Secret Crush: From the First Meeting

Maybe out of consideration for me, Larry didn't drive too fast, but I still couldn't help feeling a bit anxious.

My hands clung tightly to his jacket as I nervously asked, "Does your mom know you ride this thing?"

"Your mom knows, so what do you think?" Larry replied with a shrug.

For some reason, I could never come up with a good response to Larry's comments. Maybe this was what they called a generation gap.

After we successfully packed the pork ribs and were about to check out, I realized my phone had died and I didn't bring any cash.

Alexander must have been too engrossed in playing games on my phone to remember to charge it!

I glanced over at Larry, hoping he could help.

He simply shrugged and said, "Don't look at me, I was in a rush and forgot my phone."

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. I grabbed his left hand and pulled up his sleeve, only to find his wrist bare.

I was completely puzzled.

"Don't you have a smartwatch, the one for kid?"

Now it was Larry's turn to look confused.

"A what?"

As I was scratching my head, wondering what to do, a familiar figure appeared at the next register.

Of course, during the holidays back home, you're either going to run into an ex or an old classmate.

Nelson Thompson, my old classmate, and the guy I had secretly crushed on for three years in high school.

"Phoebe Steele!"

He had just finished paying and was walking toward me with a shopping bag in hand.

I quickly let go of Larry's hand and flashed Nelson a sweet smile, but my smile froze as I noticed someone trailing behind him—a girl I knew all too well.

It was Irene Toland, another high school classmate.

Irene was the girl who led the entire class in ostracizing me shortly after freshman year started, all because they thought my voice was "too innocent," and they accused me of pretending to be something I wasn't.

Even after all these years, my voice hadn't changed, but Irene had transformed from a schoolyard bully to a soft-spoken, gentle woman.

At this moment, Irene was holding onto Nelson's arm and greeted me with a smile.

"Phoebe, it really is you! Nelson thought he might've been mistaken."

Her smile was warm and friendly, as if we were old friends.

But I couldn't stop the flood of memories from high school that came rushing back.

I remembered how, during our first year, Irene had led a group of girls from other classes to corner me in the dormitory. They had heard rumors that there was a "fake innocent" girl in our class who had all the boys talking to her and even had the teachers favoring her because of her good grades.

So, they wanted to "see for themselves."

They didn't do anything too outrageous—just touched my face, tugged at my hair, mocked my clothes, and mimicked my voice in a sarcastic tone.

But to someone who had just moved away from home and was living at school for the first time, it was terrifying.

I couldn't move, couldn't cry; all I could do was tremble uncontrollably.

Just like now, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

The next moment, a warm, strong hand enveloped mine.

I looked up at Larry in confusion.

His calm eyes met mine as he spoke softly, "Let's head home. Your mom's waiting for us."

"Larry Harrison!"

Before I could respond, Irene's voice cut through the tension.

She gasped in astonishment. "Larry Harrison! Is that really you? From class eleven? You—"

"Are you two going to pay for those ribs or what?"

The cashier's impatient voice rang out behind us.

"Credit," Larry replied coldly, shooting Irene a frosty glance before pulling out his card and completing the transaction.

Then, without another word, he tugged me away from the scene.

The whole way back, my mind was a whirl of thoughts, piecing together Irene's words.

Class eleven... Larry Harrison from class eleven...

Suddenly, a memory surfaced—a love letter from class eleven.

I slapped Larry's shoulder in surprise.

"Wait, you're the Larry Harrison from class eleven? The one who was always getting in trouble for fights?"

Larry came to an abrupt stop, causing me to bump into his back.

"Took you long enough to remember, Miss Perfect from class one, always top of the charts."

He chuckled derisively.

My heart sank a little as I nervously asked, "So, does that mean... you wrote me a—"

"Phoebe!"

The elevator doors opened just as Alexander dashed out, whispering urgently, "Code red! Mrs. Hansom's here with another guy.

"He's a doctor this time, pretty handsome, almost on par with Larry."

He sneaked a glance at Larry, who furrowed his brow and looked down at me.

"Phoebe, do the potential sons-in-law at your place have to compete for the spot or something?"