I was in the middle of using a... personal device when the boy next door suddenly barged in. I awkwardly pulled the covers over my head, thinking he wouldn't see me, but then a hand reached under my blanket. 1 Ethan was two years older than me. We lived next door to each other and had been childhood friends since we were toddlers. But I never imagined there would come a day when he would catch me hiding under the covers, playing with a vibrating toy that should never see the light of day. I didn't even know he was coming over. It wasn't until my bedroom door clicked open and his tall figure appeared in the doorway that the blood rushed to my head. "Ah—!" I let out a short scream, my mind going blank. My only instinct was to yank the duvet over my head, covering myself completely. Doomed! Social death! I held my breath, praying he was just here to borrow a book or that my mom had sent him to call me for dinner, and that he would leave in the next second. Silence outside the duvet. However, the expected sound of the door closing didn't come. Instead, steady footsteps approached my bed, step by step. My heart beat so fast it felt like it would jump out of my throat. Then, a warm, dry hand reached into my blanket without warning! "!" My whole body went rigid, toes curling against the sheets. I felt like I was going to faint from lack of oxygen. That hand had a clear target. It brushed precisely past my thigh and touched the little thing that was still vibrating slightly. Fingertips seemed to graze the skin of my thigh, sending a fatal shiver through me. Then, he deftly removed it, and the vibration stopped abruptly. Ethan's low, calm voice came from outside the duvet: "Lily, why are you hiding under the covers? Your mom asked me to call you for dinner." He paused. I could even imagine him examining the object in his hand. Then, his voice sounded with a hint of imperceptible amusement: "What is this?" My brain buzzed. In a moment of desperation, I shouted through the blanket in a muffled voice: "M-massage stick! My calf is cramping!" Yes, a massage stick. Perfect excuse! I'm a genius! It was quiet outside for a moment. He seemed to be judging the authenticity of this statement. Then, he gently tugged at the corner of my blanket, his tone unreadable: "Come out and eat. Or... do you need me to help you 'massage'?" That sentence shot through my spine like an electric current. I clutched the duvet tightly, exposing only a pair of burning eyes, daring not look at him. Ethan stood by the bed, tall and straight, holding the "massage stick" in his hand, looking as composed as if he were examining a common tool. "I... I can do it myself." My cheeks burned like fried eggs, my voice as small as a mosquito's hum. He looked at me, a faint smile seemingly flitting across his deep eyes, so fast I thought it was an illusion. He didn't continue the dangerous topic. Instead, he naturally and calmly put the little thing into his own pocket. "Your mom wants you downstairs for dinner," he repeated, his gaze sweeping over my still-flushed face. He added flatly, "Lock the door next time you 'massage'." With that, he didn't stay any longer. He turned and left my room, even thoughtfully closing the door behind him. I was left alone in the room with a heart about to explode. He took it?! Why did he take my stuff! And... and put it in his own pocket! That thing... it might still have... I dared not think further, burying my burning face deep in my knees. Ethan... what does he mean? 2 I spent ten minutes mentally preparing myself in my room before dawdling downstairs for dinner. At the dining table, my mom was enthusiastically serving Ethan food. "Ethan, eat more. If only Lily were as sensible as you, I'd worry less." Ethan smiled politely. "You're too kind, Auntie. Lily is great." He looked completely at ease, as if the dominant and ambiguous man in my room just now was a hallucination. This realization made my ears hot, and I buried my head even lower. My mom, oblivious, continued to chatter: "Ethan, you're an orthopedist, right? Lily's been complaining about shoulder and neck pain from painting lately. She won't go to the hospital. You should talk to her!" Ethan put down his chopsticks, his gaze seemingly inadvertently falling on me. His look was calm, yet it made me feel like I was sitting on pins and needles. The corners of his lips curved slightly, his tone warm and concerned: "Is that so? If your shoulder hurts..." He paused before continuing leisurely, "Just using a 'massage stick' for local massage might not be effective enough." "Pfft—cough! Cough cough!" I choked on my rice, my whole face turning explosive red instantly. My mom quickly patted my back. "Child, why eat so fast!" She turned back to Ethan: "Exactly! I offered to buy her a neck massager, but she refused, saying she didn't need it." The smile in Ethan's eyes deepened. He looked at me meaningfully. "Mm, Lily... does have her own 'methods' for relief. However, the tools might not be professional enough. Next time you're uncomfortable, just tell me directly." Every word was normal, but combined, they were like bombs dropping in my ears! What was he hinting at? How much did he know?! This meal was torture. Every second was suffering. He chatted naturally with my parents, occasionally steering the topic to me, each time precisely stepping on my nerve of shame. When he finally got up to leave, I almost collapsed in my chair, feeling like I had fought a tough battle. 3 That night, I lay in bed tossing and turning. The events of the day and Ethan's meaningful words replayed in my mind. Shame, confusion, and an indescribable throb entangled together. Compelled by some mysterious force, I grabbed my phone, opened an anonymous forum, and typed a post with trembling fingers: [Confession] My neighbor brother, who is a doctor, caught me using a "massage stick"! He didn't expose me then and even confiscated the toy, but he kept teasing me with words at the dinner table. I'm dying!!! Online waiting, urgent!!! Not long after the post went up, notifications started pinging. A skyscraper of replies built up instantly. "First! Waiting for updates!" "Wait, sister, the point is the massage stick. Why didn't you dodge when he reached for it? That move itself is wild!" "Upstairs +1. And he mentioned it at dinner? He's definitely doing it on purpose! It's too easy for a doctor to verify if you really had a cramp. He's just teasing you! Enjoying your panic. This guy has high-level game!" "Just imagining it makes my toes curl... but honestly, why do I ship it? Calm and restrained neighbor brother VS socially dead childhood sweetheart. This plot is bestseller material!" "Suggest OP play along! Next time he mentions it, flirt back. Like, 'The effect is indeed mediocre. Do you have a better recommendation, brother?'" Reading these replies, the heat on my face rose again. These netizens have sharp eyes! Their words were like keys trying to pry open my closed heart. Just then, a reply quickly upvoted to the top jumped out. Sharp and to the point: "What are you afraid of? He's clearly interested in you. Men know men's games best. Attack directly. Just ask him: 'Brother, you took my stuff... do you want to demonstrate how to use it personally?' Guaranteed he'll be more flustered than you." "Boom—" I felt all the blood rush to my head. This reply... too bold, too naked! It was like stripping my guilt and secret expectations bare under the sun. But a voice deep inside screamed: They're right! Ethan's behavior can't be explained by just being a "brother"! With trembling fingers, I liked that reply, as if injecting myself with a bit of lonely courage. 4 The reply "Attack directly" planted a seed of rebellion in my heart, growing wildly overnight. The next day, I was restless all day. Holding a paintbrush, the lines I drew were messy. My mind was full of Ethan's calm face and that bold reply. Courage comes and goes quickly. By evening, that bit of courage was drowned by anxiety. I rolled around on the bed hugging my pillow, wanting to retreat countless times. But thinking of his ease at the dinner table, as if everything was under his control, a refusal to admit defeat bubbled up again. Why am I the only one in chaos? Taking a deep breath, I jumped out of bed, changed out of my pajamas into a decent T-shirt and shorts, took a few deep breaths in front of the mirror, and then opened the door like I was marching to my death. The hallway was quiet. I stood at his door, raising and lowering my hand repeatedly, my heart beating like a rabbit. Finally, I closed my eyes, steeled my heart, and rang the doorbell. Footsteps approached from inside, and the door opened. Ethan stood at the door. He seemed to have just showered, his black hair wet, a few strands hanging unruly on his forehead, less rigorous than during the day, more lazy and domestic. He wore a simple gray cotton T-shirt and lounge pants, smelling of fresh body wash. Seeing me, a clear surprise flashed in his eyes, quickly returning to calm. He stepped aside: "Lily? What's up?" "I... I came to get my stuff." I tried to make my voice sound righteous, but a slight tremor betrayed me. "Stuff?" He raised an eyebrow, as if not reacting. "It's... what you took from me yesterday... that, massage stick." The last two words were almost mumbled in my throat, my cheeks heating up uncontrollably. He realized, the corner of his lips seeming to curve. He turned to walk inside: "Come in. Close the door." I followed him into the study. This was the corner of his house I was most familiar with. Walls full of books, a neat desk, the air filled with the faint scent of books and his clean aura. He walked behind the desk but didn't open the drawer immediately. Instead, he leaned leisurely against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, looking at me. "Why the sudden rush to get it back?" he asked, eyes calm, like inquiring about an illness. "Cramping again?" Nowhere to hide under his gaze, I bit the bullet and followed my drafted script: "No! Just... just felt that it's my personal item. It's inappropriate to leave it with you." "Oh?" He dragged out the syllable, suddenly taking two steps closer to me. His tall figure brought invisible pressure. I instinctively stepped back, but my calves hit the edge of the soft sofa, and I fell onto it. He leaned over, hands propping on the back of the sofa on either side of me, completely enveloping me in his shadow. The fresh scent after a bath mixed with strong male hormones dominantly occupied all my senses. "Where is it inappropriate?" He lowered his head, gaze locking onto me, voice low and bewitching. "I'm a doctor. Helping you verify the compliance of a 'medical device,' isn't that just right?" His face was very close. I could clearly see his long eyelashes and the deep darkness in his eyes. My heart was about to jump out of my throat. That sentence from the forum spammed my brain. Go for it! I looked up, meeting his gaze, trying not to let my voice tremble: "Brother, you took it... Could it be, you want to demonstrate personally... the correct way to use it?" The moment the words fell, the muscles in Ethan's arms propped on the sofa seemed to tighten. The calm deep sea in his eyes suddenly surged with huge waves. Something strongly suppressed and highly aggressive broke through the ice. He stared at me, a look that seemed ready to devour me. The room was quiet, leaving only my heart beating like a drum and his gradually deepening breathing. Suddenly, he laughed. Not his usual gentle, faint smile, but one with a hint of roguishness, control, and amusement. "Lily Lin," he called my full name, voice terribly hoarse and burning hot. "Do you know the consequences of provoking a doctor?" Before I could react, he pinched my chin, applying slight pressure with his thumb. "Close your eyes." A commanding tone, unquestionable. Like under a spell, my eyelashes trembled, and I obediently closed my eyes. The next second, burning, soft lips pressed down with irresistible force, completely sealing my breath and thoughts.
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