Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I wasn’t planning to go. But the next morning, the popular girl from my class gave me a sarcastic hard time over the confession wall incident. So I had to go—not just go, but post about it on Moments.

Ethan Davis’ actions left me confused. I’d thought guys as good-looking as him were like untouchable "ice gods"—to be admired from afar, not approached. But he was surprisingly thoughtful: pulling out my chair for me, serving me soup. Even I, as oblivious as I could be, noticed something was off.

Either he wanted to hit on me, or he needed a favor. I was convinced it was the former, but I played it cool and asked:

"Classmate Pei, did you run into some trouble?"

Ethan Davis gave me a shy smile, then explained: "Senior, hello. Our department and the Computer Science Department are planning to develop a mini-program to raise public awareness about oral hygiene. Our professor mentioned you’ve had several successful communication cases, so we wanted to ask for your help with promotion. I’m sorry for troubling you—I got your contact info from the professor."

I awkwardly picked up my water cup. So it had all been my wishful thinking. I set my roommate’s "player" comment aside—since he’d recognized my professional skills, I agreed to help without hesitation. He offered to buy me dinner for a month. What a grateful kid! I’d just been acting like a poised senior, but now my enthusiasm was back!

I’d expected something tricky, but it turned out to be just making promotional posters. Making posters wasn’t hard—but making eye-catching ones was. Ethan Davis was the youngest in the group, so they pushed him to ask for my help. After all, I had a reputation for being short-tempered.

Among my peers, I was already known as a "force to be reckoned with." Since freshman year, guys had confessed to me, and I’d turned down at least eight. The school rumor mill painted me as grumpy and hard to get along with—but really, I just hadn’t met someone I liked yet.

Guess that’s the trouble with being good-looking.

After agreeing to make the posters, I went the extra mile and helped them draft a promotion plan too. Ethan Davis and I met every night at 6 PM in the library. I’d work on the plan on my laptop, while he pored over medical textbooks I couldn’t understand.

When I got stuck and looked up at him, I’d can’t help thinking: A guy who’s focused is really attractive!

By the time he finished the chapter on dental materials, I’d wrapped up the plan and called him over to look at it. He walked over slowly, propping one hand on the table and resting the other on the back of my chair. He leaned in so close I could smell the faint cologne on him.

There we go—that’s the vibe a handsome guy should have. Why was he pretending to be such a sweet "little puppy"?

The library was the quietest place on campus. I could hear my own heartbeat, thudding faster and faster.

Me—someone who’d navigated the dating scene without ever catching feelings—was actually having a crush? Those were my exact words to my roommate. She laughed and told me, "Quit pretending to be a relationship pro when you’ve never even had a real boyfriend. A real player will see right through you."

Come on! Even if I’d never been in a serious relationship, I totally get how people work!

I sent the finished posters and follow-up promotion plan to Ethan Davis via email. He replied with a little thank-you emoji. I was just feeling sorry I wouldn’t get to see that eye-pleasing face anymore when Ethan Davis spoke up:

"Sister, I have a basketball game tomorrow. Will you come watch?"

I thought about my roommate’s warning, but I couldn’t help making excuses for myself. I wasn’t the one making the first move—he’d invited me.

After a battle in my head, I gave in to my own superficiality. Could you blame me? Ethan Davis in his jersey on that confession wall photo had been way too tempting!

I had to admit—sitting on the sidelines, watching this walking burst of charm up close, was a huge rush.

It wasn’t a formal game, just a friendly match between his class and another. Even so, Ethan Davis had no shortage of cheerleaders. I was just one face in the crowd, nothing special. When other players came off the court, their girlfriends handed them water. But when Ethan Davis walked over to me, there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. I moved aside, confused, but he just stood there and said, "Every other guy’s got someone to give them water—except me."

I had empty hands. The disappointment in his eyes was plain to see when he walked up to me.

I looked at him acting all coquettish, and my eyes crinkled with laughter. "Classmate Pei, are you trying to hit on me?"

His ears turned even redder—he was so easy to tease. I pulled a sports drink I’d stashed in my bag earlier and handed it to him. He took it, then joked, "Sister, you’re so amazing. If I wanted to court you, the line would stretch all the way to France."

"It’s true—Senior Xu does know a lot of upperclassmen," a girl’s voice cut in. I glanced over—it was the girl who’d greeted Ethan Davis in the library a few days earlier. She was holding a bottle of water out to him.

Ethan Davis’ expression turned cold—something I’d rarely seen. He said a quick "thank you" to the girl, then ran back onto the court.

The girl froze, still holding the water out. She turned to me and said, "Ethan and I were high school classmates. He barely has any female friends. If you don’t like him, please don’t hurt him."

I wanted to scream. I was the one being put out here! I’d come all this way on a hot day to watch an outdoor basketball game with no fan in sight. And Ethan Davis had seemed perfectly happy to me. Maybe my roommate was right—he was a total player.

When I didn’t respond, the girl left politely. Just then, Ethan Davis looked over at me. For a split second, his eyes seemed to be filled with stars.

I belatedly managed a small smile at him. Oh no—I think I like him.

I’d love to call this "humanity’s great defeat," but I wasn’t about to jump into a trap I knew was there.

The game ended at 6:30. Ethan Davis ran over, eager to carry my bag. "Sister, if you’re not busy, let’s get dinner together later?"

I, Sophia Miller, am nothing if not decisive. I lied and said I had plans, turning him down firmly—even though my heart ached a little. Lucky I hadn’t fallen too deep; the hurt wouldn’t last.

But after that, Ethan Davis kept asking me out, and I kept saying no. Even my other roommates couldn’t stand it anymore, saying, "This player’s really persistent with you." I started to waver. Maybe Ethan Davis wasn’t a player? I couldn’t let my roommate’s one comment snuff out my little spark of love.

That night, I finally gave in and agreed to have dinner with him the next day. Of course, something had to go wrong—I woke up with a fever.

The universe was out to get me.

I huddled under the covers and sent Ethan Davis a few messages, apologizing profusely. He didn’t reply. I figured he was mad. To a player, my whole act probably looked like I was playing hard to get. But heaven knew—I wasn’t!

Less than half an hour later, my roommate showed up with congee and side dishes to check on me. She’d even changed her tune, telling me, "Jiaojiao, I think Classmate Pei’s really sincere. You should treat him well. You should’ve seen him downstairs—he was so mad but also so worried about you. He even bought your lunch and delivered it himself."

Soon after, I got a message from Ethan Davis: "Sister, if you hate me, just say so. Get well soon."

"As long as you don’t reject me, I’ll buy you dinner every day."

Is this what they call a "green tea guy"? I’m into it.

I held back my laughter and sent him a voice message: "You’re such a green tea."

"As long as you like it," he replied. Playing that voice message out loud was one of my biggest regrets. My roommate screamed and leaned in, 八卦 written all over her face. "Are you two together now?"

Ethan Davis’ voice was innocent, with just a hint of deep charm. I was done for.