Part 2The Secret Diary of My Obsessive Crush

Julian rarely spoke at school.

Relying on his outstandingly handsome looks and heaven-defying grades, he became the secret crush of many girls.

In the girls' dorm night chats, his name always came up.

Even the beautiful and tall dorm leader would be extremely excited just because Julian patted her shoulder during roll call.

I had almost no contact with him.

The only interaction was because of a physics problem.

Only he in the whole class knew how to solve that finale question.

I mustered up the courage to ask him.

I saw his hands were slender and fair, knuckles distinct, holding a pen and writing quickly on the paper.

I was momentarily flustered, and my just-washed, not-yet-dry hair accidentally touched him.

He shook it off with a hint of disgust.

This directly poked my inferiority complex.

Since then, I never proactively asked him questions again.

His helpfulness this time was indeed unexpected.

When I stepped into his house for the first time carrying my schoolbag, it felt like entering a castle.

His villa was magnificent, with cold air everywhere.

"Monitor, where are your parents?"

Julian threw his bag aside, opened the fridge, and tossed me an ice cream.

He unwrapped a popsicle for himself: "They went abroad."

"So you live alone?"

"There's a helper."

He went upstairs as he spoke.

I wasn't familiar with the environment, so I could only follow his footsteps.

After entering the room, he pulled out a desk chair: "You study here."

"What about you?"

"I'll lie on the bed and play games."

With that, he took out a game console and half-lay on the bed.

I felt a bit embarrassed, feeling like I was occupying the magpie's nest: "Monitor, I'll go write outside. There's AC outside too."

He held the popsicle in his mouth, controlling the game, and said to me nonchalantly: "The AC outside needs to be turned off to save electricity."

Makes sense, money doesn't grow on trees for anyone.

I spread out my homework, ready to study, when Julian's muffled voice came from behind: "Eat the ice cream first, or it'll melt."

So polite.

I was flattered for a moment, opened the ice cream, and licked it bit by bit with the tip of my tongue like treating a treasure, afraid of missing any sweetness.