My childhood best friend, Ethan, broke up with his girlfriend again and came straight to my place. Afterward, he casually grabbed his clothes and pulled them on, his face suddenly darkening. “Chloe, whose shirt is this?” I tiredly opened my eyes and glanced over. “My boyfriend’s.” “Oh, I forgot to mention. Don't come over anymore. My boyfriend gets jealous.” 1 Ethan froze for a second, then stared at me with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Playing this game again?” My sleepiness vanished as I realized Ethan had completely misunderstood. He thought I was making up a boyfriend just to test if he would get jealous over me. I wanted to argue, but then I remembered that I had actually pulled that stupid stunt in the past. Ethan pulled off the shirt, tossed it into the trash can, picked his own shirt off the floor, and put it on. Before leaving, he let out a mocking scoff. “Chloe, next time, why don’t you bring this ‘boyfriend’ out so I can meet him?” He deliberately emphasized the word boyfriend. Not even twenty-four hours later, Ethan and his girlfriend were back together. In the VIP booth of the club, Ethan and his girlfriend were practically glued to each other. I had been dragged here at the last minute by some mutual friends. The moment I walked through the door, I met Ethan’s pitch-black eyes. A second later, his gaze shifted, looking past me toward the empty space behind my back. The corners of his lips curled up in an amused, playful smirk. It was as if he was asking: Where’s the boyfriend? I pretended I didn't see his mocking stare. The drinking games started quickly. In the first round, Ethan lost. But the "punishment" was basically a reward. Ethan and his girlfriend had to make out passionately in front of everyone for a full ten minutes. It was enough to make everyone in the room thirsty and restless. “Ethan, man, save it for the bedroom! Stop rubbing it in our faces.” “Seriously, give the single people a break…” The two of them were so lost in each other they couldn't even hear the crowd. When they finally pulled apart, the woman's eyes were hazy, her lips slightly swollen and glistening. My gaze drifted upward, meeting the man’s perfectly clear, sober dark eyes. It was as if he wasn't the one who had just been passionately making out. I instantly felt a flush of embarrassment, like a peeping tom caught in the act, and quickly looked away. As the game neared its end, the empty beer bottle spun and landed pointing directly at me. The punishment: Choose any guy in the room to kiss. I hesitated, unable to make a choice while everyone whistled and urged me on. Ethan’s confident voice cut through the noise. “Chloe, if you want to pick me, just say it. What’s there to be embarrassed about…” But the exact moment the words left his mouth, I turned and chose another guy sitting next to me. Instantly, the color drained from Ethan’s face. He let out a cold, sharp “Hah,” as if condemning my lack of appreciation for his offer. The atmosphere froze for a split second before the cheering resumed. Just as my lips touched the other guy’s, a loud crash of shattering glass echoed through the room, followed by a woman’s panicked voice. “Ethan, your hand is bleeding…” The guy and I quickly pulled apart. While everyone’s attention was focused on Ethan, I discreetly pulled the thin piece of clear plastic wrap from my lips. When I looked over, Ethan was staring at me with a freezing, deadly glare. He was probably blaming me for not picking him, making him lose face in front of the group. I quietly looked away. When the party broke up and we were leaving. I was standing on the curb waiting for an Uber when Ethan’s car pulled up right in front of me. His girlfriend, Mia, leaned out the window. “Chloe, we’re heading the same way. Hop in, we’ll give you a ride…” Before Mia could even finish her sentence, she was coldly cut off by the expressionless man behind the wheel. “It’s out of our way.” The sports car peeled off with a loud screech, kicking up a cloud of dust in my face. 2 That night. I had just finished showering and was getting ready for bed when I heard the front door unlock. Just as I was about to go check, my bedroom door was pushed open. The next second, I was pinned against the door, a familiar scent overwhelming my senses. My lips were kissed roughly, almost bitten, as if he was venting some deep rage. I shoved and struggled, finally biting down hard on the person's lip. The man pulled back with a hiss of pain, panting heavily. “Chloe, you’re just trying to piss me off, aren't you?! Kissing another guy right in front of my face.” “Ethan, you aren't my dad. What gives you the right to control me?” Ethan's voice went ice-cold. “Chloe, say that one more time.” “I’ll say it as many times as I want. You’re just my—” Before I could finish the sentence, my lips were brutally sealed again. Later, I don't know how, but it turned into: “Be a good girl. Call me Daddy.” I bit my lip, absolutely refusing to satisfy his twisted bedroom power trip. “No—” Suddenly, the man’s lips curled into a smirk. The next second, he drove himself downward heavily. Caught completely off guard, I couldn't stop a sharp scream from escaping my lips. If I didn't say it, he was determined to make me surrender, relentlessly tormenting me. “Be a good girl. Say it.” …… By the end, my eyes were squeezed shut and I couldn't even speak. In my dizzy, exhausted haze, I felt Ethan get out of bed, pour a glass of water, and help me drink it. Afterward, he pinched my cheek and threatened me: “Are you ever going to kiss another guy again?” I had absolutely no idea what he was saying and fell into a deep, heavy sleep. Early the next morning, I was woken up by frantic, aggressive pounding on my front door. I threw on a thin cardigan and walked out. The moment I unlocked the door, the person outside shoved her way in, looking furious. “Was Ethan here last night?” The woman's eyes locked onto my neck, her expression changing drastically. She lunged forward and forcefully yanked my cardigan open. Before I could even react, a burning, stinging pain exploded across my cheek. “Chloe, are you a fucking whore?! You know perfectly well that Ethan is my boyfriend! Why do you keep throwing yourself at him?!” My exposed skin was covered in a dense map of hickeys left by the man last night. Mia looked at me like she wanted to eat me alive. She raised her hand to deliver another slap. But her wrist was caught by the man who had, at some point, walked out of my bedroom. “Mia, are you out of your fucking mind?” “You were the one who dumped me last night. What’s the point of running over here to throw a tantrum now?” “Ethan, you always told me you just saw her as a little sister! What is this then?! Is sleeping with her incest?!” “You two are—you’re fucking disgusting!” Mia shoved Ethan away and ran out, sobbing hysterically. Ethan didn't make a single move to chase after her. Instead, he looked down at my red, swollen cheek. “Does it hurt a lot? Don't take what she said to heart…” I gently pushed his hand away. “Ethan, leave. Don’t come back here anymore.” The man’s hand froze in mid-air, his temper flaring up again. “Chloe, that is enough. How much longer are you going to be mad? I literally broke up with her for you. Isn’t that enough?” “So what exactly is our relationship now?” My question made him pause. Then, he softened his tone. “Can't we just be like we were before? Whether I have a girlfriend or not, it won’t change our relationship.” “Ethan, we are done.” I turned my head away. Ethan stared at me for a moment, then left without another word. Except for the fact that he slammed my front door so hard the walls shook. 3 The next day at noon. I texted Ethan, telling him to sign for a package. I had boxed up every single thing he had ever left at my place and shipped it to him. A few minutes later, my phone rang. “Chloe, what the hell is the meaning of this?” His voice was gritted through his teeth, heavy with nasal congestion, like he had caught a bad cold. “I’m moving.” “Chloe, you’ve really pissed me off this time.” “If I ever speak to you again, I’m a fucking dog!” He abruptly hung up. Right before the line went dead, I heard the sound of something shattering violently against the floor. The phone rang again. This time, it was my mom. “Sweetie, Arthur is already on his way to pick you up. Are you ready?” Arthur Hayes is the son of my mom's best friend, and the man I’m currently dating. My mom, terrified that I was wasting my youth waiting around for Ethan, constantly texted me photos of Arthur—pictures that looked suspiciously like they were taken secretly. She couldn't go three sentences without bringing up Arthur, talking about how handsome and successful he was. I couldn't deny that the guy in the photos was an absolute ten, honestly even better-looking than Ethan. But who knew how heavily photoshopped they were? Seeing my skepticism, my mom immediately initiated a FaceTime call. Before I could hit decline, the other side answered, and a polite, deep voice offered a greeting. I was completely captivated by that low, magnetic voice. I couldn't help but sneak a peek at the man on the screen. I was completely stunned. He was even better looking in real life than in the photos. He had a strong brow bone, eyes so dark you couldn't see the bottom, with a slight, elegant tilt at the corners, and a perfectly straight nose. The faint smile on his thin lips softened his otherwise aloof and unapproachable aura. In that split second, I could hear my own heart pounding loudly in my chest. Is it possible that my only real type is just "ridiculously handsome"? It wasn't until my mom nudged me with her elbow that I snapped back to reality. “Sweetie, what are you doing? I’ve called your name three times. Say hi to Arthur!” “Did you forget? You totally kissed him when you were little! You even said you were going to marry Arthur when you grew up and move into his house.” Through a series of fortunate events, we had our first official date. Then a second... until I honestly lost count of how many times we'd seen each other. It wasn't until Arthur recently went on an overseas business trip... And Ethan showed up at my door after fighting with his girlfriend again, that I realized how long it had been since I'd even thought about Ethan. But at the time, my hormones were a mess, and I’d been single for a while. Faced with a man I used to have feelings for—and someone I had great physical chemistry with—showing up at my door, I made the mistake every woman makes at least once. Now, Arthur was back in the States. And I had drawn a permanent, hard line with Ethan. Everything was perfect. But I never in a million years expected to run into Ethan at the restaurant where we were having dinner. The man who swore he was a dog if he ever spoke to me again shamelessly pulled up a chair and sat right next to me, acting like he owned the place. He deliberately leaned in close and whispered: “Aren't you going to introduce me to... this older gentleman?” “My boyfriend, Arthur Hayes.” I introduced Ethan to Arthur: “Just an acquaintance.” I shifted away to create some distance, but Ethan leaned in again, forcing himself into the narrative. “She means we grew up together. Childhood sweethearts.” I immediately shot back: “But we aren't close.” Arthur offered a faint smile, his gaze landing softly on my face. “What a coincidence. I actually held Chloe when she was a newborn.” Instantly, Arthur flipped the script. “I assume Mr. Wright was probably just a toddler in diapers back then, too.” After a few rounds of verbal sparring, Ethan’s face cycled through shades of green and white. The other man calmly sipped his tea, acting nonchalant as he asked: “Chloe, is this green tea?” I nodded. Arthur smiled, seemingly in a great mood, and complimented it: “This really is... excellent tea.” (Note: "Green tea" is slang for someone who acts innocent but is actually manipulative and trying to steal someone's partner). Ethan finally couldn't take the humiliation anymore. He slammed his cup down and stormed off. Halfway through the meal, I went to the restroom. I had been slightly worried that Ethan might blurt out something completely inappropriate and ruin the dinner. But it seemed that worry was unfounded. However, the second I stepped out of the restroom, someone violently grabbed my wrist and yanked me into an alcove. Before I could even process what was happening, Ethan started hurling mocking insults at me. “Heh. Boyfriend?” “Chloe? Only a creepy old man would use a pet name like that so casually.” “Held you when you were a baby? Please.” “He might look like he has his shit together, but he only knows how to prey on naive, brainless girls like you.” “Your mom must be going blind in her old age to set you up with an old guy like that.” I frowned. “He’s only six years older than me. How does that make him an old man?” “A three-year age gap is a generational divide. What could you two possibly have in common?” “That doesn't matter. My mom says older men know how to treat a woman right.” “Older men can’t get it up.” Every time I said a sentence, he let out a cold, sarcastic snort, acting like a bitter heckler. “Chloe, do you honestly think I’m going to believe you just found some random guy to play your boyfriend? Blocking my number? Throwing out all my stuff? Do you know what that proves? The harder you try to push me away, the more it proves that you—can't let me go!” After finishing his delusional rant, the man leaned close to my ear as he was leaving and whispered: “But I am curious. What do you think would happen if he found out about what we did?” “And we’re not close? Chloe, tell me, which part of your body am I not intimately familiar with?” “Are we not close in bed?” My face flushed bright red. I glared fiercely at this utterly shameless bastard. Seeing my reaction, Ethan finally looked satisfied and smiled. He walked away with a noticeable bounce in his step, even offering a friendly nod to a stranger walking past. His back looked like a proud, arrogant peacock. 4 A few days later, Ethan somehow managed to get Arthur’s phone number. He invited him out for drinks behind my back. By the time I rushed to the bar, Arthur was already surrounded by a group of guys, acting incredibly friendly, having drank God knows how much. Soon after, they started playing a drinking game. The loser had to answer a truth question. After a few rounds, Ethan got annoyed that there were too many people. He told everyone else to get lost and insisted on playing one-on-one with Arthur. In the first round, Ethan won. “How many women have you slept with?” I glared at Ethan. He pretended not to see me. Assuming Arthur might be hesitant to answer, he offered a fake-helpful suggestion: “If Mr. Hayes isn't comfortable answering, we can skip it. Or maybe I can ask a different—” Arthur answered immediately: “Chloe is my first girlfriend.” I don't know if it was my imagination, but when this usually mature, composed man said those words, a brief flash of shyness crossed his face, and his ears actually turned a bit red. Ethan clearly didn't believe him. “There's no point in lying, man.” I was also a little skeptical. Arthur explained that he had spent his twenties entirely focused on his education. During grad school, he and some friends launched a tech startup. He literally never had the time to consider a personal life, which was why he had been single until now. Ethan let out a harsh “Heh,” and started the next round. “Does Mr. Hayes really like Chloe?” “Yes.” “And does Chloe like you?” “She is my girlfriend. If she stops liking me in the future, it will absolutely be because I failed to be a good enough partner to her.” …… After a few more rounds, Ethan got frustrated again and changed the rules to just straight drinking. The group of guys started relentlessly pouring shots. Or to be more accurate, they all teamed up to aggressively try and drink Arthur under the table. Arthur didn't refuse a single glass, tossing them back smoothly. Ethan picked up another glass and raised it toward Arthur. I grabbed Arthur’s glass and hissed at Ethan in a low voice: “Are you crazy? He’s already had way too much.” “I’ll drink this one for him, and then we’re leaving.” Ethan’s voice was dripping with cold, bitter sarcasm: “It hasn't even been a week, and you’re already desperately protecting him?” “Did you forget your own name?” Arthur gently took the glass from my hand. “Chloe, it’s fine. I’ll drink it.” “You guys grew up together. I don't want to ruin your friendship over me.” I watched him drain the glass with deep concern. I didn't notice the way Ethan was staring at Arthur, grinding his back teeth so hard they could shatter. It was a look that screamed murder. After finishing the drink, Arthur suddenly grabbed his stomach, looking like he was in immense pain. The veins on the back of his hand bulged. I quickly asked him: “Arthur, what’s wrong?” “I’m fine.” “We’re done drinking. We’re going home.” Terrified that something serious was wrong with Arthur, I helped him stand up to leave. As we reached the door, Ethan marched over, practically radiating dark, violent energy. I instinctively stepped in front of Arthur to shield him. “Ethan, what the hell do you want now?” Ethan stopped in his tracks. A flash of genuine hurt crossed his eyes before he swept a freezing glare over me. Finally, he leaned in and whispered something into Arthur’s ear that I couldn't hear. Then, he stood there and watched us leave. The voices behind us slowly faded away. “Ethan, is Chloe really dating that older guy?” “No way. Everyone knows Chloe has been in love with Ethan since they were kids.” “This is definitely just a girl playing games. She’s not doing this for the first time. She just wants to make Ethan jealous.” “But what if she actually falls for that guy?” “Wanna bet on it?” “I’ll put my money on Ethan, obviously.” “But that guy doesn't look like a downgrade from Ethan. What if he actually wins…”
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