After dealing with Alexander, my mom grew increasingly anxious. She couldn't bear the thought of letting our guests cook on their first visit to our home. Several times she tried to reclaim her position as head chef, but each time, the two men gently but firmly pushed her out of the kitchen.

My mom later reported that they both seemed incredibly professional and confident.

Yet, while we anxiously awaited the meal with a mix of dread and anticipation, the kitchen exploded.

Well, more accurately, the pot did, leaving the kitchen in shambles.

Mom managed her emotions well, reassuring them that the pot had been faulty for a long time and was overdue for replacement.

[Pot: Sure, sure, it's all my fault.]

In the end, we had to eat dinner at a restaurant downstairs. During the meal, the family's allegiances became clear with my dad's arrival.

He was thoroughly impressed with Jamie. In his eyes, doctors, lawyers, and teachers were the ideal professions for a son-in-law.

But Larry's current job with the city's criminal investigation team seemed too busy and dangerous to him.

On the other hand, my mom clearly favored Larry. My brother had also somehow become Larry's loyal sidekick without me even knowing.

Stuck in the middle, all I could do was keep my head down and focus on eating.

The dinner was awkward, to say the least. Fortunately, nothing else went wrong, and we made it home without incident. Jamie had to leave early for an appointment, so I walked him downstairs.

"Miss Steele, how's your sleep been? Are you almost out of your medication for this treatment?" he asked quietly.

"Not bad," I replied, though I felt a headache brewing at the thought of the fireworks that had been going off late into the night lately.

But honestly, even without them, I struggled to sleep on my own.

Holding the elevator door, I whispered, "But I'm almost out of meds.

"I was thinking of contacting you, but I didn't expect—"

I glanced at Jamie, suddenly feeling awkward about our current situation.

"Didn't expect me to show up on your doorstep, did you?" he said with a soft laugh.

His expression was as composed as ever.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand slipped in to stop them.

Larry stepped in, holding my coat in one hand. Without a word, he tossed it onto my head.

"What are you doing—"

"Your mother said it's cold outside and you should wear your coat," he said lazily, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood on the other side of me.

After seeing Jamie off, Larry snapped his fingers in front of my face, then mounted his motorcycle.

"I've got something to take care of at work, so I'm heading out too," he said, slipping on his helmet and waving goodbye.

"Phoebe, come here. I've got something to tell you."

Reluctantly, I shuffled over. He tilted his head, pinching my cheek between his fingers.

"This time, it's got to be me. Got it?"

He leaned in close, his eyes narrowing, his blue pupils inscrutable.

With his naturally pale skin, the cold wind had turned his nose a slight shade of red, giving his already delicate features an unexpectedly youthful look.

I immediately slapped his hand away and pushed his face back.

"Don't—don't get too close to me."

He froze for a moment, then burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

"Alright, I'll head back now and wait for the good news."

"Larry Harrison! The same Larry Harrison from Class Eleven when we were in high school?"

I knew this was exactly how Lesley would react when I mentioned this to her.

Unlike me, Lesley had firsthand experience with Larry's reputation. While I'd only heard stories about him, she had witnessed him in action, brutally breaking eight of a classmate's ribs with a single kick.

Lesley had been passing by when it happened. The boy who got his ribs broken was someone she knew from middle school, though he wasn't exactly a good person either. In their circle of "troubled kids," right and wrong didn't mean much; they did whatever they pleased based on their whims.

Lesley couldn't fathom how my family ended up connected to someone like Larry, and she was vehemently opposed to it.

"Let's forget about his past. Just look at his face—every strand of his hair has at least eight hundred girlfriends," she warned.

Her words triggered memories of high school rumors about Larry and the queen of another class, Veronica Shaw. They were said to be childhood sweethearts, a perfect match, who had been inseparable since kindergarten.

"They only broke up when Veronica left for college abroad. What does that make her? His first love!"

Lesley's concern was palpable, but I couldn't help but find the whole thing a bit amusing. It felt like we were blowing things out of proportion.

Come on, we'd just met each other for the first time. It wasn't like I was agreeing to marry him or anything. Besides, it was clear to me that Larry and I were from entirely different worlds.

We weren't in the same world back in high school, and we certainly won't be.

7

On the eve of Valentine's Day, I received an invitation from Jamie for dinner.

During our conversation, I learned that Jamie was an only child and that his mother had been in poor health, having undergone surgery this year.

After much consideration, Jamie decided to return to the city to be closer to his family. Naturally, the blind dates were arranged by his parents.

Jamie suggested that we pretend to agree to see each other, as a kind of mutual cooperation.

Remembering the nightmares that Mrs. Hansom's matchmaking had caused me over the past two years, I found myself wavering.

Sensing my hesitation, Jamie asked if I had found someone I was interested in.

For a brief moment, Larry's face flashed in my mind.

Jamie smiled faintly and nodded toward something behind me.

I turned and found myself locking eyes with Larry, who was sitting among a rowdy group of boys, some familiar, some not.

A few of them I recognized as those "troubled kids" from high school—the ones who used to sit in the back row, the ones I never dared approach.

Larry was slouched on the couch, wearing a baseball cap, one arm draped lazily over the back of the sofa, and the other holding a beer bottle.

His long legs were crossed, and his sharp jawline was visible as he tilted his head back slightly.

He wasn't wearing glasses today, and his clear eyes were fixed on me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.

When our eyes met, Larry blinked slowly and then looked away.

"Alright, Dr. Brown, let's do it your way."

I agreed to Jamie's request, though my mind was still reeling from the intensity of the gaze I had just encountered. I struggled through the rest of the meal, and even after we left the restaurant, I didn't dare look back.

Before leaving, Jamie reached out to pat my head. I instinctively dodged the gesture, which made him pause for a moment before he placed his hand on my head anyway.

"See you tomorrow."

When I got home, I told my parents about Jamie's proposal, emphasizing that we were only going to see how things went. I assured them that if it didn't work out, I would end it, but in the meantime, I hoped they wouldn't set me up with anyone else.

My dad couldn't hide his delight, though my mom looked a bit disappointed. Still, she didn't say much and I knew she would gently relay my wishes to the matchmaker.

Later that night, while struggling with a paper, I received a call from an unknown number.

"Phoebe, you're something else," a low, slurred voice greeted me.

It was Larry. I could tell immediately that he was drunk.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Huh?"

His words didn't make any sense to me, and I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Then stop playing games with me."

Okay, I admitted I was initially attracted to him, but we both agreed to the blind date. If it didn't work out, we'd just move on to the next one. It was not like we were ever serious enough to require any kind of explanation for turning each other down.

"Uh, sorry?"

I cautiously apologized, but he let out a self-mocking laugh on the other end of the line.

He didn't say anything else, and I was too afraid to hang up, suddenly feeling a bit scared.

Yes, I was scared of him. From the moment I realized he was Larry Harrison, all those terrifying memories from high school came flooding back—memories that had kept me awake for countless nights.

Larry's voice softened, almost as if he were talking to a child.

"Phoebe, turn around and look at me, okay?"

I was certain he was drunk, and not just a little drunk—completely wasted, to the point of talking nonsense.

He spoke again, drawing out the last word.

"I'm begging you—"

I quickly hung up, a series of violent crime cases I'd read about online flashing through my mind—crimes of passion committed by men driven mad by unrequited love.

Wait! That was ridiculous. There was no way he was obsessed after meeting me just three times. I was clearly overthinking things, which explained my insomnia.

It took three pills to finally force myself to sleep that night. The next day, I showed up for my date with Jamie, sporting dark circles that no amount of concealer could hide.