Song Qi drew a dare: check his phone.
Of everyone in his contacts, who had he told “I love you” the most?
The class beauty: three times.
Me: 972 times.
The jeering around us died at once.
The class beauty burst into tears.
In front of everyone, Song Qi deleted my contact information, then smiled as he coaxed her.
“That’s worth crying over?”
“You know I only dated her for three months to keep up an act.”
“Nothing I said to her was real.”
Those nine hundred-odd declarations had all come from one drunken night.
Song Qi had crouched by the roadside, impossible for anyone to pull away, his head bowed as he sent me the same three words over and over.
“Once I send you ‘I love you’ 999 times, the bet is off.”
“Then we’ll be together for real, okay?”