My boyfriend had just gotten back from a business trip. Passion flared, and he held me in a flurry of desperate kisses, our bodies tangled together. Our clothes were halfway to the floor when a knock came at the door, and his friend walked right in, his voice laced with amusement. “Looks like I came at a bad time.” The voice was familiar. I looked up, and my heart stopped. The man stood there in a tailored suit, his features sharp and handsome. And when he saw my face, the smirk vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated panic. 1. I was wearing nothing but my boyfriend Timothy’s white shirt, curled up in his arms as he tried to cover my bare legs from view. The man let out a low chuckle. “Protective, aren’t we?” The air in the room crackled with awkwardness. Timothy, still shirtless himself, scrambled to throw a jacket over me. He glanced down, saw the desperate plea in my eyes, and a grin spread across his face. He brushed his lips against my cheek. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “He’s a friend.” I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the floor would swallow me whole. I’d rather he be a burglar. A friend was so much worse. Thankfully, the man gave us an out. “I’ll wait for you guys downstairs. Hurry up.” His voice was so achingly familiar that I couldn’t stop myself from looking up again. All I saw was his back as he turned—a man in an expensive suit, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Even from behind, he was perfection. He paused, as if sensing my gaze, and started to turn his head. Before I could see his face, Timothy pulled me back against his chest. “What?” I mumbled into his skin. “One more kiss.” The footsteps faded down the stairs. I pressed my foot against his chest. “Your friend is waiting. Stop messing around.” “Nope.” Timothy’s expression was all playful mischief as he grabbed my ankle. “I haven’t seen you in ages. What’s wrong with a little messing around? I’m going to mess around.” It had only been three days. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a deep, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled away, I took a moment to steady my breathing before heading to the bedroom to change. He leaned lazily against the doorframe, watching me unabashedly as he took a call. “Yeah, Chris, we’re coming down. Hey, go easy on the jokes later. My girlfriend’s a bit shy. Don’t scare her.” I shot him a glare. He just grinned, walking over to zip up the back of my dress before taking my hand. “Let’s go, babe.” “Great,” I grumbled. “The legend of the shy girlfriend precedes me.” “What are you worried about? Chris’s a total clam. You can’t squeeze a word out of him.” He leaned in, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “I bet we could even do it right in front of him and he wouldn’t—” “Timothy!” I shoved him away, my face burning. He pulled me back, feigning an apology, but I could feel the laughter bubbling under the surface. “Baby…” Outside, a black sedan was parked in the driveway. A tall, slender man was leaning against the car, talking to the woman in the passenger seat. Timothy’s hand tightened possessively on my waist. “Who are you looking at?” The man heard us and turned around. His eyes landed on my face, and he froze. His gaze then dropped to where Timothy’s hand was linked with mine, and he froze again. My body went rigid. I followed Timothy’s lead and offered a stiff greeting. Chris didn’t respond. The woman in the car, Chloe, nudged him. “What’s wrong with you?” He shook his head, his eyes dazed. “I’m hallucinating.” Once we were in the car, Timothy rested his head on my shoulder, whispering in my ear. In the driver’s seat, Chris’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Chloe glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Seriously, Timothy, you’re making me sick. All this lovey-dovey stuff is too much for a single woman to bear.” Timothy chuckled. “Still haven’t managed to win Chris over?” “Not a chance,” Chloe said, flipping her hair back with a dramatic flair. She pointed to a small gardenia-scented air freshener hanging from the mirror. “I’ve given up. I’m not as sentimental as he is. Still treasuring a gift his ex-girlfriend gave him ages ago.” My breath caught in my throat. My eyes met Chris’s in the mirror. They were a swirling mess of confusion and pain. My own heart felt like a tangled knot. I was the one who gave him that air freshener. But they were both wrong about one thing. I wasn’t his ex-girlfriend. And the person he was so hopelessly devoted to was someone else entirely. I quickly looked away. Timothy pulled me closer, playing a show on his phone for us to watch, occasionally leaning down to press a soft kiss to my eyelids. Suddenly, with a violent screech of tires, the car swerved and slammed into the guardrail. Everything was thrown into chaos. Timothy held me tight, shielding me with his body. I heard him let out a muffled groan of pain. I was about to ask if he was okay when Chloe’s panicked scream cut through the air. “Chris! Are you alright?” I looked to the front. The airbags had deployed. Chris’s head was covered in blood. He blinked slowly, his dark, inky eyes looking so incredibly wounded. He looked like a lost child who couldn’t find his way home. “Zoe,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Don’t you want me anymore?” 2. I had approached Chris with a purpose. In the grand story of this world, he was the second male lead. The one destined to silently love the brilliant heroine, Seraphina, from afar. In the end, he was supposed to get into a car crash on his way to find her, losing both his legs. And me? I was just a background character. But I loved him. Back in high school, Chris was a punk with a head of bleached-blond hair and too much restless energy. My grades were good, so his grandfather hired me to tutor him. Chris couldn’t stand me, but he didn’t dare defy his grandfather. Sometimes, he’d get bold, cornering me with his motorcycle and demanding I lend him some cash. I’d just pull out my calculator. “Did you already spend the money I gave you for breakfast this morning?” He’d stare at me, dumbfounded. “Are you serious? It was two bucks! I need gas for my bike. Do you have any idea how much gas costs?” He’d rev the engine for emphasis. “Do you know how much this bike costs?” So full of himself. I went straight to his grandfather. The next day, he was riding a bicycle to school, tenderly nursing his bruised ego and a sore behind. Chris wasn’t a bad person. In fact, he was kind of a dumbass. Sweet and simple. When I tried to teach him, he’d doodle in his notebook. When I’d fall asleep from exhaustion, he’d sneakily stick little star stickers on my face. One time, I woke up, my vision blurry, and saw his mischievous grin. “You’re really pretty, Zoe.” I was still half-asleep. I thought his eyes were stars. I reached out, touched his face, and laughed softly. “Chris, I like you so much.” He just blinked, muttering, “You always tease me like this.” “But do you like me?” He mumbled a quiet, “Yeah.” Liar. You said you liked me. But then Seraphina transferred to our school, and his attention was gone, captured by her in an instant. All I got from him was a dismissive, “Zoe, you’re just a friend to me.” His friendship wasn’t worth much. We hadn’t spoken in two weeks. For Seraphina, he had dyed his hair back to its natural brown and started dressing in crisp white shirts, looking deceptively clean-cut. Sometimes I’d look up from my textbooks and see him trailing behind her and the story’s male lead, Tristan. The two geniuses would deliberately ignore him, and he’d just stand there, head bowed, looking small and out of place. It still made my heart ache for him. So, when he showed up at my desk with his failed test and a bubble tea, I sighed. “You didn’t understand it, did you?” He nodded like a bobblehead. The idiot was finally motivated, but it was for someone else. I broke down the concepts for him, piece by piece, but I was still annoyed. I drew a little turtle on his test paper. Slow-poke Chris, you’re hopeless. He told me, his eyes shining, that Seraphina had promised to go on a date with him if he could score in the top ten of our grade. This was a kid who struggled to make the top ten in our class. I rolled my eyes. But I still organized all the study materials for him. I was an idiot, too. He worked incredibly hard, studying day and night. When his blood sugar dropped, he’d be in the nurse’s office with an IV drip in one arm, still scribbling notes with the other. When the results came out, all his effort hadn’t been enough. He sat alone on a bench outside the amusement park where he had planned to take her. He looked so lonely, so pitiful. The date he had planned so meticulously had only one guest: me. The one person who shouldn’t have been there. I sat with him until late into the night. It started to pour, and we just sat there like two fools, neither of us moving. Suddenly, he asked, his eyes filled with a wariness that broke my heart, “Zoe, do you still like me?” I wiped the rain from my face. “Get over yourself. See that guy?” I pointed randomly at a burly, bearded man in a suit taking shelter from the rain. “That’s my type.” I quickly lowered my hand, embarrassed. But he believed me instantly, a wave of relief washing over his face. “Oh. Well, thanks, Zoe. You’re my best friend.” I just nodded. Just then, his phone rang. It was Seraphina. His face lit up, and his voice became soft and gentle as he answered. He rushed off into the rain without a second glance at me. He never had time for me anymore. The rain blurred my vision. I tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear. I was used to it. Ever since he fell for Seraphina, all he ever left me was his retreating back. The sky was dark. The streets were empty. I was chilled to the bone, walking for what felt like hours in the downpour. My phone rang. It was him, his voice bright and happy. “Zoe, it’s great news! Sera agreed to a make-up date! But she has one condition. She wants to borrow your set of review notes. Can I give them to her tomorrow?” It was loud on his end. I could hear the warm, happy sounds of a party in the background. They were celebrating Seraphina’s birthday. Rain had gotten into my phone, distorting the sound. It took me a moment to understand what he was asking. “Please, Zoe,” he begged. “You know how much this means to me. It’s the first time she’s ever agreed to anything.” I sniffled, my resolve crumbling as I typed out two pathetic words. “Okay.” “Thank you! I knew you were my best friend!” He laughed, finally happy, and hung up to go celebrate with the girl he loved. The warmth on his end of the line was cut off, leaving me alone in the cold, biting wind. 3. Chris had labeled me a friend, but I was never very good at playing the part. Anyone could see I was in love with him. Anyone except him. He chased after Seraphina with a single-minded devotion that made him insecure, sensitive, and increasingly silent. My heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. I knew he would never win her love, just as I knew I would never have him look back at me. But I still held onto a sliver of hope, thinking I could somehow break the script. What if? What if the plot was forcing him? What if this wasn’t what he truly wanted? What if… what if he could actually be moved by me, even fall in love with me? Seraphina didn’t even like him. She called him an idiot behind his back. His only purpose in the story was to make the male lead, Tristan, jealous. A love story between two geniuses, and they needed my sweet, dumb Chris as a pawn. One day, he came to me, his eyes red-rimmed, and whispered, “Am I really that worthless? Am I not worth loving?” I gritted my teeth, my own anger flaring. “You’re amazing,” I told him firmly. “No one is better than you.” The reason I loved him was simple. When I transferred to his middle school, he was the only one who was nice to me. When I was accused of cheating, he stood up for me. When I was tripped during a track meet, he dropped the relay baton without a second thought and carried me to the nurse’s office. He was from a wealthy family but never acted like it. He was friends with everyone, a little ball of sunshine. I thought he was perfect. So perfect that when I found out he was just the second male lead, I was furious. Why did someone so good have to be a mere supporting character? After graduation, things took a turn. Seraphina, in a fit of pique after a fight with Tristan, accepted Chris’s confession of love. Chris was ecstatic, thinking he had finally won her over. A few days later, he walked in on the two of them, having made up, locked in a passionate kiss. His entire effort was a joke. They were playing him like a fool. Seraphina went back to ignoring him. Chris didn’t fight, didn’t argue. He didn’t even dare to ask why. He just retreated back into his shell. I brought over a six-pack of beer. He had a few days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He popped open a can, took a small sip, and grimaced at the taste. Then he tilted his head back and chugged the whole thing. “Feel any better?” He shook his head. I couldn’t stand it. I found Seraphina and Tristan and gave them a piece of my mind. It was the first time in my life I had ever yelled at anyone. A crowd gathered. Seraphina looked mortified. I was shaking with rage. And then he appeared, pushing through the crowd, and pulled me away. Me, the one fighting his battles for him. His eyes held no gratitude, only annoyance, shame, and a flicker of disgust. My anger died instantly. “Chris, don’t be mad.” His face was a cold mask. “You’re overstepping.” I thought he hated me. But the next day, when I went to see him, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. His eyes were closed. The faint, fruity taste of wine on his lips made my head spin. His voice was low and rough. “Zoe, don’t push me away.” In that moment, in my foolishness, I thought I had finally moved him. The same ridiculous idea he’d had about Seraphina. I held onto a shred of clarity, my hand trembling as I clutched his shirt. “Chris, are you starting to like me?” If he said yes, I would believe him. But he didn’t say anything. The hands holding me just trembled slightly.
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