My stepbrother and I had been in a cold war for a week. As fate would have it, I bumped into him just as he realized he’d locked himself out. He stood there, face like an ice sculpture, and held out his hand. "Keys." Kiss?? I froze. I hesitated. I triple-checked the vibe. "Are you sure? Right now? Isn't that a little inappropriate?" Hayes looked at me with an unreadable expression, his tone firm. "Hurry up." The next second—SMOOCH. I planted a loud, wet one right on his lips. Then I whispered weakly, "You asked for it..." 01 Shock. Despair. Disbelief. All three emotions cycled through Hayes’s face in 4K resolution. He froze for a solid five seconds before stumbling back like he’d been tased. "I said keys! The metal things that open doors! KEYS!" A vein popped on his temple. His usually pale, cool-toned skin flushed a delicate shade of pink. I was stunned, too. Who the hell suddenly speaks English in the middle of a sentence? You can’t blame me for taking advantage of the situation. I mean, your girl got a perfect score on her AP English listening exam. I didn't need a mirror to know my face was exploding with color. But I couldn't lose the momentum. I choked back, "You fake foreigner! You spend a few years abroad and suddenly you forget how to speak human?" Hayes’s chest was heaving. The wind messed up his long hair, revealing the hidden strands of ocean-blue dye underneath. It matched his current turbulent mood perfectly. We stood there, engaging in a staring contest, neither of us saying a word. It was my dad who broke the silence. "Well, look at this. The house must be blessed this year. We’ve got two gargoyles guarding the door." I looked away first, spotting Dad and Aunt Holly. I immediately latched onto Aunt Holly’s arm, turning on the charm. "Aunt Holly! Look at Hayes, looking like a total thug with that hair!" Hayes seemed to be rebuilding his entire worldview from scratch. He didn't even react to my roast. Aunt Holly teased him a bit, which finally dragged his soul back into his body. He opened the door. I deliberately lagged behind, leaning into Hayes’s shoulder to whisper: "I heard guys with long hair usually have, you know... Erectile Dysfunction. Is that true?" Hayes gritted his teeth, his voice low. "Winnie!" I stuck my tongue out at him. Before stepping inside, I winked. "Ooh. The beauty is angry." 02 I’ve been obsessing over my brother for a long time. The root of this goes back to when I was five. I still remember the scene. The elegant Aunt Holly holding Hayes’s hand. That poker face of his breaking into a brilliant smile when he saw me. Hayes inherited all of Aunt Holly’s best genes. At eight years old, he looked like a runway child model. The neighbor’s daughter teased me back then: "Winnie, your dad bought you a live-in boyfriend." I dumbly asked, "What's a live-in boyfriend?" "It means he belongs to you." From that day on, I treated Hayes like my personal property. Unlike other girls who liked Barbies, I was only interested in dressing up Hayes. Dad bought Aunt Holly jewelry and clothes. Naturally, I used my allowance to buy Hayes trinkets. They weren't expensive, but I hand-picked every single one. Later, I understood what the neighbor actually meant, but the possessiveness and habit were already ingrained in my DNA. When I got older, I realized I was actually in love with him. One wrong step, and the whole path went crooked. He found out when he graduated high school. Dad sent him to London to support his artistic dreams. That was when I realized I had severe separation anxiety. I wanted to FaceTime him 24/7. I was a ball of anxiety every single day. Dad thought I was just adjusting to high school, so he let me take a month off. Every night, I slept in Hayes’s bedroom. Hugging his duvet. Smelling his scent. Thinking of him until I passed out. Extreme longing drives people crazy. At 16, fueled by god-knows-what courage, I got on a plane to London alone. Being unreachable for over ten hours sent the whole family into a panic. When I landed, I called Hayes, sobbing. "Hayes, please don't throw me away..." That was the first time Hayes skipped class—just to find me in a foreign country. That night, he patted my back to lull me to sleep, just like when we were kids. I gripped his collar, tears soaking the fabric, and whispered the question that had been eating me alive. "Hayes, can you please love me?" Hayes’s expression froze for a split second. But he quickly smiled. "I'm your brother. Of course I love you most." 03 After a tense dinner, we both went upstairs. Not long after, Hayes knocked on my door with a dark expression. "Where are my clothes?" I played dumb. "How should I know?" Hayes clenched his jaw. "I need to shower. Give me my pajamas." I yanked him into my room, crossed my arms, and acted unimpressed. "Apologize first." Hayes let out a scoff of disbelief. "Apologize? Me?" Yes. If Dad hadn't called us home for dinner, our cold war would still be freezing over hell. The reason was simple. I went clubbing. He caught me. He lectured me. I clapped back about his time abroad. Why could he party in London while I had to rot in the library? It ended with my tears, naturally. And then the silence began. I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Apologize." Hayes took a deep breath. "I’ll say it one more time. I went to a club once in London to drop off a birthday gift. I was inside for less than ten minutes." I knew that. But I was being a brat on purpose. He needed to learn his lesson about male virtue. Seeing I wasn't going to be reasonable, Hayes did what he always did. He folded. "Fine. My bad. I apologize." I didn't smile. I just gave a cold "Oh." Hayes had his long hair tied up in a messy bun, revealing black obsidian studs in his ears. "So, the pajamas. Now?" I blinked innocently. "I never said the pajamas were here." Hayes’s face stiffened. "Then where are they?" I grinned. "In my dorm room!" Since starting college, Hayes had been busy with his start-up. We rarely saw each other. So, I stole his clothes to sleep with at school. Hayes: "..." Before he could explode, I quickly added, "But I have a new set here. Men's style." Hayes’s face relaxed slightly. He reined in his temper. "Give me a set. I'll Venmo you." I bounced over to the closet and handed him brand-new silk pajamas. Hayes looked at his set. Then he looked at the matching set I was wearing, just in a different color. Silence again. "Winnie, you..." "Hayes," I interrupted, "your face looks really soft. Let me kiss it again." Three seconds later. Hayes walked out the door. Correction: He walked out with the pajamas, face black as thunder. I shrugged. I replayed his expression in my mind. Chef’s kiss. I should have peeled that expression off his face and framed it. But then again, I couldn't bear to hurt him. 04 I pulled out my phone and used my burner account to add Hayes’s work profile. He recently opened a studio making custom BJD (Ball Jointed Dolls). High-end stuff for the collector crowd. Technically, I shouldn't know about this. Hayes never tells the family about his struggles. But I have spies everywhere. I got his work contact. [Hello. Custom order.] Hayes must have been showering. He didn't reply for an hour. I scratched my head. Hayes usually showers in ten minutes. Why was he in the bathroom so long tonight? [Hello. Here is the price list. Please review.] I typed back like a sugar mama: [Give me the highest tier specs. Only one requirement: Realism!] Hayes replied like a bot: [Understood. Rest assured, likeness can reach 98%. We offer unlimited revisions.] I paid the deposit immediately. Then I cheekily asked: [Will you be making it personally?] Hayes: [Different team members handle different body parts.] Me: [I want you to sculpt the face. I’ll pay extra.] He hesitated, then replied: [Okay.] I thought for a moment, then typed: [Um... is it possible?] Hayes: [? What.] I sent a sketchy, winking emoji. [You know. Can you install... the hardware?] Hayes realized what I meant. He must have had customers like this before. [Yes. Please send the dimensions. Also photos of the face from different angles. Hands and legs would be helpful too.] I spammed him with photos of Hayes. To avoid detection, I chose public photos from his college days. As expected, Hayes went silent again. I could practically see him having a mental breakdown. [Hello? Still there, hun?] Five minutes later, having rebuilt his psyche, he replied: [What is your relationship to the person in the photos?] I answered truthfully: [His girlfriend.] Future girlfriend counts, right? Hayes stopped replying again. Half an hour later. [This requires an in-person handover. Is that acceptable? ^_^] The smile at the end was terrifying. I gritted my teeth: [Of course.] Hayes: [Great. Looking forward to meeting you ^_^] Why did I feel a chill down my spine? I let the lust take the wheel: [By the way, make the size XL.] Hayes: [...Okay ^_^]
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