Upon realizing that my younger brother was the protagonist of a novel, my view of Peyton Horne completely changed.
Peyton was seventeen at the time, still in high school. He wore a blue school uniform, dropped his bag, and looked lazily relaxed:
"Abbey Horne, I'm back."
Ever since he started high school, Peyton stopped calling me 'sis' and always addressed me by my full name.
I wasn't happy about it, but with his height nearing 6 feet 2 inches, I didn't dare to push my luck too far.
Especially after learning that my brother was the novel's protagonist, blessed with extraordinary talent, incredible stamina, and tireless energy.
In the past, if Peyton didn't call me 'sis,' I'd rush over to ruffle his hair and mess with him. But now…
"Abbey, what's with that look?"
Peyton's tone was icy as he glanced up at me.
I pretended to focus on the TV and casually replied, "Nothing."
But I'll tell you what, the pet on TV sure is big...
"What are you laughing at?"
It was summer, and Peyton took off his jacket, revealing a white T-shirt underneath. His messy hair framed eyes that slightly slanted upwards as he glanced at the TV, then casually sat down beside me:
"What kind of pet is that?"
His comment caught me off guard, and I started coughing uncontrollably.
Peyton calmly reached out to pat my back, helping me catch my breath. I blinked, looked at the TV, and said, "This… I think it's a cockatoo."
"Mm."
He moved his hand away, crossed his arms, leaned back on the sofa, tilted his head slightly, and closed his eyes. His eyelashes were really long.
I glanced at his sharp, well-defined side profile. Peyton had skin so fair it practically glowed, and his features were incredibly delicate. To put it simply, he looked like a star.
What stood out the most was a small red mole on his Adam's apple, making him even more noticeable.
I cleared my throat, feeling uneasy as I sat on the sofa, my eyes fixed on the screen, but my mind had already drifted into the plot of the novel.
On Peyton's eighteenth birthday, he fell head over heels for the female lead, who was five years older than him, and his love for her became an intense, obsessive passion.
And I... I would become a part of their twisted play.
In the villa where only Peyton and I lived, torn clothes and crumpled tissues would appear...
Thinking about this made me inexplicably uncomfortable, so I grabbed my phone and prepared to head back to my room.
I hadn't taken more than a few steps when Peyton got up and grabbed my wrist.
Recalling those absurd plotlines, I couldn't help but snap at him, "What are you doing?"
The seventeen-year-old boy bent down, glanced up at me, and then lowered his head:
"Not going to pat my head today?"
His soft, fluffy hair glowed gently under the light, and thinking of something, I reached out and ruffled his hair like petting a dog. His hair stuck up in a few tufts after I messed it up.
Finally, I subconsciously patted his head, as if I were praising a well-behaved pet.
After I finished, Peyton straightened up, smirked, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, guiding me upstairs.
The boy carried a cool minty scent, and I faintly sensed something was off:
"Peyton, what are you doing?"
Peyton glanced at me sideways when he heard this, then pinched his earlobe and said, "Weren't you going back to your room? Let's go together."
Wait... according to the plot, every time before Peyton made it impossible for the female lead to get out of bed, he would pinch his earlobe...
But then again, it could just be an unconscious habit of his?
I had an indescribable feeling in my heart as I quickly returned to my room.
