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Knocked on the Wrong Door
After getting drunk,
I went to knock on my crush's door and tearfully called him a heartbreaker.
After yelling for a while,
a cold voice came from behind me:
"Lane, come here! You got the wrong door!"
1
My head was spinning, but that cold, deep voice behind me sounded awfully familiar—was that Chris Stone?
I turned around to see a devastatingly handsome man standing at the door across the hall. His features were striking, dressed in casual loungewear, radiating an unapproachable coldness.
Damn, he was gorgeous. Wait—I shook my head—wasn't that Chris Stone?
I pointed at the door I'd been banging on for ages, seriously mocking him: "Chris, you're so dumb. This is your apartment."
He sighed, frowning as he rubbed his temples. "Lane, come here."
I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes, stubbornly saying, "I'm not coming over. I'm here to break up with you."
"Allow me to remind you," Chris said with what seemed like an amused huff, leaning against his doorframe, "Miss Lane, we were never together."
My eyes instantly reddened, tears threatening to spill. "So you have changed your mind. You heartbreaker."
Chris: "......"
"Alright, stop making a scene. You'll wake the neighbors." He looked at me helplessly, reaching out to pull me toward him. "Come inside and sober up first."
Everything was blurry before my eyes—there were two of him reaching for me. Annoyed, I tried to push him away but missed completely, losing my balance and pitching forward.
The violently tilting world steadied as a hand caught my waist. Chris's handsome face loomed large in my vision.
He scooped me up, and I nestled into his arms, breathing in his crisp, cool scent. That sense of security wrapped around me.
I nuzzled his neck, taking a deep, satisfied breath before breaking into a smile, tilting my chin up proudly. "Since you're the one apologizing first, I'll forgive you. You're still my favorite person."
The man snorted. "How generous of you, Miss Lane."
I leaned against him, eyes closed. A moment later, I felt Chris about to let go and immediately snapped awake.
Opening my eyes, I poked his cheek with my finger, accusingly. "You want to abandon me?"
Chris's face stiffened. He turned his head to the right, but my finger followed. He couldn't escape.
"Lane," he took a deep breath, "I'm just trying to put you on the couch."
I wrapped both arms tightly around his neck, refusing emphatically. "No. I like it just like this."
Chris's voice sounded somewhat gritted. "I can't hold you much longer. I'll drop you."
I silently climbed down and stood on the couch, bringing us to eye level.
Chris snorted. "At least you're obedient."
I looked at him with pity, sighing wistfully. "Can't help it. You're so weak—I need to save your strength for critical moments."
Chris's face darkened completely. He asked me, word by word:
"Critical moments? What critical moments?"
I tilted my head with a smile, reached out to wrap my arms around his neck again, threw myself into his embrace, and gently pecked his lips.
"Like... like moments like this."
2
That was all I remembered.
Some people are alive, but they might as well be dead.
And what the hell happened after that kiss?
Can't even let a person die in peace!
I hate this!
Finally, after some self-encouragement, I waited until no one was outside and tiptoed to the door.
Carefully turning the handle, I was about to make my escape when a muscular arm suddenly blocked my path.
Above me came a man's lazy morning voice: "Sobered up?"
My scalp prickled. I didn't dare look at him directly.
"Y-yeah. I'll just, uh, get going. No need to see me out, no need..."
But Chris's arm blocking the door didn't move. Instead, his body shifted over, completely blocking the doorway.
He seemed to have just woken up. His usually ice-cold eyes now held a hint of sleepiness. Looking down at me with half-closed eyes, sunlight slanted across his face, golden rays outlining him like some divine being.
I stood there, almost mesmerized.
A trace of an ambiguous smile played on his lips as he leaned down and said in a low voice:
"Miss Lane, you seem to have forgotten something."
My brain blared an alarm, and I immediately snapped out of my daze.
"Last night—I don't remember anything from last night." I blushed, playing dumb to the end.
"So you kissed me and planned to just walk away like nothing happened?"
Chris stared at me with those penetrating eyes.
I looked at him dazedly. "Then... do you want me to take responsibility?"
The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. I shuffled a tiny step forward, looking up at him hopefully. "Can I... can I do that?"
He let out a short laugh, smirking.
"Nice try."
3
"Hahahaha!" Shelley Jensen burst into exaggerated laughter. "He really said that?"
I looked at her with utter disappointment, condemning her with my eyes.
This whole thing started because of her, and here she was, laughing at me.
Last night she'd broken up with someone and insisted I come out drinking with her. After getting drunk, she started talking about me.
She said I'd never been in a relationship all these years, and now that I finally had someone I was crushing on, I should bravely pursue love.
I was wasted too, and with her egging me on, I made that impulsive, ride-or-die move right then and there.
Everyone knows what happened after that.
"Now that you've kissed him and hugged him and exposed your true intentions, just go for it!" Shelley looked at me with gossip-hungry eyes. "Plus, you two have known each other forever. You have way more advantages than anyone else would."
I slid down, slumping on the couch, feeling somewhat depressed.
I first met Chris Stone at the debate team tryouts.
He was the debate team captain, two years ahead of me.
In that crowded lecture hall, the moment I walked in, I spotted him sitting at the judges' table.
He sat among the crowd yet possessed this distant, solitary quality. His profile was striking, with cold, dark eyes that held flickers of icy light.
I was instantly knocked off my feet by his looks.
Thank god for this mouth of mine—sharp since childhood. I made it onto the team and participated in competitions of all sizes with him.
I was the cross-examiner; he was the closing speaker. On the debate floor, I handled rapid-fire attacks while he always had my back.
We were perfectly in sync as partners.
Naturally, when he started his business, he invited me to join.
But I only realized I had feelings for him a month ago.
I'd heard that Chris had been single for too long, and his family had issued an ultimatum: he had to bring a girlfriend home before Thanksgiving.
I teased him about it on the spot, saying no wonder his family was pushing—after all these years, there wasn't a single woman around him. Of course they'd be anxious.
He'd been signing documents but suddenly looked up at me, rebutting seriously: "You're around me. Aren't you a woman?"
I froze, blinking as my heartbeat gradually quickened.
He seemed not to notice my reaction. He looked down, thinking for a moment, then looked back up at me with a self-deprecating smile. "Though I guess... you're the only one around me."
That instant, we briefly locked eyes.
He suddenly turned to look out the window, and my mind in chaos, I instinctively followed his gaze.
The clear afternoon, with its bright, warm sunlight. A few leaves were gently spiraling down. He smiled faintly, no longer wearing that cold expression he showed others. His voice was casual and relaxed.
He said: "Lane, our ninth autumn."
The ninth autumn since we'd met.
I looked at his profile, and for a moment, the person before me seemed to overlap with that cool, aloof boy from years ago.
My chest swelled with something struggling to break through the soil and sprout.
That night I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning for ages before finally understanding.
I'd fallen for him long ago.
4
It was precisely because we'd known each other so long that I kept second-guessing myself.
Wanting to get closer to him, yet afraid of getting closer.
Wanting to have him, yet afraid I'd lose even our friendship.
But even as I hesitated, I couldn't help replaying last night's scene when he carried me like a princess.
He'd lifted me so easily. His body was warm, and I could almost feel the solid chest muscles beneath his clothes...
"What are you grinning about?"
"Huh? Was I grinning?"
Shelley held up a mirror.
Great. My smile was just stretched from ear to ear.
"Look at yourself, you fool." Shelley said meaningfully, "If you don't make your move now and he ends up with someone else, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
Those words hit me right in the chest.
Looking at my flushed, dreamy face in the mirror, I clenched my fist!
"I've decided! I'm going after him!"
5
Want to grab dinner together? Too direct. Delete.
That new restaurant near your place looks good. Too roundabout. Delete.
I cordially invite you to dine with me this evening. Too pretentious. Delete.
I was going back and forth, deliberating, when suddenly my messages showed: Typing...
Chris was texting me too!
Excited and nervous, my hand trembled, and I accidentally sent the half-finished message I'd been typing!
I looked at it closely: I want to eat you.
But what I'd meant to type was I want to eat at that new restaurant near your place, want to come?
I frantically tried to unsend it.
I hit delete instead.
My hand froze. I froze too.
Chris replied instantly: ?
A second later, another message popped up: That's quite an appetite.
I wanted to punch a wall!
I quickly sent what I'd originally meant to say, then explained I'd accidentally sent a half-typed message.
He didn't respond. I flopped onto my pillow in frustration, feeling like I'd screwed up again.
Ding.
It was Chris!
I hurriedly opened the message.
Chris: That sounds reasonable enough.
My shoulders sagged. Of course he didn't believe me.
Yesterday I'd forced him to hold me and even kissed him. Today I'd sent such suggestive words.
He probably thought I was some kind of sex maniac.
Still feeling dejected, another ding sounded.
Chris: Come over tonight.
!!!
I immediately replied "okay" and then rushed out after making myself look gorgeous.
This time I didn't mess up—I knocked on the correct door.
When it opened, Chris was on the phone. He nodded at me in acknowledgment.
I was delighted to discover he was wearing a white suit, very formal.
Did he... did he take this date that seriously?
I was secretly pleased when he handed me a bag.
Wait—wasn't that mine?
It was what I'd left here last night!
So he'd called me over just to return my bag?
Thinking about how I'd spent three hours getting ready, I dejectedly took the bag, my enthusiasm deflated. "Thanks. You're busy, so I'll get going."
Behind me, the door clicked shut.
I stiffened for a moment but didn't turn around. I stormed off, fuming, internally complaining.
Didn't even let me in! Didn't even offer me water!
How rude!
Still mentally cursing, my arm was grabbed. I turned to see Chris looking at me in confusion. "Didn't you say you wanted to eat?"
"I already made a reservation." His handsome face was full of puzzlement. "You're not eating anymore?"
6
Case closed, people.
The formal wear was because he'd just finished a video conference.
Dinner was to discuss work.
An audit project in a neighboring city had been urgently initiated, requiring completion and a report within two weeks.
Though the client understood this was demanding, the compensation was genuinely generous.
My commission from this job would be substantial.
This taught me a lesson: single women have thriving careers.
Halfway through the meal, a server brought over some wine, asking if we'd like to open a bottle.
Before I could respond, Chris glanced at me with a half-smile and declined outright. "No need. She can't drink."
The server said graciously, "Sir is so considerate of his companion."
I made a vague sound of acknowledgment, replying, "Well, not exactly for that reason."
The server smiled shyly. "Um... why not then?"
My eyes lit up!
A kindred spirit! Those who know, know!
Unfortunately, Chris couldn't appreciate such wit. He methodically cut his steak, asking seriously, "Time's tight. We'll head there tonight. You okay with that?"
"Of course." I agreed readily. I was always decisive about work.
"After we eat, I'll drive you home. Pack your things and we'll go directly." Chris finished eating and elegantly wiped his mouth.
"Drive there? We won't arrive until midnight. It's Saturday—I'll have trouble finding a hotel."
Under the restaurant's crystal chandeliers, Chris's face was cool and refined, but his words made me boil over instantly.
"Stay at my place."
7
With all the business travel for audit work, plus many long-term clients in neighboring cities, Chris had simply bought an apartment there.
My jaw stayed dropped the entire way into the apartment.
This client's accounts were somewhat sensitive, so they only trusted Chris and me, their long-term consultants, to handle them.
Chris's thinking was simple: it was dangerous for a woman to stay alone in a hotel, and with the tight project timeline requiring intense overtime, staying together would be more efficient for completing the work.
I nodded calmly at the time, saying it made sense.
Internally, I was losing my mind with excitement!
I was going to live alone with him for two weeks! Who wouldn't be thrilled?
"Lane, why are you following me in here?"
The person ahead suddenly turned around.
I crashed right into Chris's chest.
The next second, I was pushed away.
Looking carefully, I realized