Sometimes, life was like writing a novel—you never knew when an unintentional thread laid down one day would suddenly unravel into a gripping story.

Some people said it was all coincidence, but Arden believed it was more likely fate with divine intervention.

For a homebody like April, what happened in school usually wouldn't catch her attention. But if the male lead of a GV went streaking, she probably would have noticed even sooner.

A couple of days ago, Ryo, in an effort to awaken April's hidden "original sin," put in some extra energy and demanded a video from Arden. Of course, the footage had been edited—Ryo's scenes in a ballet dress were entirely erased, and Arden, being the enemy of all men, was blurred and pixelated. Even so, it was still an exciting short clip.

The fraternity's initiation event for freshmen varied slightly every year. Last year's was relatively tame. In short, freshmen would show up in bizarre outfits, chug alcohol, get groped by seniors, strip down, and then be tossed into the fountain in front of the main library. Afterward, they'd parade around the campus with a long balloon tied somewhere on their bodies, greeting the audience.

April, believing that good things should be shared, invited Sandra to watch the video with her. The more unconventional something was, the more exciting it seemed. People often had an inexplicable admiration for those who dared to do what they themselves wouldn't.

The video, filmed on a phone, was rather shaky. Yet, the contagious energy and passion of youth were undeniable—especially with a friend next to you, screaming along in excitement.

Unfortunately, the video was short, leaving them wanting more. The images from it lingered in Sandra's mind, resurfacing with even the slightest nudge from Arden.

Had Sandra known who the star of the photos on Arden's phone was, she might have felt a little less thrilled—these were the most crucial highlights, which had, of course, been ruthlessly deleted by Ryo from that video clip.

The phone screen wasn't large, but the person was unmistakable. Such a perfectly sculpted physique—like a plaster statue—was something Sandra couldn't forget, especially after revisiting it in her mind countless times.

The photos included long shots and close-ups. You know, those close-ups—the part of him that had once been deeply buried in her body. Even just flipping through the photos quickly left Sandra dumbfounded.

But Arden didn't seem to mind exposing such private content in front of a girl. He continued scrolling through the pictures while enthusiastically explaining them.

How could he not mind? He was clearly doing it on purpose—feigning casualness while carefully observing her reaction, gradually closing the distance between them.

Sandra was frozen. She could only feel how close Arden was as he held the phone, his breath brushing against her ear. Her heart was racing so fast that it felt like it might burst out of her chest.

Most woman had dreamed of a prince who could pin her against a wall and kiss her passionately, but having that happen all the time would turn passion into coercion. Sometimes, chasing a girl required patience. Women, especially those like Sandra, could have strong reverse psychology. Arden knew better than to be too direct or obvious with her.

His tactics couldn't be called outright sleazy. If he had shown Sandra the photos right after they parked the car, he'd likely already be lying outside, eating dirt. But through seemingly trivial conversations, he carefully dismantled Sandra's defenses layer by layer. By the time they were chatting comfortably, it was she who had excitedly brought up the fraternity and asked to see the photos. He had simply gone along with her request—he didn't force her. Even a saint couldn't convict him of wrongdoing.

The blush on Sandra's face was impossible to hide under the light of the phone screen. She didn't react too strongly—a good sign. The timing was just right.

When Arden reached a photo of himself staring seductively into the camera, he stopped. He lightly, almost accidentally, brushed his lips against her ear as if testing her boundaries.

No resistance.

He knew his prey was now blushing, her heart racing, her emotions stirred.

Arden put away his phone, gently pinched her chin with his fingers, and turned her face toward him. Her long lashes quivered helplessly, like a butterfly trapped in a net. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her eyelids, prompting her to close them. His lips traced a soft path down the bridge of her nose before finally capturing her cute little mouth.

Finally, he tasted the flavor he had yearned for. Now he understood why he had always thought of her as water. Unlike the sweetness or spiciness he had found in other women, her taste was uniquely hers—light, refreshing, natural, and pure. At first, it seemed almost flavorless, yet it left him hungering for more.

Arden deepened his kiss, enveloping her entire lips. He could feel the girl in his arms struggling to catch her breath. His hand slid into her blouse. His fingers circling her slender waist, gradually moving upward. He wanted to take the opportunity to soothe her rapidly rising and falling chest, but to his surprise, she grabbed his hand and stopped him.

Distracting her by teasing her tongue, he attempted to divert her attention. Yet, the hand that had grabbed his didn't falter an inch.

Helpless, Arden took her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to her fingertips before securing it with his other hand, which was firmly wrapped around her. Seizing the momentary lapse in her defense, he resumed his exploration—only to have her other hand quickly intervene, just as swift and resolute.

She was certainly vigilant. If it had been any other woman, she would have melted into his arms by now. After all, Arden took great pride in his exceptional kissing skills.

He couldn't help but regret not bringing a more spacious SUV. If he had, he could have laid her down on the backseat, pinned her hands above her head, and settled things once and for all.  

As he continued to kiss her, he briefly contemplated whether pulling her onto his lap and trapping her between himself and the steering wheel was worth the effort. Given her fiery temper, though, the chances of her cooperating seemed dangerously slim.

Teachers always taught us to focus and not act half-heartedly, or we would face the consequences.

Sandra, dazed and overwhelmed by his kiss, suddenly caught onto his momentary distraction and shoved him away without hesitation. Their eyes met, and Arden once again saw the fierce fighting spirit of a warrior blazing in her gaze. The spell was broken, and his prey was baring her little claws once more.

Arden didn't press further—perhaps the lingering psychological shadow of being thrown over her shoulder still had some effect on him.

The car's roof retracted slowly, allowing the salty sea breeze to flow in, carrying the calming sound of waves gently lapping against the shore. The cool air helped ease the heat surging through his veins. 

Pulled away from his fiery embrace, Sandra shivered as the ocean wind brushed against her skin, sending a chill through her body.

Arden took off his trench coat and casually tossed it over Sandra's head. "Here, put this on."

"Hey!" Sandra exclaimed. Her voice tinged with alarm as her vision was abruptly obscured.

Arden didn't take advantage of the moment. Instead, he propped his left arm against the steering wheel, resting his head on it as he watched her struggle to free herself from the oversized coat. Amusement flickered in his eyes—it was like watching a kitten tangled in a ball of yarn.

"Don't catch a cold," he said with a faint smile. "Put it on if you're feeling chilly."

But this kitten wasn't one to play coy. Rolling her eyes at him, Sandra clung to the last shred of composure and courage. Wrapping the coat tightly around herself, she steadied her breath, lifted her long legs and leapt over the door.

Arden didn't rush after her. Instead, he leisurely opened his door, stepping out as his lazy voice drifted toward her with the sea breeze, "Leaving already?"

Sandra's steps faltered, but she didn't look back.

With his hands tucked in his pockets, Arden strolled after her at a relaxed pace, kindly reminding her, "You're not planning to walk back to your place, are you? It's quite a distance from here."

Sandra responded by rolling up the sleeves and sticking her thumb out to hail an approaching car.

The driver didn't even hit the brakes—if anything, he might have sped up—zooming past her. Forced to step back to avoid the spray of gravel, Sandra muttered a string of curses under her breath, each one aimed at the driver's entire family tree.

"Are you afraid of me?" Arden asked.

"Who said I'm afraid of you?" Sandra shot back instinctively.

"Then why would you rather get into a stranger's car than stay with me for a moment?"

Sandra froze, caught off guard, the sharp retort she had ready slipping away into silence.

Arden leaned in, closing the space between them. His voice dipped into a low, teasing murmur near her ear. "Not every man who takes you to a hotel in the middle of the night is as good-looking as I am."

Sandra's heart skipped a beat, and blood rushed to her head, leaving her momentarily dizzy. She barely gathered her strength and warned him, "Do you want to be thrown down again?" 

Arden raised his hands in mock surrender, a crooked smile tugging at his lips as he took a deliberate step back. "Alright, alright."

Several cars passed Sandra without slowing, each one adding to her growing frustration.

Arden, standing a few paces behind, watched the scene with quiet amusement. Occasionally, he'd wave off slower drivers, signaling them to move along as if to say, Nothing to see here.

To anyone driving by, the pair likely appeared to be a couple in the middle of a quarrel—the woman wearing the man's oversized coat while stubbornly standing by the roadside. People tended to avoid getting involved in such situations, preferring to keep their distance.

Sandra soon realized her mistake. Arden's black trench coat might have offered warmth, but in the dim light, it blended into the night, making her less visible to passing cars. Her own light-colored coat would have been much easier to spot. She clenched her jaw, silently cursing her oversight.

Behind her, Arden observed her petite figure swaddled in his coat, a flicker of amused possessiveness sparking in his chest. It wasn't hard to see why the drivers misunderstood—it was an oddly endearing sight.

The tailored trench coat, made for his broader frame, engulfed Sandra. The oversized shoulders drooped awkwardly, as though the coat itself shared her exasperation. The image brought a smirk to Arden's lips, and he couldn't help but imagine her face mirroring that same weary look.

"She really is as hard to deal with as I expected," he thought.

Arden called out softly, "Sandra?"

Her grandmother's old warning surfaced in her mind: Never turn around if someone calls your name at night, or you risk losing your soul.

Ignoring him, Sandra kept her focus forward.

Unfazed by her silence, Arden tried again, this time with a trace of wounded charm in his voice. "Sandra, why are you in such a hurry to leave? I thought you liked me." His tone dipped, teasing yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. "After all, you didn't seem so hesitant when I kissed you."

Sandra raised her hand and wordlessly extended her middle finger in his direction. Then, as if nothing had happened, she continued trying to hail a car.

Watching her rigid back, Arden let out a soft sigh, his voice dipping into a tone of wistful melancholy. "Sandra, did you see the number I left you that night? I've been waiting for your call ever since."

Sandra said nothing, but the stillness in her posture told him she was listening.

"I'll never forget that night we spent together," Arden continued, his words deliberate. "I know I shouldn't bring it up—you probably want to forget—but I couldn't. You've been on my mind ever since." It wasn't entirely a lie. She had crossed his thoughts more often than he cared to admit, even during fleeting moments with other women.

He paused, then added, his voice softer, almost pleading, "Don't you think it's fate that we met again?"

Sandra didn't turn to face him, but her hand dropped to her side, and she stopped waving at passing cars.

"I'm sorry for losing control earlier," Arden said gently, his tone laced with sincerity. "I understand if you want to leave. But it's late, and hitchhiking like this is too dangerous. Let me take you home."

After all, the tools of his trade were ready, courtesy of Ryo. By the time they reached her place, the odds would likely be in his favor. A soft bed was far more conducive to his plans than a cramped car seat.

When Sandra finally turned around, the man behind her looked almost unrecognizable. Gone was the mischievous grin—now replaced with an expression as pitiful as an abandoned puppy. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he'd been swapped out when she wasn't looking.

Raising a hand in a solemn gesture, Arden vowed, "If you don't want to, I won't force you. I promise I'll take you home safely."

Whether her home would remain safe afterward... well, that would depend entirely on him.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Merry Christmas 🎄 🎄 🎄!!!

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