Chapter 1
**Title:** The Days Pretending to Be a Straight Guy for the Heartthrob **Author:** Xihe Qingling **Synopsis:** At fifteen, Lydia Hawthorne discovered he was gay—head over heels for a handsome guy! Lydia found himself obsessively watching the guy’s social media, following his every move, living a fanboy fantasy in secret. The unlucky part? The guy he liked was a straight player who swapped girlfriends as casually as changing clothes. Years later, Lydia and the object of his affections both enrolled in the same university and became good friends. In a bid to avoid scaring his crush away, Lydia suppressed his true self and artificially transformed into an utterly convincing "straight dude." Enter Frederick Woodbridge, a social butterfly with striking looks. To maintain his charming playboy image, he hides the fact that he’s gay, inundating himself with fake girlfriends, successfully crafting the persona of a heartthrob. Then, one day, Frederick meets his true love. The individual is clean-cut, reserved, and exudes an air of aloofness—just like the ideal dream he has always envisioned. But there’s one catch: this person also strikes him as a total "straight guy"... In short, this is a romantic comedy about two awkward gay guys pretending to be straight while trying to get each other’s hearts. **Characters:** - **Lydia Hawthorne ():** The complex lead character, struggling to balance his true self with his efforts to impress his crush. - **Frederick Woodbridge ():** The charming heartthrob who’s hiding his true orientation under layers of deception. - **Jessica Winters ():** A key friend who likely adds complications to Lydia and Frederick's lives. - **Quentin Maple ():** Another character whose relationship with the main duo plays a pivotal role. - **Lady Margaret Maple ():** Frederick’s mother, representing traditional values and societal pressures. **Locations:** - **Harmonia Academy ():** The prestigious university where the story unfolds. - **The Commons ():** A popular campus hangout spot for students. - **The Library of Knowledge ():** The place where many secrets will unfold. - **Chamber 412 (412):** Lydia's dorm room, a sanctuary for his thoughts and feelings. - **The Great Hall of Revelry ():** A venue for campus events, filled with laughter and drama. **Story Excerpt:** Lydia sat in his dorm room, surrounded by textbooks that did little to capture his attention. The blaring sun outside caught his eye as he stared at his phone, scrolling through Frederick’s latest post—another picture of him with yet another flirtatious girlfriend. The ache in his chest flared up like a candle fighting against the wind. "What a smug jerk," he muttered under his breath, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Frederick was everything: charming, charismatic, and completely out of reach. Why was he so drawn to someone who couldn’t return his feelings? And therein lay the problem—he couldn't be himself around Frederick. His friendship meant too much to risk revealing his true nature. With a sigh, Lydia buried his face in his pillow. If only he could manage to keep up this charade a little longer without getting caught. Across campus, Frederick was in a whole other world. "If I keep this up, no one will ever suspect that I'm not the 'perfect' guy everyone thinks I am," he said to himself, shaking off the doubt. He had mastered the art of pretending—a smooth talker who spun stories to charm everyone, including himself. But when Frederick caught sight of Lydia in the library, a warmth spread through him, something he'd never felt around the typical flings. As he approached, he was met with an unexpected spark of connection. And yet, Lydia looked so... Straight? The tension was palpable. Secrets weighed on both boys’ hearts heavier than textbooks. And thus began their surprisingly intricate dance of pretense, love, and self-discovery, where each step drew them closer to the truth—and to each other. Their story would reveal just how twisted the line between love and friendship could become, especially when neither dared to admit what lay beneath the surface. As the seasons changed, Lydia and Frederick would learn that sometimes, the facade we build can create an impenetrable wall between our hearts and the true warmth of love. **End of Excerpt**
Chapter 2
Prologue "Hey, why don't you be my friend, Sir?" Lydia Hawthorne could hardly believe her ears when she heard that question from the person in front of her. It was someone she had had a crush on for years—Frederick Woodbridge. At that moment, he had a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips, revealing a hint of flirtation in those deep, penetrating eyes that held her gaze. *** Chapter 1: First Meeting Lydia Hawthorne first met Frederick Woodbridge during the summer after his elementary school graduation. That summer was scorching, the sun blazing high in the sky. Lydia found herself taking the subway alone to the local music academy for her amateur piano level 8 examination. By the time she arrived, she was soaked in sweat. After entering the waiting room, Lydia settled into a corner seat and flipped through her sheet music, mentally revisiting the key techniques that would be tested, especially the challenging "Etude No. 21" by Cramer. This particular piece featured a brisk tempo, focusing on the strength of her right hand's fingers three, four, and five—the very fingers Lydia struggled with most. She often stumbled during the finger exercises, so she gently tapped her fingers on the table, trying to practice discreetly. Just then, a light sound interrupted her concentration as a boy around her age sat down beside her. He was impeccably dressed in a fine black performance outfit, cinched at the waist with a sleek vest. His neatly styled dark hair complemented his porcelain-like skin. Although still young, his small face hinted at the handsome features he would fully grow into. With naturally cheerful eyes, he seemed destined to be the center of attention in mere years. Lydia was taken aback, staring at him for a couple of seconds, having never encountered someone so strikingly beautiful. A thrill of nerves washed over her. “Hey,” he said with a warm smile, “What’s your name?” There was a pleasant scent surrounding him, light and fragrant, though Lydia couldn’t tell if it emanated from his clothes or hair. Feeling embarrassed in her sweat-drenched T-shirt, Lydia instinctively leaned slightly away, worried about making him uncomfortable. To her surprise, he leaned in a little closer, introducing himself eagerly, “I’m Frederick Woodbridge.” “I’m Lydia Hawthorne.” She replied softly. Frederick beamed at her, his eyes lighting up as he continued, “Wow! How old are you?” His cat-like eyes scanned the waiting room before returning to her. “I see you're about my age. Did you just graduate from elementary school?” Usually reserved in front of others, Lydia found it hard to believe how comfortable he was—he acted as if they were old friends just meeting again, making her feel disarmed and open. “Um... I did. I just graduated this year.” Lydia managed to stammer out. Frederick's enthusiasm was infectious. “Wow, me too! Which elementary school did you go to? Where are you going for junior high? How long have you been learning piano?” Lydia felt overwhelmed by his rapid-fire questions, unsure which to answer first. Finally gathering her thoughts, she mentioned her elementary school, the junior high she would attend, and added, “I started learning piano in fifth grade. It’s been five years now.” Starting piano in fifth grade wasn’t too early, but many kids began their foundational training in pre-school and managed to finish all ten grades by the end of elementary school. Frederick shared details about his school, and Lydia had never heard of it. “Where’s that?” she asked, genuinely curious.
Chapter 3
"Is it any good?" Frederick Woodbridge scratched his head, contemplating. "It's a private school, and not many kids go there. I’m not sure how good it is since I haven’t been to any other school, but Margaret Maple says it’s the best we have in our city. She doesn’t want me to go abroad yet." Lydia Hawthorne paused, her thoughts racing. The idea of going abroad felt distant and almost unreal for someone her age, and in that moment, she felt a palpable gap between herself and Frederick Woodbridge. Frederick continued animatedly, sharing amusing stories from school – tales of a boastful music teacher, the plethora of extracurricular activities, and the occasional outdoor lessons. Lydia couldn't help but feel envious. This school sounded much more exciting than their elementary school. After chatting for a bit, Frederick's attention shifted to the sheet music for his upcoming piano exam, which he casually flipped through. "Wow, this is all torn up. You must play really well, right?" Lydia felt a twinge of embarrassment. "Not really. Just average." Frederick raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Come on, stop being so modest." It wasn’t modesty; it was a hard truth. His piano teacher often remarked about Lydia's lack of talent, but the teacher also understood that Lydia was learning for practical reasons and didn't push him too hard. "What piece are you working on?" Frederick asked, glancing through the tattered pages. He quickly deduced, "I'll guess it’s Schubert, the same as mine." As Frederick browsed through his music, Lydia found her eyes studying his hands. Piano players often unconsciously compare their hands to those of others, and for Lydia, who had a slightly shorter pinky, her inferiority complex magnified by her differences was ever-present. Frederick's hands were lovely; even at just over a decade old, they were already long and graceful. If his piano teacher saw them, she’d undoubtedly exclaim, "What a natural pianist!" "Hey, do you plan to audition for a music conservatory later?" Frederick asked casually. Lydia’s train of thought was disrupted, and without hesitation, she replied, "No, I really don’t want to." Music conservatory? She would rather face a den of dragons. Starting from the fifth grade, Lydia never enjoyed a single stress-free summer. Every July and August found her at home, endlessly repeating tedious pieces for her piano exams. After five years of this monotonous practice, any spark of enthusiasm she once had for the piano was extinguished. Now, it was all about completing the required exams and never touching the piano again. Frederick looked a bit surprised. "Then why on earth do you play?" Before Lydia could answer, Frederick seemed to catch on and answered for himself. "I get it; you do it just for fun. In that case, you shouldn’t bother with the exams; they’re so boring." Lydia sighed in resignation. "Actually, it's for extra credit for my high school entrance exams." Frederick's confusion deepened. "Extra credit?" Lydia briefly explained, but Frederick seemed unimpressed. "Oh, I see. But what's the point in that?" "There really isn't much point…," Lydia admitted, not wanting to inflate her own dissatisfaction. Yet for some reason, looking at the 'well put together' Frederick made her feel embarrassed for admitting her reasons. He looked so formal, surely he must be so different from her... Lydia cast a glance at Frederick, the question escaping her lips before she could catch herself. "Aren't you hot dressed like that?"
Chapter 4
Frederick Woodbridge adjusted his bow tie, a strained smile creeping across his face. "Believe me, I’d rather not wear this either, but my teacher insists that every performance should be treated as a formal event. It’s all about respect... Ugh, this heat is unbearable." Oddly enough, while Frederick complained about the heat, his face showed no sign of sweat, perfectly dry as he spoke. "Number seven, Axel Fairchild," came the robotic voice of the staff from the door. "Next up, number eight, Lydia Hawthorne, please prepare." Lydia's heart raced as she realized it was almost her turn. "It’s my turn soon," she murmured, losing interest in the conversation with Frederick. Frederick propped his chin on one hand, looking at her with a casual air. "You’re about to go onstage. Stop overthinking it. Relax; your teacher won’t bite." Lydia couldn’t find comfort in his words. After a brief moment, her anxiety made her feel the urgent need to use the restroom. "Could you please watch my sheet music for me? I’ll be right back," she said hurriedly. Time seemed to fly, and before she knew it, a good ten minutes had passed. Upon her return, Frederick grinned and handed her the sheet music. "Break a leg!" "Thanks, Mistress Margaret," Lydia replied with a nervous nod. As she took her seat for the next part of the audition, she played Kramer's "Etude No. 21," stumbling twice but recovering well with the following pieces. Schubert's "Impromptu," in particular, felt fluid and familiar under her fingers. She exhaled a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the audition room, contemplating whether she should keep Frederick company for a while. The line of candidates behind her wasn’t long, and she had no idea how far back he was in line. However, as she approached the waiting area, a staff member intercepted her. "Excuse me, you’ve already completed your audition, right?" the employee said softly. Lydia pointed towards the waiting area but stammered, "I... I’m just waiting for someone." "The waiting area is outside," the staff replied coldly. Defeated, Lydia hugged her sheet music close and left the audition room. Outside, the sun blazed intensely, and she found refuge in a shaded spot, waiting for half an hour while Frederick seemed to take forever to exit. Her gaze wandered across the street to a sleek black car parked nearby, its surface glimmering in the sunlight. Two hours ago, a memory replayed in her mind—arriving at the music academy, surrounded by other auditioning students. She had been clutching her almost-worn-out sheet music, checking the signs to find her audition room when a black car had zoomed past. Amid the bustling crowd, she remembered glancing in that direction and noticing a gentleman dressed in formal attire. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it. Now, seeing the car again minutes later, Lady Margaret and the gentleman's sudden appearance replayed in her mind; that man must have been Frederick. After all, who else would wear formal attire on such a hot day? No one—not even Lady Eleanor herself. "Wow, a Bentley!" a voice nearby interrupted her thoughts. A group of parents accompanying students walked past, one of them pointing at the luxurious car, exclaiming, "That must be the ride for the auditioners!" "Absolutely," another parent chimed in, "I just saw it. Rich kids really know how to prioritize their education. Our kids can’t fall behind." One child, puzzled, looked up and asked, "Margaret Maple, are we poor?" “Being poor means we’ll find a way, even if it means selling everything to make sure you get an education. You’re studying hard right now, and that’s the best gift you can give us, you understand?”
Chapter 5
Lydia Hawthorne sighed softly, her gaze drifting longingly toward the sleek car parked nearby, a hint of envy in her eyes. The sweltering heat had quickly drained Lydia’s patience, leaving her feeling inexplicably down. Even when Frederick Woodbridge eventually showed up, what would it matter? They’d probably just exchange obligatory small talk about their exams. He was from a wealthy family, after all—once they parted ways today, there was a good chance they wouldn’t cross paths again. With these thoughts swirling in her head, Lydia shook them off, turning away to leave. At dinner that evening, Lydia shared her exam results with her parents. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “Mom, Dad, what’s a ‘Bentley’?” Lady Eloise Hawthorne placed a piece of meat onto Lydia’s plate and replied, “It’s a luxury car brand… Where did you hear that?” Lydia took a bite of rice and said, “There’s a kid in my exam group who showed up in a Bentley.” Lord Harold Hawthorne adjusted his glasses, speaking calmly. “Oh, their family must be quite wealthy. Bentleys aren’t exactly everyday cars.” Nowadays, just owning a car was a sign of affluence, let alone something as lavish as a Bentley. “Really?” Lydia said thoughtfully. “He goes to ‘The Guild of Harmony.’ Do you know that school?” Lady Eloise and Lord Harold exchanged glances. The Guild of Harmony was a prestigious private school in town known for sending students to elite universities abroad; they’d certainly heard of it. Lady Eloise turned back to Lydia. “I’ve heard their tuition is over a hundred thousand dollars a year—pretty much half our annual income. Even if you wanted to go, we could never afford it.” Lydia frowned, thinking, “I never said I wanted to go.” Then Lord Harold added, “Sweetheart, the distribution of resources in society isn’t fair. Some people are born into advantage, while others face hardships. We may not have as much, but we certainly have more than some. You’re doing great academically, and your mom and I have supported you with piano lessons. There’s no need to feel inferior…” The more she listened, the more confused Lydia became. What was this conversation about? Who said she felt inferior? But Lord Harold’s words continued on, a monotonous drone in her ears. Growing impatient, Lydia finished her meal, set her utensils down abruptly, and declared, “I’m going to my room.” Once the door was closed behind her, Lydia flopped onto her bed, the initial frustration ebbing away as she recalled Frederick Woodbridge’s smile from earlier. She thought of the way he had leaned in, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin as he teased, “Stop being so modest.” She remembered the way his long lashes curled as he examined a sheet of music, his beautiful hands effortlessly gliding across the page; all of it left an imprint on her memory. There was also that subtle yet intoxicating scent he carried, and an undeniable air of confidence about him that made Lydia feel small—yet deeply drawn to him at the same time. After all, throughout her life, she had never encountered anyone like Frederick. Her vocabulary felt limited to a solitary word: “cool.” In comparison, she and her friends felt like a bunch of charcoal briquettes. Now, Lydia understood where this sense of disparity came from. It stemmed from the way patrons at the music academy regarded her, from Lord Harold’s condescending tone. At just thirteen, she shouldn’t have to contemplate the complexities of social class, but the reality struck hard, making her see that she and Frederick Woodbridge might as well belong to different realms. Lydia blinked, discomfort stirring within her alongside a sense of defiance. Did the absence of a car and the inability to afford private school truly mean she couldn’t be friends with Frederick? Why should it? As the cold air from her room’s air conditioning washed over her, Lydia felt as though a heavy stone sat on her chest. Indulging this bit of melancholy, her mother, Lady Margaret Maple, entered with a small platter of fruit in hand. Seeing her son sprawled on the bed, she assumed he was still sulking. With a gentle sigh, she placed the fruit on the desk and said softly, “Sweetheart, don’t overthink this. Take a couple of days to rest after your exams, and when you’re ready, start looking at your new textbooks so you can keep your grades up in middle school. Trust in yourself—you’ll do just as well as any kid from those fancy families.” Lydia, still a bit lost, sensed something off about her mother’s words, yet part of her thought they held a sliver of truth. She responded quietly, sitting up and glancing at the cluttered sheet music on her desk, deciding to tuck them beneath the piano bench. Truth be told, she regretted not waiting a little longer to say goodbye to Frederick in the evening. But now, it felt unnecessary—leaving when she did had been the right choice. Little did she realize, her desire for friendship had slowly morphed into a competitive drive. Months later, Lydia received her Level Eight certification in piano, and that exam music was never played again. It wasn’t until a year later, after passing her amateur Grade Ten piano exam, that she stumbled across that crumpled Level Eight book while tidying up her sheet music. Flipping through, she was surprised to find a faint pencil inscription on the last page of Schubert’s “Impromptu”— “Here’s my WeChat ID: 6868xxx, add me when you get home. —Frederick Woodbridge.”
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