The Responsible Younger Man

Back home, Chris pulled a tissue from the box and handed it to me.

“Wipe your face. Your makeup will smudge.”

I slapped his hand away.

“None of your business.”

“Sister, figure it out. I helped you. If you confessed and he rejected you, wouldn’t that be more embarrassing?”

“How did you know?”

Even I did not know Pei Yue was married.

How did he?

“That woman was a senior at my university. Her wedding was huge. I never met the groom, but I knew she was married.”

“What if they were siblings?” I argued weakly.

Chris looked at me like I was stupid.

“She’s an only child. Also, people who like each other have a certain look.”

“Fine, fine. I know you have many people liking you.”

I leaned toward him, face solemn.

“But I’m not crying because I’m heartbroken.”

“Then?”

“I’m crying because from today onward, I am no longer single in the entire alumni circle.”

I pressed him into the sofa and spoke with deep grief.

“Do you understand?”

“I lost an entire fish pond!”

I had maintained my single persona for so long just to happily play.

He could have saved me in many ways.

Why ruin my reputation?

Idiot.

I was still drowning in sorrow when Chris suddenly flipped us over.

Before I reacted, I was beneath him.

One hand held my waist.

His mouth was beside my ear.

“I can take responsibility, sister.”

His breath brushed my skin.

A shiver ran through me.

I tried to sit up, but he held me down.

“Are you afraid?”

A joke.

Would I, a queen who had sailed a thousand seas, fear an immature brat?

I raised an eyebrow.

My hand slid under his shirt from bottom to top.

“I’m afraid?”

My fingers circled on his chest.

I could feel his breathing grow hotter.

His body changed obviously.

I whispered,

“Let me be on top.”

Chris easily switched positions.

My breath slowly approached his.

Just before our lips touched, I reached beside the sofa.

Click.

The silver handcuffs I had forgotten there last time successfully locked around his wrist.

I climbed off him under his disbelieving stare and tapped his chest.

“If you want to take responsibility, start by learning how to unlock handcuffs.”

I turned away elegantly.

Behind me, Chris said,

“Fine. You wait.”

After that day, I avoided Chris for two days.

As his step-sister by adult remarriage, I felt slightly awkward.

But embarrassment did not mean I would abandon my identity as queen of the sea.

I continued living splendidly outside.

That day, I went to a pool hall to meet an online friend.

He was handsome.

Soft hair.

Baby face.

Very fashionable.

“Are you sister?” he asked with a sweet smile.

I nodded.

He had a little dimple and a tiger tooth.

Extremely lethal.

I actually blushed.

Bang.

Another shot missed.

I showed disappointment.

The younger guy walked behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

“It’s okay, sister. I’ll teach you.”

I leaned into him shyly.

He held my hands and taught me.

Just as we were becoming beautifully sticky, a mobile block of ice appeared beside us.

Chris placed an ice-cold cola on the pool table.

Then began hitting balls at the next table with loud, angry strikes.

Bang.

Bang.

The entire hall could hear his resentment.

I pretended not to see.

“This is too hard,” I said to the puppy boy. “Maybe we should go over there?”

I pointed at a perfectly set table and lied with open eyes.

Our intention had never been pool anyway.

Then Chris sneered from the next table.

“Heh.”

That sound carried infinite mockery.

The puppy boy could not take it.

“What do you mean, man?”

“Nothing,” Chris said, sinking another ball easily. “Just interesting.”

His cue hit the floor.

“Men don’t lie,” the puppy boy said. “One game?”

“Sure,” Chris answered. “Let this beauty break.”

He pointed at me.

I was about to curse him.

Then the puppy boy said,

“Fine. If you win, my girl belongs to you.”

Great.

I had become the stake.

I immediately lost interest in him.

Chris, a rich young master who had played pool since childhood, handled him effortlessly.

The puppy boy lost.

I prepared to leave with Chris.

After all, I had been “lost” to him.

At the door, however, several muscular men blocked us.

“Wait,” the puppy boy said, his sweet smile gone. “You two know each other, don’t you?”

“No,” I said. “I’m just following the rules. Or did you lose and regret it?”

“So you were playing me.”

“So what if we were?” Chris said without hesitation.

The men blocked the exit.

I was not afraid.

I simply did not want to ruin my makeup over trash.

My silence became fear in Chris’s eyes.

He took my hand, pulled me into his arms, and pressed my head against his chest.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I’m here.”

At that moment, I admitted it.

A childish boy had his uses.

At least when danger came, his embrace was warm.