Challenge: Kiss your best bro and see how he reacts. I waited until Steven was distracted by his phone, then I pounced. I climbed onto his lap, grabbed his tie, and planted a kiss on him. He froze, staring at me in total disbelief, his hand covering his lips. Suddenly, we heard a high-pitched scream from a phone: “Steven’s mom! Come quick! It’s happening for real!” Wait… what? If I could turn back time, I’d choose to go back 24 hours. If not, I’d rather just vanish into oblivion. WHY DID I DO THIS?! As a content creator, chasing trends is part of the job. You’ve got to ride the wave of what’s popular to get those views. While scrolling through short videos for ideas, I came across a new viral trend: “Surprise your best friend with a kiss and capture the shock on his face!” I slammed my hand on my desk. This is it! The perfect idea! How convenient that I already had a best friend living under the same roof. Steven and I practically grew up as brothers. Our moms were best friends, so we’d been stuck together since childhood. Apart from going to college in different cities, we were inseparable. After graduation, Steven started working at his family’s company, while I became a full-time video creator. My mom called it “messing around at home like a hyperactive monkey.” Eventually, she got sick of me “goofing off” and packed up my stuff. She sent me to live with Steven so I could “learn a thing or two.” Learn what, exactly? His strict routine? His obsession with working out? How to live like a monk? The guy’s never even had a girlfriend! If I lived like Steven, my life would be unbearable. He doesn’t eat fried chicken, drink beer, or touch barbecue. Honestly, I feel bad for whatever poor girl ends up with him. That evening, Steven came home from work, still in his suit, and collapsed onto the couch with his phone. He looked so focused on whatever he was watching, he didn’t even notice me sneaking up. I’d already hidden my phone on the TV stand to record the whole thing. Grinning mischievously, I tiptoed over to him. When the moment was right, I jumped onto his lap, grabbed his tie, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. But he turned his head at the worst possible moment. Our lips met. We both froze. Then, from my phone came the unmistakable sound of my mom’s excited scream: “Steven’s mom! Come quick! It’s real! It’s happening!” I turned my head like a rusty machine, and there it was—the phone screen showing a live video call with my mom. Before I could process what was happening, Steven’s mom appeared in the background, wearing a face mask. She looked just as shocked as my mom. “Oh my God! You two… when did this happen?!” I turned to Steven, silently begging him to explain. But instead of helping, he leaned back on the couch, smirking as he watched me squirm under their interrogation. I grabbed his tie again, pulling him closer. “Say something! Explain! Now!” Steven just raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly, refusing to say a word. Meanwhile, the moms were losing their minds. My mom shrieked, “I can’t believe it! My little Tyler is so bold—does this mean he’s the dominant one?” Steven’s mom immediately protested. “No way! Steven’s taller, stronger, and more mature. He’s definitely the dominant one. Plus, he could pick Tyler up—imagine that!” My mom nodded enthusiastically. “You’re right! Being picked up is so romantic. Oh, this is giving me so many ideas—I could draw at least twenty illustrations from this!” Steven’s mom giggled. “Not to mention Tyler’s smaller frame, tiny waist, and soft legs. He’d look amazing in a dress, being held by Steven. Don’t you think?” “Absolutely! Steven in a dress wouldn’t have the same effect. Tyler’s definitely better for that.” …Excuse me?! Mom, are you even trying to defend me? Do you realize what you’re saying? I’m a manly man, okay?! I could totally be the dominant one! But a dress? Being picked up? I sat there, frozen, still gripping Steven’s tie, as their words echoed in my head. Steven finally sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. He glared at me, then growled, “Handle your family.” Before I could react, he wrapped an arm around my waist and ended the call with his free hand. Of course, the last thing we heard from the video call was both moms screaming, “IT’S HAPPENING!” I’m dead. Just bury me now. In that moment, I made peace with my fate. No need to save me, I’m fine being dead, thanks. 2 The thought of everyone finding out what happened between Steven and me sent a cold shiver down my spine. “Steven, if I jump out the window, do you think I’d die on the spot?” Steven glanced at me with zero emotion. “It’s the first floor. Even if you jump off the roof, you’d barely sprain an ankle.” Frustrated, I tugged on his tie like a madman. That’s when he slapped me on the butt—yes, the butt. We both froze. Then, in a dangerously calm voice, Steven said, “How long are you planning to sit on my lap?” I scrambled off him immediately, only to realize I was still holding onto his tie. I let go like it was burning me. Steven leaned back on the couch, clearly annoyed. Still in his work suit, tie slightly loosened, he tapped his fingers impatiently on his knee. His sharp gaze flicked to me, brows furrowed in irritation. Meanwhile, I sat on the carpet like a scolded puppy—wait, no, like a dignified person—waiting for him to fix the mess I’d created. “I told my mom I was filming a video, but she doesn’t believe me,” I said. My credibility with my mom was already in the negatives. She didn’t even bother replying to my texts. “Can’t you explain to your mom?” I added, trying to sound pitiful. “You know how my mom treats me. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m even her biological child.” Steven sighed, pulled out his phone, and typed: “Tyler was filming a video.” A moment later, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening, then tossed the phone onto the couch. On the screen was his mom’s reply: “Oh, roleplay? Filming is fine, just remember to keep it private. Don’t worry, your Aunt Lisa and I fully support you!” Steven’s glare could’ve frozen the sun. I sat there trembling on the carpet, trying to come up with a solution. “What if… you tell your mom you dumped me? That way, you save face, and we both get out of this mess. Plus, I can move back home.” The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. Steven let out a cold laugh. “Why don’t you tell your mom I dumped you? I don’t care about saving face.” I froze. If I told my mom Steven dumped me, she’d call me 80 times a day to yell at me. A shiver ran down my spine. No way. Too terrifying. Desperate, I scooted over on the carpet until I was at Steven’s feet, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. I grabbed his hand. “Steven, please! Help me out!” When we were kids, I had a round face with chubby cheeks and dimples that made me look adorable. Any time I got into trouble, I’d use this same pitiful look to get Steven to take the blame for me. And it worked—99 out of 100 times, he’d cover for me. But it had been years since I’d tried this trick. Would it still work? Steven stared at me with disdain for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, reached out, and pinched my cheek hard. “Fine. Just let it blow over. It’ll die down eventually.” Would it, though? I wasn’t so sure. But seeing the storm brewing on Steven’s face, I decided to keep my doubts to myself. I liked being alive, thanks. The video was filmed, the trend was followed, and I held the key to going viral. But I couldn’t bring myself to post it. Still, staring at my dwindling follower count and my creative block, I knew I had no choice. I edited the video, cutting out all the embarrassing parts, like my mom insisting Steven was the dominant one. After an hour and a half of careful trimming, the video was ready. Of course, I blurred Steven’s face. With trembling hands, I uploaded it. The next morning, I woke up and immediately checked my account. The notification count read 99+. My heart raced. Rolling around my bed in excitement, I clutched my phone like it was a winning lottery ticket. I wanted to run downstairs in my boxers and do a victory lap around the block. Then I opened the comments section. “OMG, sunshine puppy meets stoic alpha? This is the pairing of the century!” “Did you see how he grabbed the smaller guy’s waist? His hands almost wrapped all the way around! What kind of god-tier waist is that?!” Huh?! I felt my toes curl in embarrassment. What were these girls even watching?! “Am I the only one who’s a voice addict? When the alpha said ‘handle your family,’ I legit started drooling.” “Uh… just wondering, is the creator taking a break from posting because his husband kept him busy all night? Hehe.” My face turned pale. I couldn’t read anymore. I threw my phone onto the bed and buried myself under the covers, pretending to be dead. What kind of unholy comments were these?! 3I felt a sharp smack on my butt and shot up from under the covers. Standing by my bed in casual clothes was Steven, looking at me like he knew I’d done something wrong. Panicking, I grabbed my phone and clutched it to my chest. “Why are you home? Shouldn’t you be at work? You know, sacrificing yourself for the company?” Steven’s handsome face remained unreadable as he gave me a once-over, his gaze finally landing on the phone in my hands. His tone was pointed. “Feeling guilty about something?” “Ha! Nonsense. I’m an upstanding citizen. I have nothing to hide!” Steven snorted, clearly unimpressed, and turned to leave. “Come eat. I ordered takeout.” Once he was out of sight, I quickly closed the app and let out a huge sigh of relief. That was close. At the dining table, I spotted my favorite crab buns, and my face lit up like a Christmas tree. I looked at Steven with genuine gratitude. “Steven, you’re the best! If I ever make it big, I won’t forget you!” He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Spare me. It’s better if you do forget.” I didn’t care about his attitude. I was too busy devouring the buns, savoring every bite. The video of me kissing Steven, paired with the moms’ over-the-top reactions, had gone viral within a week. Over 20 million views on the short video platform and more than a million new followers. Sure, there was a chance Steven could see it, but every time I thought about the sponsorship offers rolling in, I couldn’t help but drool a little. So what if I get beaten up? Pride is overrated. If losing some dignity means paying my bills, I’ll take it. A few days later, I got an offer from a company asking me to promote their gaming chairs. They were willing to pay $50,000 per million views. I stared at the email on my laptop, my jaw practically hitting the floor. Is this it? Is this my big break? Am I finally ascending to the top of the food chain?! Overwhelmed with joy, I signed the contract immediately. But as I started planning the next video, doubt crept in. What if this one flopped? The last video’s success was a total fluke. Could I really pull it off again? That evening, Steven came home carrying a package and tossed it onto the table in front of me. “What’s this?” “Something your mom sent you.” I perked up. My mom loved sending me snacks—usually the ones she couldn’t finish or didn’t like. Waste not, want not, right? But when I opened the package, I froze. It wasn’t snacks. It was a dress. A little black dress. “…What the hell?!” From across the room, Steven leaned casually against the wall, sipping his coffee. He smirked and let out a low laugh. “Hah.” “AHHHHHH!” I screamed, chucking the dress onto the floor. Fueled by rage and embarrassment, I charged at Steven, determined to settle this once and for all and salvage my already nonexistent dignity. But before I could get close, Steven calmly reached out, placed a hand on my forehead, and held me at arm’s length like I was a misbehaving child. I flailed helplessly, stuck a full meter away from him. This is war. 4 “Son, did you get the dress I mailed you? Put it on and take a photo for me, okay? Better yet, record a little video. I need inspiration for my work—something like this pose.” After getting thoroughly manhandled by Steven earlier, I opened my mom’s message. Not only did she confirm the package had arrived, but she also assigned me a “task.” Attached to the text was an image: a tall, muscular guy sitting in a chair, while a girl in a sleek black dress leaned toward him. Her hand was playing with her hair, her face turned slightly to show off her flawless profile. The two of them were so close, their lips were practically touching. It was drenched in hormones and tension. She wanted me to wear a dress and recreate this—with Steven? I’d rather die, thanks. Before I could respond, my dear mother, who knows me far too well, sent another message: “If my son doesn’t cooperate, then you can say goodbye to your precious collection. 😊😊😊” Attached was a photo of my carefully curated collection of figurines and models—alongside her hand holding a pair of scissors. This was blackmail. Shameless, blatant blackmail! I glared at the dress, struggled for two minutes, and then caved. My collection was non-negotiable. The fabric of the dress was silky and cold against my bare skin. After fighting with a pair of five-inch heels—and falling flat on my face multiple times—I finally managed to wobble my way to the living room. Steven, who was casually sipping his coffee, took one look at me and spit it out. “What the hell are you staring at? Come help me walk, genius!” Steven, still in shock, staggered to his feet and grabbed my arm to steady me. After a few steps, his face turned strangely red. Without warning, he reached over and adjusted my spaghetti strap. “What are you doing?” I shot him a glare. Steven coughed, avoiding eye contact. His voice was low and awkward. “I could see it… pink.” WHAT?! I immediately crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him suspiciously. I set up my phone, yanked a very confused Steven into the new gaming chair I’d just received for promotion, and posed according to the reference image: leaning toward him, our faces close enough to feel each other’s breath. As I inched closer, Steven’s expression shifted from confusion to alarm, and then to something I couldn’t quite place. His ears turned red, and just when I thought I’d nailed the shot, he leaned forward— And kissed me. His lips brushed mine, soft and warm. I froze, stumbling back a step, completely stunned. “What the hell was that?!” Steven frowned, licking his lips. “I should be asking you that! What are you even doing?” “My mom said she needed inspiration for her art, okay? She threatened my figurines! Wait—didn’t your mom tell you anything about this?!” For context, my mom is an artist who specializes in romance fan art, and Steven’s mom writes novels in the same genre. Growing up, they’d constantly rope us into weird photo shoots, so I thought for sure Steven was in on it. Apparently not. Steven pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was seriously reevaluating his life choices. “Next time, give me a heads-up, will you? I thought you were…” “Thought I was what?” Steven hesitated, his gaze flickering to the empty space on my chest, then down to my legs in the too-short dress and heels. His face turned bright red. “Too cute,” he mumbled. Steven’s reaction gave me an idea. If I could get this video to go viral again, I might as well use it to launch the gaming chair promotion. After all, I’d already crossed the line into wearing a dress—why not profit from it? The video was posted, and the comments section exploded. “OMG, the creator in a dress?! Adorable! Look at those legs!” “Wait, isn’t this the same guy with the ‘tough alpha best friend’ from the last video? I SEE THAT HAND ON HIS WAIST. Don’t try to hide it from us!” “Forget the chair—just kiss already! Right here, in front of us!” “More dress videos, please! You’re too cute to stop now!” I closed the app, my face burning from the sheer chaos of the comments. These fans were absolutely unhinged. But as I watched the follower count and views skyrocket, I couldn’t help but grin. MayMaybe wearing a dress wasn’t so bad after all. If every video brought in millions of views, what’s a little humiliation? Turns out, when it comes to dresses, there’s no such thing as just once.
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