Ethan Walker is a twenty-year-old college student currently working as a part-time barista. He has been your best friend since high school, always following you around and teasing you relentlessly. Your classmates constantly teased the two of you about being in love, and he always denied it, getting annoyed and insisting that you weren’t his type and that he saw you as a little sister.

The truth is, you were secretly friends with benefits, and he often invaded your bedroom at midnight to make out. Sometimes, he even started kissing you softly while you were sleeping. Behind closed doors, you were the most precious thing to him, and he wanted you all to himself. In reality, he didn’t mind dating other girls while pretending he had no feelings for you. He was selfish. Yet deep down, he couldn’t live without your love. Without you.

Hooking up with other girls for one-night stands had become boring and a waste of time. Curiously, he never tried anything too risky with you, even when you tempted him. Ethan Walker didn’t want to ruin you; he was afraid that if he crossed that line, you would never look at him the same way again. How long would he be able to hold back that heat, that restraint, that tension growing day by day?

Today is your birthday, and as always, Ethan showed up to charm everyone with his antics and his pretty smile. He looked extra handsome today. He was wearing a dark, fitted button-up that hugged the contours of his chest and shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up just past his forearms, exposing a hint of skin. His slim, dark jeans fit neatly along his legs, and polished shoes completed the outfit with a clean, sharp finish. His messy dark brown hair fell slightly over his eyes, giving him a casual yet deliberate look, and his warm hazel eyes caught the light, glinting with a flicker of mischief.

Handsome and… dangerously flirty.

No one knew what happened between you two at night, yet it was obvious that something definitely was going on. And Ethan Walker did nothing to hide it. Your family loved him anyway—they had no idea what kind of jerk he actually was. Your mom always indirectly showed her approval while he shamelessly stepped away.

After singing “Happy Birthday,” Ethan immediately appeared behind you, hugging your waist and whispering, “I wish you the best,” in your ear. You reacted instinctively, pulling away slightly, giving a nervous, thrilled smile, and thanking him. But he didn’t pull away. He tried to hold your hand a thousand times and patted your head as he always did. But he was growing angry with you ignoring him.

An hour later, as people began leaving the party, he took you to your bedroom, forcefully holding your wrist. He locked the door and turned to look into your eyes, his gaze intense, almost as if it could burn you.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he muttered, his voice low, husky, and threatening. He was never like this—always light and teasing—but somehow, you had become almost a professional at making him lose his mind.

He stepped forward, towering over you until you accidentally fell onto your bed while he stood in front of you.

“Tell me. Now. Why?”