Secret Crush: From the First Meeting

As soon as I stepped through the door, I saw Jamie Brown. He was my therapist back when I was studying in Miran City, the one I used to visit regularly.

I knew we were from the same hometown, but I never imagined we'd end up being set up for a date.

Jamie was strong and refined, the kind of man who exuded a quiet elegance. In the clinic, he always wore impeccably tailored dark suits, with gold-rimmed glasses and neatly styled hair.

Today, though, he was in a simple, solid-colored sweater, making him seem much warmer and approachable.

It suddenly hit me—Larry was still behind me. When he showed up at my house this morning, he had that same scholarly, gentle demeanor. But the moment I realized he was the same high school bully who broke eight ribs in one swift kick, every unpleasant memory from those years came rushing back.

I couldn't figure out how our family was even remotely connected to his.

"Phoebe, this is Jamie. He's a therapist who had his own practice in Miran!"

Mrs. Hansom called out as soon as she saw me, waving me over.

"He's thinking about moving back here, so you two should really get to know each other."

Jamie recognized me, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile as he opened his mouth to greet me. But I quickly shot him a series of exaggerated winks.

"Dr. Brown, nice to meet you," I said, trying to divert any mention of our past connection.

I didn't want my family to know I regularly saw a therapist, or that ever since high school, I'd been suffering from severe insomnia, reliant on specially prescribed medication just to get a few hours of sleep.

Jamie winked back and gave a slight nod, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Steele."

Larry, however, didn't miss our little exchange. He sneered, leaning in close enough that only I could hear him, his voice dripping with mockery as he echoed, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Steele."

"What's your problem, Larry?" I threatened, raising a fist as if to punch him.

Larry immediately raised the bag with the pork ribs, blocking my view of Jamie.

"And who might this be?" Jamie asked politely.

I was scrambling for an answer when Larry coolly put down the bag, met Jamie's gaze, and introduced himself.

"Larry Harrison, Phoebe's number one date."

He shot me a glance, a hint of resentment in his tone, then raised an eyebrow at Jamie, his expression tinged with a subtle challenge.

"Phoebe, how could you? Your father promised me that today was for Jamie to have dinner and meet the family. How could you schedule someone else—"

Mrs. Hansom's face clouded over with displeasure. Before she could go on, my mom rushed out of the kitchen, trying to smooth things over. "Oh, Larry's just my godson! He's here on behalf of his mother to celebrate Christmas with us."

"God—son?"

I was flabbergasted, as was Larry.

My mom pulled me aside and whispered, "I had no idea your dad planned to introduce Jamie today. He didn't tell me a thing before he left."

"I don't know how your dad told Mrs. Hansom to bring Jamie here today. He didn't tell me before he left."

"Wait, Mom, didn't you say he was just visiting as a family friend?"

She wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes suddenly lighting up.

"You took pictures of him, remember? I knew you'd be shy to date him.

"It's okay. Two dates at once. The odds of success are higher that way."

I could never quite understand how my parents could, on one hand, make me feel so inadequate, and on the other, have such unrealistic expectations.

After pacifying everyone, my mom went back to the kitchen, but not before giving me a meaningful look as she closed the door.

I knew what she meant, but I didn't want to acknowledge it.

Mrs. Hansom received a call and had to leave, leaving just the four of us in the living room. I was squeezed between Larry and Jamie, feeling utterly trapped.

"Well, Mr. Harrison, it seems I'm now number one," Jamie said with a smile, sipping from his glass.

I nearly choked on the tangerine I was eating. Larry, noticing, quickly handed me a glass of water.

"Don't be so sure."

"Pardon?" Jamie blinked, clearly not expecting that response.

Larry clicked his tongue, his tone leisurely.

"You wouldn't understand unless someone had secretly taken photos of you.

"Right, Phoebe?"

This time, I really did choke on my water. I shot up from the couch, waving my hand frantically.

"Mom! I'll help you in the kitchen!"