Sensing someone approaching, Grace Bennett lazily pulled his legs back.

Two seconds later, the person stopped in front of his desk.

"Miss Bennett." Brian Brooks's voice fell from above, his tone cold, no different from when Grace Bennett had heard him smoking.

The game was at a critical moment, just three hundred points away from breaking the record.

Grace Bennett stared intently at his phone screen, ignoring him.

About half a minute later, realizing the person was still standing in front of his desk, Grace Bennett frowned and habitually tossed out, "I'm not handing in my homework."

Every time someone in class talked to him, eight or nine times out of ten it was to urge him about homework.

"I'm not collecting homework."

"Then what do you want?"

Brian Brooks stared at the crown of his head in silence for a moment, then took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it over with one hand.

The moment the thing was extended, Grace Bennett reflexively looked up.

Grace Bennett thought he might have been distracted for just a second—he didn't even see what that thing was before he quickly looked back at his game—

And then he watched as the cosmic super invincible giant snake he'd painstakingly built for over ten minutes crashed head-on into a wall. Game over.

Only 77 points away from the high score.

Damn it.

Grace Bennett threw his phone on the desk and stood up, unable to take it anymore: "Are you looking for a beating? Can't you fucking see I'm busy?"

He glanced at the pink envelope Brian Brooks was handing over, then looked up and demanded, "What does this mean? A challenge letter..."

?

Wait a second?

What color is that envelope?

Grace Bennett's voice stalled. Still holding onto that aggressive energy, he lowered his head and took a careful look.

Brian Brooks's fingers were long and slender, wrist bones prominent, nails neatly trimmed. At this moment, he was holding a familiar pink envelope sealed with a heart.

"Miss Bennett."

Grace Bennett stiffly lifted his head.

Brian Brooks, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, pressed the letter onto the desk and pushed it forward: "Please accept my love letter."

Chapter 6

"......"

A dead silence.

A cool breeze lifted the curtains, and the phone tossed on the desk buzzed twice more, finally dragging Grace Bennett out of his shock.

He stared at Brian Brooks for a long time.

Brian Brooks's expression was utterly calm. If it weren't for that stupid love letter still pinned under his finger, Grace Bennett would have thought he'd imagined the whole thing.

They stood there in wordless stalemate for a while. Grace Bennett's fists clenched and relaxed, over and over, before he finally sat back down.

The phone was making his head ache, so he silenced it before finding his voice: "...Are you sick? I'm a guy."

Brian Brooks left the letter on the desk and stood up straight: "I know."

"You know and you still..." Grace Bennett paused. "Are you gay?"

Brian Brooks lowered his eyes and was silent for a moment, then a cold sound came from his throat: "Yeah."

"......"

Brian Brooks asked, "Do you hate gay people?"

"...Not really," Grace Bennett finally replied after a while. He looked out the window and said quickly, "But I'm not. I like girls."

"Do you have a girl you like?"

It was the first time Grace Bennett had been confessed to by a guy, and his mind was a bit blank. He blurted out, "No."

As soon as he said it, he snapped back to his senses, about to say what does that have to do with you—

"Then how do you know you like girls?"

"...?"

What kind of bullshit logic is that?

"Anyway, I'm not gay, and there's no way I'd date you..." The last two words Grace Bennett couldn't even say out loud—it was just too damn weird.

He grabbed the love letter that had been lying on the desk for ages and, as if holding a bomb, thrust it at Brian Brooks, "This, take it back. Now."

Brian Brooks didn't take it.

Grace Bennett held the prickly letter for about ten seconds, feeling like an idiot. "Are you taking it or not? If not, I'll tear it up."

Brian Brooks stared at his earlobe for a while, then said, "Go ahead and tear it up."

Anyway, this version was full of corrections and he wasn't very satisfied with it.

Grace Bennett took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to hit someone, and lowered his head to look for Brian Brooks's pocket, wanting to stuff the thing back—

"Grace Bennett!" A familiar loud voice echoed down the entire third-floor hallway.

Grace Bennett hadn't even touched Brian Brooks's clothes when his hand jerked at the sound, freezing in midair.

Seeing the figure outside about to enter, Grace Bennett quickly snatched the letter back and stuffed it into his own pocket in a panic.

At the same time, Anna Walker came in from outside: "Grace Bennett, why aren't you replying to my messages—"

Seeing what was going on inside, Anna Walker was stunned. "What are you doing?"

"Why are you back again?" Grace Bennett turned his head, asking irritably.

"I left my homework in the classroom. On my way back I saw Fat Tiger heading to the bathroom, so I thought I'd ask you to grab it for me and make a quick getaway..." Anna Walker stared at him for a moment, then asked in shock, "Why are your ears so red?"

"?!" Grace Bennett covered his ears and frowned. "You're seeing things."

"Really!" Anna Walker suddenly remembered the scene he saw when he came in—the two of them with strange expressions, standing close, looking like they were about to fight—

He looked at Brian Brooks, and asked in disbelief, "Did you twist my bro's ear?"