Chapter 4: 35℉

Dinner was delayed until 8 p.m. while waiting for Sam Wu to return. Faced with a spread of Chinese dishes, Wendy thoughtfully offered Asher a choice of utensils.

"Asher, do you want a fork or chopsticks?"

In front of Sam Wu and Simone, Wendy played the part of sweetness and gentleness, pretending she hadn’t heard Asher’s earlier remark on the field about not considering her family. She acted so friendly and likable.

Asher’s gaze lingered on her left hand—slender and delicate.

"A fork, thanks."

Wendy handed him the fork just as Sam Wu, who had just taken his seat, called Asher’s name and asked about his training that day.

Asher didn’t answer, but Wendy immediately turned to Sam Wu. The reason was simple—her father’s voice had trembled, stuttered, and dripped with nervousness!

He sounded like someone speaking English for the first time.

But Sam Wu had come to the U.S. to work as a truck driver largely because he’d once studied abroad here and spoke fairly fluent English. That was before he met Wendy’s mother, Fanny Wen. Later, his family’s business went bankrupt, leaving him in debt. He’d dropped out of college after just one month of his sophomore year, returning home with no money to continue. He found work in a factory, met Fanny Wen, and the two married.

Plus, he’d lived in the U.S. for years since then. How could he falter so badly over a simple question?

Asher set down his water glass. "No training this afternoon. The coach switched it to a scrimmage."

Sam Wu nodded. "Oh, that’s... pretty sudden. Did you prepare well...?"

Not wanting to watch Sam Wu fumble for words, Wendy smoothly cut in. "Dad, you’re free tomorrow, right? Can you take me to open a bank account?"

Her cute, playful tone lightened the mood—maybe a bit too much, because Asher suddenly glanced at her.

"Sure, of course. We can hit the supermarket too," Sam Wu agreed readily.

Midway through dinner, Simone left to take a call, leaving the three of them at the table. The air turned awkward again.

As if to heighten the tension, Wendy abruptly switched to Chinese.

"Dad, I’m sleeping in tomorrow. Don’t wake me."

"Okay, rest well. But let’s stick to English at home, alright?" Sam Wu said gently, nudging her to include Asher.

"Since when does he want to be included? I don’t see it."

Wendy stubbornly kept speaking Chinese, acting like the strikingly handsome boy across from her didn’t exist.

After dinner, Wendy returned to her room to unpack. The long flight and the exhaustion she’d built up to fight jet lag left her so drained that halfway through, she gave up and headed for the shower.

On her way downstairs, she overheard Simone in the dining room.

"If you couldn’t pick her up, you should’ve told me. I’d have made other arrangements. Wendy waited two hours at the airport..."

"She waited two hours?"

"Yes. So apologize, or at least explain why you were late."

"Got it."

Asher’s reply was calm, but his eyes flicked to Wendy hovering outside the doorway, hairdryer in hand. She slowed her steps behind Simone, shamelessly sticking her tongue out at him—gleeful over his scolding.

Not wanting to spoil her petty victory, Asher ducked his head to hide a smile.

An hour later, freshly showered, Wendy stepped into the hallway and sighed when she found the light off.

She’d left it on deliberately—her night blindness made the dark unbearable.

Groping her way along the wall, her fingers suddenly brushed warm skin. She yelped, but the sound was cut short as she was yanked into a room.

"Hey." Asher looked down, his eyes darkening the next instant.

Wendy stood there in a flimsy pink silk nightgown, her skin flushed from the steam, lips plump and glistening.

His voice dropped rough. "You touched me first."

"I—I didn’t know you were there! Why’d you turn the light off? I couldn’t see."

Her fingertips tingled, the odd mix of softness and hardness lingering in her mind. Wendy’s cheeks burned—those were his abs. Even through his shirt, they’d been unmistakable.

She bit her lip. "Did you need something?"

"Coach swapped training for a scrimmage today. Ran late, couldn’t pick you up."

Wendy barely processed his words. He’d pulled her into his unlit room, the only light coming from the moonlit window...

Except now even that was blocked by Asher’s broad frame, plunging her into near-total darkness.

Blindness sharpened her other senses.

Each breath flooded her with his scent—unfamiliar, intensely male, sending heat crawling under her skin. The proximity was unbearable.

She held her breath, terrified the pounding of her heart would give her away.

She wanted the light on but wouldn’t ask. Her night blindness was a secret she’d kept during her last two visits.

Pressing her palms to the door behind her for support, she forced a scoff.

"Oh, really?" Her voice pitched higher, feigning indignation.

Even someone as oblivious as Neil would’ve noticed her discomfort—how she refused to look at him.

"‘Ran late’? Two hours is just ‘running late’? Your timekeeping’s pathetic."

She was laying it on thick, pretending outrage, unaware she’d been addressing the wall.

"Tell me, Asher—are you this lousy with girlfriends too? With that attitude, she must—"

The word "girlfriend" slipped out, and she instantly regretted it. It sounded like she was comparing herself to one—which couldn’t be further from the truth.

The light snapped on, blinding her.

To her embarrassment, she realized she’d been lecturing the wall—Asher had been standing to her right all along.

Then his fingers gripped her chin, turning her face to his.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "What would my girlfriend do, exactly?"

Probably cheat. But with a guy this unfairly attractive—would she?

"Nothing." Wendy pressed her lips together, looking away.

"Sorry, Wendy."

His blue eyes softened with something dangerously close to affection. "Won’t keep you waiting next time."

"Don’t bother. I never wanted your help anyway."

She kept her tone icy. "I could’ve gotten here alone. No need to inconvenience yourself—"

"I volunteered to pick you up." Asher laughed, the warmth in his gaze at odds with his usual arrogant quarterback persona.

"Wanted to see you sooner."

"Asher!"

Last year, he’d ignored her. Now, was this his new tactic to get under her skin?

She glared. "Could you act normal?"

Hands in his pockets, he raised a brow. "Define normal."

The old Asher would’ve scoffed and shot back—

‘Picking you up isn’t the same as picking up a girlfriend.’

That was the Asher she knew.

"I planned this trip before knowing you’d be here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come early."

She gripped the doorknob, meeting his gaze. "Remember? Last year, you said if I was still around for summer training, you’d stay at the dorms."

He remembered. Back then, fresh off moving in, he’d only known her as the girl who’d name-dropped him at camp.

Asher tilted his head. "So I can’t stay here?"

"No! I mean—" Wendy flapped her hands. If anyone had rights to the house, it was Asher—Simone owned it.

"Look, since we clearly don’t like each other, let’s avoid each other unless necessary. You don’t talk to me; I won’t bother you."

She blinked up at him expectantly.

"......"