Chapter Seventy-Five: The Last Dance

Chapter Seventy-Five: The Last Dance

She thought he couldn't win in a fight? Was she joking? Aaron King had been a top fighter since middle school. And…if it wasn't for the fact that he suddenly wanted to see her so badly during the fight, he wouldn't have let his guard down and gotten ambushed. As he brooded over his frustration, Lydia Moore suddenly stood on her tiptoes, gently dabbing the blood from his wound with a handkerchief. "The wound isn't too deep, but be careful when you wash it," she advised softly, her movements delicate and careful. The light green handkerchief, embroidered with a lucky clover, was now tinged with blood. Aaron felt his back stiffen slightly, a shiver running through him.

Under the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp, beside the white sports car, a girl stood on her tiptoes, her touch gentle and her gaze focused. The boy leaned slightly towards her, his face flushed with an unnatural redness, his long lashes fluttering. Together, they created a picture of warmth and harmony, like a scene from a painting.

Aaron found that in this moment, even his breathing and heartbeat were erratic. Staring at her from this close, his mind and vision were filled with nothing but her delicate face and bright eyes. All sense of reason seemed to slip away. A faint smile curved on his lips. "Idiot," he murmured, his voice hoarse and enticing. Lydia looked at him in confusion, just as something warm and soft suddenly pressed against her lips. She stared at him in shock, unable to believe what was happening.

Without warning, Aaron King kissed her, branding her lips with a searing heat. His breath was hot, and the line of his neck was elegant and sensual. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, leaving only the two of them, locked in a kiss that made hearts race and faces flush.

The kiss wasn't long or passionate, but when Aaron pulled back, his heart was pounding with a sweetness that spread through his chest. Seeing her stunned expression, he couldn't resist leaning in to kiss her forehead. "That's my mark," he whispered tenderly, his voice both firm and impossibly gentle in the quiet of the night. "From now on, you belong only to me. I want you to be my girlfriend."

The feeling of liking someone was so unfamiliar to Aaron King. He didn't know if what he felt for her was true love, but he was certain that he was drawn to her, and that he would never let her go, no matter what happened.

The night draped over them, wrapping Lydia Moore's shock and Aaron King's bold confession in its embrace, while simultaneously ushering in a new chapter for them both. Two months ago, they hadn't even known each other existed, and neither could have imagined such an encounter, yet here they were, their fates intertwined in a connection that would only deepen with time.

The night wind scattered the cold stars across the sky, and the world grew quiet, with only the sound of the breeze and the gentle hum of the city in the background.

Around eleven in the morning, when most families were preparing lunch, the streets were quiet and almost empty. Inside the "Fairy Cake Shop," Lydia Moore stood behind the counter, mechanically washing dishes, though her thoughts were far from the task at hand. "That's my mark. From now on, you belong only to me. I want you to be my girlfriend." Aaron King's low, magnetic voice echoed in her mind. Lydia frowned, unable to understand why he had suddenly said something like that. Could it be that he really liked her? That didn't seem possible; she didn't believe she had that kind of charm.

Maybe it was just the alcohol talking? Perhaps by the time he woke up this morning, he would have forgotten everything that happened last night. Then she could just pretend it never happened, and they could continue being friends. As for that inexplicable stolen first kiss... "I'll just pretend I was bitten by a dog," she mumbled, biting her lower lip in resignation.

As the water from the tap continued to flow, threatening to overflow the sink, a hand reached out to turn it off just in time. Lydia snapped back to reality. "I'm sorry, Auntie, I—" She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't even noticed the water was about to spill over.

"It's okay, Lydia. You seemed like you were talking to yourself just now. Are you feeling unwell? Or did you not sleep well last night?" Auntie asked with concern. Lydia was usually very focused and careful in her work, so this was unlike her.

"No, it's nothing. I think I'm just a bit hungry since I skipped breakfast this morning. Don't worry, Auntie," Lydia replied with a reassuring smile. Just as she finished speaking, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She quickly dried her hands and answered it.

The screen flashed Aaron King's name repeatedly. Lydia's hand suddenly felt as though it were on fire, and her expression became complicated.

Seeing her hesitate to answer, Auntie asked curiously, "Lydia, aren't you going to pick up?"

Lydia hesitated for a moment longer before finally pressing the answer button. "Hello?"

"You haven't eaten yet, have you? I'm at the Laou Western Restaurant. Come over," Aaron's voice was as commanding as ever, but there was something different—less arrogant, more patient.

"But I'm a bit busy right now, and I promised to have lunch with Uncle and Auntie," Lydia tried to keep her voice steady, trying to sound as natural as possible.

"Idiot! What could be more important than your boyfriend?" he snapped. Then, silence fell on the other end of the line. Lydia didn't know what to say, and Aaron seemed to struggle too. After a long pause, he spoke again, "I want to eat the tiramisu you made. Bring it with you." With that, he hurriedly hung up, as if he were trying to hide his emotions. A small smile played on his lips.

Lydia slowly lowered the phone. It seemed that what happened last night wasn't because of the alcohol—he really wanted her to be his girlfriend. But how was she supposed to handle this? What was the best way to resolve the situation? Lydia's brow furrowed slightly.

Maybe it was best to clear things up sooner rather than later. Glancing at the chocolate-colored tiramisu in the display case, she made up her mind.

The Laou Western Restaurant was bathed in winter sunlight, its elegant atmosphere enhanced by the soft light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Inside, students dressed in fine clothes quietly enjoyed their meticulously prepared meals, occasionally sharing hushed conversations with their companions. Every movement reflected their privileged lifestyles.

As Lydia Moore entered, wearing a simple light green coat and carrying a cake, all eyes turned toward her in surprise. What was someone of her means doing in a place like this? From the look of her clothes, she certainly couldn't afford the steep prices at Laou. And even more intriguing was the fact that Aaron King was also dining here. Could there be a connection between them?