Chapter 3: 34℉

Even now, thinking back to that sentence still makes Wendy physically shudder with embarrassment.

How could he possibly think of her?

That sentence was clearly a joke meant to make her uncomfortable—after all, Asher had hated her for three years.

Back then, Wendy had just graduated from middle school and came to the U.S. for a summer camp. Her father, Sam Wu, worried she might get bullied, told her that if anyone gave her trouble, she should tell those jerks that her "brother" was the quarterback for the Sprian Boys' High School American football team—that would guarantee her safety.

At the time, Wendy was much skinnier and a few centimeters shorter than she was now. In a camp with hardly any other Asian participants, even when she tried to strike up conversations, she didn’t make many friends. She had come to the U.S. to improve her language skills, but most of her free periods were spent quietly reading in her room.

No one bullied her—because no one even noticed her.

One evening, Wendy passed by the common lounge and saw a crowd gathered around the TV, watching an NFL preseason game. With no teachers around, a few boys had somehow smuggled in beer, and as word spread about the drinks, more people joined, turning the lounge into something like a party.

Wendy happened to walk by, curious about what magic American football held that made boys ignore their girlfriends’ kisses, eyes glued to the screen, even pushing their faces away.

She stood behind the couch and watched for a while, until Antus, a white boy who loved being the center of attention, noticed her and mocked her for not knowing anything about the sport.

She could’ve ignored him, but Antus had no concept of respect. Faced with his smug, condescending expression, Wendy, in a moment of impulse, blurted out Asher’s name.

Instantly, every pair of eyes in the room shifted from the TV to her.

Seeing Wendy’s serious expression, the entire room burst into laughter.

"Chinese girl, you’re saying you know Asher Voss?"

The one mocking her now was Owen, the football fanatic who’d earlier rejected his girlfriend’s affection, his face twisted with amusement. "If you know Asher, then I know your legendary martial arts superstar Jackie Chan!"

Antus stood up, joining in the taunt. "Hey, which sports channel did you hear Asher Voss’s name from?"

"You’re wrong, Antus. Bookworm here probably read about him in some magazine interview."

"Why can’t I know Asher?" Wendy found it absurd. "I really do know him."

"Why? No reason. Asher isn’t someone just anyone can—"

"I can prove it!" Wendy cut Antus off. "I have a photo of him."

"A photo of you two together?"

"...Well, no."

The first time she’d seen Asher at her dad’s place, she’d been stunned by how handsome he was. That night, when they all went out to eat, she’d secretly snapped a picture of his side profile to show off to her friends—her "stepbrother" outshone all the heartthrobs from the teen dramas they’d watched.

Wendy pulled up the photo and held up her phone for everyone to see, only to be met with even louder laughter.

"Hahahaha, what does this prove? That you ran into Asher on the street?"

"Photos like this are all over the internet. It’s just a random candid shot. Who knows if you even took it yourself or just grabbed it from someone’s I*******m?"

"Hey, are you a liar? Trying to fool us with this crap?"

The skepticism, jeering, and mockery threatened to overwhelm fifteen-year-old Wendy. What had she done wrong? She’d just told the truth. Why was it causing such a stir?

Flustered and red-faced, Wendy was caught off guard by how quickly things escalated.

Truthfully, the boys weren’t entirely wrong—Wendy really didn’t understand American football.

She had no idea how influential the sport was in the U.S., how even high school games were televised, how the stands at powerhouse schools would be packed on game days, how four- and five-star high school recruits were minor celebrities in their states, how their college decisions in senior year would draw thousands of eyes.

And Sprian Boys' High, with Asher Voss as starting quarterback, had already won back-to-back state championships in T-State.

So Wendy hadn’t realized that when her dad told her to drop Asher’s name if she got bullied, the point wasn’t that Asher played football—it was that he was Asher Voss, an idol boys worshipped, a figure they aspired to be.

His name commanded instant respect among teenage boys.

"I... I can call him. That should prove it, right?"

Wendy didn’t have Asher’s personal number, so she called the house instead. Luckily, Asher was the one who picked up.

"Hello."

Wendy’s phone was on speaker. The moment Asher’s voice came through, everyone’s eyes widened in shock. No one had expected this black-haired, dark-eyed Chinese girl to actually know Asher!

One girl couldn’t hold back a shriek of surprise.

"Hi, Asher. It’s Wendy."

Two seconds passed before he responded.

"Who?"

"It’s Wendy. Wendy Wu. We met last Friday, at home."

His voice was icy, devoid of emotion, only impatience. "Your dad’s not here. If you need something, call his cell."

"I’m calling for you, Asher. I’m calling you."

"Me? What for?"

"Nothing, I just—I’m at summer camp, and everyone wanted to talk to you, hear your voice. Sorry to bother you."

"Wait. Turn off the speaker and go somewhere private. I need to talk to you."

Under everyone’s envious gazes, Wendy did as he said, turning off the speaker and hurrying back to her room. "Okay, I’m alone now."

"What were you doing just now? Telling everyone we’re close? Using my name to show off?"

Asher’s voice on the other end was laced with anger, his tone so cold it instantly brought tears to Wendy’s already anxious eyes. She didn’t get a chance to explain her situation, just clutched her phone guiltily, tears welling up.

"I’m sorry, Asher. I’m really sorry..."

"Listen. You can’t use my name like that. You need to understand—we have no connection."

"I know, I’m sorry, Asher. I promise it won’t happen again." Wendy took a deep breath. "And don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about our relationship—"

"We don’t have a relationship. We’re practically strangers."

"...Sorry, Asher."

Asher wasn’t wrong. At the time, Sam Wu and Simone were just dating. She and Asher were two people who might one day become step-siblings in name only. Strictly speaking, they really had no ties.

And the situation earlier wasn’t like her dad had described—she wasn’t actually being bullied, wasn’t in some dire crisis that required name-dropping Asher to scare people off.

"I get it. Sorry for bothering you."

She didn’t want to wait for him anymore.

Wendy made the decision quickly. She was exhausted. All she wanted now was to find a nice café, enjoy some air conditioning, sip a cold drink—not stand here watching how much he despised being associated with her.

Wendy lingered at a dessert shop near campus until 5:30. Since Simone got off work at five, heading over now would be perfect timing.

Dragging two heavy suitcases, Wendy stood in front of a pale-yellow standalone house. She’d been here twice before, staying a total of almost a month. She knew the layout of this two-story home well—four bedrooms, a garage, a garden, a pool. It was upper-middle-class for the area.

The awkward part? This house wasn’t bought by her dad, Sam Wu. It was part of the assets Simone received in her divorce from Asher’s father, Edward.

Taking a deep breath, Wendy rang the doorbell.

The white door opened to reveal Simone, Wendy’s stepmother and a TV travel show host, smiling warmly.

Simone gave Wendy a hug, then asked where Asher was. Was he parking? But she hadn’t heard a car, and why hadn’t Wendy come in through the garage?

Wendy briefly explained the afternoon’s events, leaving out her trip to Asher’s school. She condensed it to waiting at the airport for two hours and "considerately" covering for Asher.

"He must’ve had something urgent come up. It’s fine—I took a cab here instead."

Simone frowned, sighing twice. "I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I apologize on Asher’s behalf."

Even now, traces of age showed on Simone’s face, but her delicate, striking features made it clear she’d been a stunning beauty in her youth.

Wendy smiled. "It’s okay, Simone. The trip here was smooth."

"I’ll call Asher right now and have him come home."

Simone patted her back reassuringly. "Sam Wu’s on his way too. He said when he has time, he’ll make you his famous smoked brisket."

Wendy’s father, Sam Wu, worked as a truck driver for a transport company, specializing in long-haul routes. Being an employee meant he couldn’t freely set his schedule—even though Wendy was arriving in the U.S. today, Sam Wu would get home later than her.

What caught Wendy’s attention was how Simone said her dad’s name—pronouncing "Sam Wu" in Chinese order, not the Western "Wu Sam." When Sam Wu first came to the U.S., he’d picked a very common English name, David, so this small detail warmed Wendy’s heart.

"That’s his signature dish. At his company parties, his barbecue is always a hit." Simone finished and went to the living room to call Asher.

When the call came, Asher was on his way to the airport. Hearing that the person he was supposed to pick up was already home, he immediately turned around.

Half an hour later, his car pulled into the garage. Flipping through his call log, Asher saw no missed calls or messages before the one from home.

She hadn’t reached out on purpose—meaning she was mad at him. Maybe because he hadn’t picked her up. Or maybe she was just mad at him, period.

Asher walked from the garage into the living room, his gaze instantly landing on Wendy in the open kitchen, helping Simone with dinner.

Sam Wu would pick up Chinese takeout on the way home, so they only needed to prepare a side salad. Wendy was chopping lettuce, still in the white fitted tank top and denim shorts she’d worn off the plane.

Her black hair was loosely tied into a ponytail, her skin glowing, her figure healthy and well-proportioned.

"Asher." Simone looked up at the sound of footsteps. "You’re back."

Wendy paused her chopping and glanced up, her dark eyes meeting Asher’s intense blue gaze.

Everything that had happened on the field that afternoon proved just how popular and admired he was. Yet all his attention was now blatantly focused on her.

Facing Asher now, Wendy forced a sweet smile—though internally, she was thinking she didn’t want to see him at all. If Simone weren’t here, she wouldn’t be smiling at him.

"Hi, Asher. Long time no see."

Asher slid one hand into his pocket, slowly approaching until his tall frame cast a shadow over the kitchen island, completely enveloping her.

"Welcome, Wendy."

Their eyes locked, Simone now outside the shadow. Wendy’s smile stiffened. Their mutual dislike was something they both knew well.

Also, to reassure Simone and Sam Wu, she’d pretend they got along fine in front of their parents.

He never cared about that.

So why was he suddenly standing so close, breaching normal personal space? Was he... trying to force her into an argument with him on her very first day, right in front of Simone?

Damn Asher. Scheming Asher. What game was he playing, staring at her like that?