The Rising Temperature between Me and My “Step-brother”

July, midsummer, Feld International Airport.

The bright and spacious arrivals hall bustled with people. A black-haired girl struggled to push a luggage cart stacked with two oversized suitcases, the name tag swaying as it displayed the bilingual "Wendy Wu" in both Chinese and English.

After a dozen hours of flight time, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. To make matters worse, the cart’s front wheels kept jamming, making it impossible to steer properly. With one forceful push, she nearly collided with a blond, blue-eyed backpacker beside her, barely managing to stop in time to avoid an accident.

Wendy wiped the sweat from her forehead and let out a relieved sigh, pressing a hand to her chest. The tinted glass of a nearby café reflected her current state—her hair, messy from sleeping on the plane, had been hastily tied into a cute, practical bun before landing. A red plaid shirt was knotted around her waist, paired with a white tank top and denim shorts that revealed a slender, fair midsection.

The light in her eyes sparkled like stars—or like delicate snowflakes—her striking looks drawing admiring glances from passersby as they took in the beautiful Chinese girl.

By chance, Wendy locked eyes with the same burly middle-aged white man from earlier. Flustered, she immediately pulled out her phone, pretending to be busy.

To combat jet lag, she had forced herself to stay awake on the plane by watching movies. To avoid straining her eyes, she’d chosen several lighthearted American teen rom-coms—filled with attractive leads, simple plots, and none of the eye-fatiguing special effects or ear-splitting soundtracks. Naturally… they’d also been a little sleep-inducing.

She’d been jolted awake by the moans of the movie’s protagonists making out in a car after sneaking out of a party. The passenger beside her had been watching her screen with rapt attention, eyes practically bulging, a satisfied grin on his face. When he noticed she was awake, he even asked if she’d lend him her headphones since she’d been sleeping the whole time anyway.

Wendy refused outright—the sounds in her headphones were far too intimate to share.

Shaking her head to dispel the awkward memory, she opened a message from her father sent two days prior:

Wendy Honey, I have a delivery run on the day you arrive, and Simone has work too. Asher will pick you up—their practice usually ends around 4 PM. If you need anything, call him, but he won’t have his phone during training. Here’s the number for Hayden, the team’s coaching assistant.

Not long after Wendy started elementary school, her father, Sam Wu, had moved to the U.S. with a friend’s help to work as a truck driver. With their time together growing scarce, her parents divorced when she was in sixth grade. She stayed in China with her mother, Fanny Wen, while Sam Wu remained in the U.S., eventually remarrying and starting a new family.

The name "Wendy Wu" was a blend of her parents’ surnames—Wu from Sam and Wen from Fanny. Even after the divorce, Fanny never changed Wendy’s last name, though friends and family often dropped the "Wu," simply calling her Wendy.

Today, the person replacing Sam Wu to pick her up was her stepbrother—Asher Voss.

Before today, Wendy had been to the U.S. twice.

The first time was three years ago, after graduating middle school. To reunite with her father and improve her English, she’d come for a summer camp, where she met Simone—then her father’s girlfriend—and her son, Asher.

The camp lasted three weeks, but Wendy only had a few days with her father at the beginning and end. She’d only met Asher twice, and his attitude during those encounters made one thing clear:

He didn’t care about her at all. Regardless of whether their parents married, to him, she was just a stranger with no connection to him.

The second time was last summer, when Wendy came to the U.S. for vacation. By then, Sam Wu and Simone were already married, making Asher her stepbrother in name. They’d had to live together for nearly three weeks.

At first, Wendy had tried to extend goodwill toward Asher as she had before. She understood why he might dislike her and her father—unlike her, Asher’s family had been torn apart right after his parents’ divorce when his mother remarried. Wendy, on the other hand, had barely lived with her father, so his new family affected her far less than it did Asher.

Unfortunately, her efforts earned her nothing. Without the bond of years spent together, Asher still refused to see her as family.

After a week of living together, Wendy accepted that Asher simply didn’t like her. She stopped being nice to him too—if he wanted to ignore her, fine! She didn’t care!

She’d called him an arrogant jerk more than once, deliberately provoking his temper where their parents wouldn’t notice.

So who would’ve thought that he would be the one picking her up this time?

Her flight had arrived early, and customs had been unusually smooth. It was only 3 PM—still practice time for the team.

Wendy mentally translated what she wanted to say into smooth English before dialing the number. She’d bought a prepaid U.S. SIM card online before coming, hoping the recipient wouldn’t ignore an unknown caller.

"Hey, this is Hayden. Who’s this?" A young man’s voice came through the phone.

"Hi, I’m Wendy. I’m Asher’s… friend. Has practice ended yet? I need to talk to him about something."

"Oh, not yet."

Hayden didn’t seem surprised to receive a call for Asher on his own phone. "The coach arranged a scrimmage with another team today, so it’ll run later than usual. Is it urgent? I can pass along a message."

"It’s nothing urgent. I’ll try him later. Thanks, Hayden."

The crowd here was chaotic and noisy—Wendy’s only thought was to leave as soon as possible. She quickly made up her mind, pushing her luggage cart toward the airport exit, where rows of taxis waited to pick up passengers.

As she waited for a cab, she happily planned ahead: The drive from the airport to her father’s place would only take about an hour. She could call Asher once she got home—perfect, no need to bother him.

But the next second, Wendy realized the flaw in her plan.

She didn’t have a key.

She’d assumed Sam Wu sent Asher to pick her up to help them bond faster. She was coming to study at the same university as Asher. Having a star quarterback as an older brother would make her college life infinitely smoother, basking in his halo of popularity.

Turns out, her dad hadn’t thought that far ahead. If Asher didn’t pick her up, she wouldn’t be able to get inside even if she made it to the house.

With two overweight suitcases in tow, the taxi headed straight for Syracuse University’s stadium.

4 PM—the sun was at its fiercest, the open-air field beneath the scorching heat like a massive energy furnace, radiating waves of blistering warmth.

"I didn’t expect them to take a scrimmage this seriously. Asher’s professionalism is unmatched!"

Hearing Asher’s name, Wendy looked up and was surprised to see quite a few fans gathered to watch practice. She couldn’t help but admire their dedication—she was only here out of necessity, but these fans genuinely loved football enough to brave the heat.

The downside was, their enthusiasm left her no space. Dragging her luggage, Wendy circled nearly a quarter of the field before finally finding a relatively empty corner to settle in.

No shade, no shelter—the faint breeze brushing her face offered no relief.

Shielding her eyes from the sun, Wendy squinted as she scanned the field for Asher.

The two teams wore purple and dark yellow jerseys, helmets obscuring their faces. Among the sea of hulking players, her gaze suddenly locked onto one in particular—a guy in purple, number 7.

His build was perfect—just the right kind of strong. Though, of course, his "strength" was relative to her.

Compared to the truly massive linemen in front, his physique was balanced and athletic, his movements fluid like a swift leopard—a predator with pinpoint precision.

The sun had already painted Wendy’s cheeks pink. She fanned herself—definitely the heat’s fault, not because she’d noticed the player’s firm, muscular thighs and naturally imagined the curves leading to a firm, perfectly rounded backside.

He looked like he radiated power—his arms, his legs—like he could stand firm no matter the weight he carried.

"Hah…"

Well, she didn’t understand football, and she couldn’t spot Asher in the game. She had to find something to focus on.

Wendy stared unblinkingly at the guy, but his face remained unclear—the distance and the helmet’s shadow cast a veil of mystery over him, only revealing the lower half of his handsome face.

His lips curled into a devil-may-care smirk, exuding confidence and roguish charm.

That perfect balance of intrigue—just enough to spark curiosity and imagination—made it impossible for Wendy to look away.

The teen rom-coms she’d watched on the plane were playing out in real life. That number 7 was probably the school’s golden boy, the guy every other guy wanted to be, the one who cycled through dates every week. Oh, wait—

His position was toward the back, making him seem like a supporting player, not the hero leading the team to victory. Hmm, maybe he wasn’t a key player, but he was definitely the kind of bad boy who stole the spotlight at parties.

Everyone orbited around him, yet his eyes stayed fixed on you.

People came and went—you talked to others, chatted, told yourself not to overthink it—but his intense gaze kept pulling you back, forcing you to look at him…

Leading you upstairs to kiss, to touch, asking why you’d been avoiding him.

Stop!

Wendy squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t some lovesick fangirl. Her only mistake was not sleeping on the plane and binge-watching those teen movies!

"I dreamed about Asher last night."

Wendy deliberately tuned out the conversation, turning toward the voices—two white girls around her age who had arrived too late to find a better spot, forced to settle in this deserted corner.

"Mhm, go on. What’d you do to him in that dream?"

"I don’t remember the beginning—probably boring stuff."

The girl in a light blue tank top shook her head. "But here’s the weird part, Nancy—just as I was about to kiss him, my alarm went off! Ugh! Do you know how mad I was? One more second, but I was already awake. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall back asleep."

"No wonder you begged me to come watch Asher with you. Wanted a better look so you can dream about him again tonight?"

"Don’t act like you’re not just as bad. Who was it that agreed to come before I even finished my sentence, just at the mention of Asher’s name? It’s not just me who wants to see him."

Hearing someone she knew was the star of another girl’s dreams was… awkward. Wendy rested her chin on her arm as she quietly watched the football game she barely understood.

"Beautiful long pass!"

"Did you see Neil’s catch? So cool!"

An impressive throw sent the crowd into cheers.

Was that really amazing? That was the number 7 guy passing to the other player!

Wendy grinned, happily watching the mysterious number 7 huddle with his teammates. When he turned, she finally caught the name on the back of his jersey—

Voss.

What?!

The veil of mystery was ruthlessly torn away. The guy whose physique alone had captivated her was none other than her "brother"—Asher Voss.

But—wasn’t the number 7 player supposed to be some supporting nobody? How was he the team’s star quarterback? She had immediately ruled out the possibility of him being Asher!

Even if she knew nothing about football, she understood the quarterback’s importance. Since when did the most crucial player hide behind others, protected like some fragile—

Wait.

Maybe that was exactly why.

He was the core—the offensive strategist, the sole target of the opposing defense’s fury.

So the entire team shielded him, the linemen standing like an unbreakable fortress before him.

"Come on, Asher! We know you’re the best!"

"Lightning, go!"

The sun blazed, the air dry and still. Standing at the edge of the college field, Wendy suddenly took a deep breath.

It hit her—if this was going to be her school, then Asher was her quarterback too.

This wasn’t just some teen rom-com replaying from her flight.

This was reality.

The most popular guy on campus was… her brother.