When Julian opened his art gallery, I had imagined something serene. A place where people could walk leisurely, absorbing abstract forms and sculptures, discussing profound meanings behind a canvas splattered with paint.
I never imagined it would become the setting for my brothers' latest scheme. But here I was, walking alongside Ethan Soren, trying to keep my cool in what was, quite clearly, a setup.
Julian and Dante's ridiculous pranks weren't new to me—they'd made a sport of chasing off every guy who tried to get close.
But I had hoped that, maybe just this once, they'd behave. After all, it was an art gallery, Julian's prized possession.
Who in their right mind would risk damaging their own gallery for the sake of a joke?
My brothers, that's who.
Ethan, blissfully unaware of the impending chaos, walked beside me, his eyes occasionally drifting to the modern installations scattered around the gallery.
The large glass windows reflected the setting sun, casting warm hues on the stark white walls. Elegant sculptures stood on pedestals, each one more abstract than the last, while bold paintings adorned the walls in vibrant splashes of color.
To anyone else, it was a beautiful, upscale venue. But for me, it was just another battlefield where my brothers were ready to wage war against yet another suitor.
I could practically feel Julian and Dante lurking somewhere in the shadows, grinning like a couple of mischievous foxes.
"So, how do you like the gallery so far?" Ethan asked, his tone casual, though I could sense a bit of nervousness underneath.
I forced a smile. "It's… definitely something."
He chuckled softly. "That's a very diplomatic answer."
We paused in front of a massive metal sculpture that looked like it had been twisted into an impossible shape, a hallmark of Julian's more experimental phase.
The sculpture was vaguely humanoid but deconstructed, like someone had melted a knight's armor and then bent it in odd directions. Ethan tilted his head, admiring it.
"Impressive piece," he murmured.
"Yeah, Julian's proud of this one," I replied, but my voice trailed off when I noticed the faintest flicker of movement behind the sculpture. My stomach sank.
And then, before I could warn Ethan, the sculpture spoke.
"Ethan Soren... Do you dare continue this date? Are you... worthy? You even dare to bet on Xandria at the prom!"
The voice was deep, distorted, and booming from hidden speakers within the sculpture itself. Ethan froze in his tracks, staring at the metal monstrosity as though it had just come to life. I, on the other hand, felt my face flush with embarrassment.
I knew exactly who was behind this.
"Ethan… I'm so sorry," I whispered, cringing. "They've gone too far."
For a split second, I thought Ethan might bolt, and honestly, I wouldn't have blamed him. But instead, he took a deep breath, glanced at me, and then leaned down slightly to face the sculpture.
His voice was dry with sarcasm. "Yes, I dare. And I'll pass whatever bizarre test this is."
From somewhere in the shadows, I could hear faint snickers. My brothers had clearly expected Ethan to crumble or at least be rattled.
But he just straightened up and gave me a reassuring smile, as if a talking sculpture was the most normal thing in the world.
"I told you," came a hushed voice from nearby. It was Dante, no doubt whispering to Julian. "He's finally got guts."
I shot a glare toward where I suspected they were hiding. The last thing I needed was for Ethan to realize just how far my brothers were willing to go to sabotage this date.
We moved on to another piece, a large abstract painting, all splashes of neon color and chaotic lines. Julian had painted this one himself, and despite his antics, I knew he was incredibly proud of it. So when I noticed the faint shimmer of something wet above us—directly over Ethan's head—I panicked.
"Ethan, watch out!"
I tugged him to the side just as a thin stream of liquid dripped down from the ceiling. It splattered onto the ground where he had been standing moments earlier, and a few drops landed on his sleeve.
Ethan looked down at his arm, and I watched in horror as a streak of blue water ran down the fabric.
He wiped it off, inspecting the stain. Then, instead of freaking out, he just laughed.
"Good thing it's not permanent," he said, shaking his head. "For a second, I thought I was about to owe your brother a few thousand dollars."
I let out a small, disbelieving laugh, relief flooding me. Julian's pranks were always so dramatic, but Ethan seemed to be taking everything in stride. He was even smiling, and the warmth of it made my heart flutter unexpectedly.
From somewhere out of sight, I heard Julian mutter in disbelief, "How is he still smiling?"
But I could sense the tension in the air. Julian and Dante wouldn't let this go. They hadn't won yet, and knowing them, they weren't done trying to break Ethan.
As we ventured deeper into the gallery, we passed by a group of modern sculptures—vivid, geometric shapes made of glass and steel.
I tried to distract Ethan with talk about the artist, but my heart pounded in my chest, knowing another trap was likely waiting just ahead.
And then, out of nowhere, a man appeared. At least, I thought it was a man at first. But then I noticed how unnaturally smooth his movements were, how his image shimmered ever so slightly in the dim gallery light.
It was a hologram. Julian's work, no doubt.
The figure approached us, dressed in a suit, his voice loud and authoritative.
"You there, in the suit. Ethan, is it? Someone like you with no knowledge about art, are you just pretending to appreciate art just so you can date Xandria?"
Ethan blinked, clearly trying to process what was happening. I buried my face in my hands. Julian had really outdone himself this time.
"Ethan, I—" I started, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
He stepped forward, standing tall in front of the hologram. His voice was calm, steady, and confident.
"Look, I'm no art critic," he admitted, pausing for a moment before facing the hologram head-on. "But I know one thing—I'm here because I care about Xandria. If going to an art gallery makes her happy, then I'll be there, no questions asked. Seeing her smile? That's the only thing that matters to me."
My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the way he stood firm even in the face of my brothers' ridiculous pranks, left me speechless. Ethan wasn't just enduring this date—he was defending it. Defending me.
Julian's hologram flickered, and I could almost hear my brothers' stunned silence from wherever they were watching.
I glanced at Ethan, my heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with my brothers' antics. He turned to me, his eyes warm and full of something I hadn't expected to see—genuine affection.
"You've been amazing through all of this," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan looked down at me, his smile warm and steady—the same one that had kept me calm through all the chaos tonight.
"I'm here because I want to be, Xandria," he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. "If it means putting up with pranks, tricks, or whatever tests your brothers throw at me just to be with you tonight, then that's a price I'm more than willing to pay."
And then, before I could talk myself out of it, I stood on my toes and pulled him close, and kissed him.
The gallery faded away, the soft murmurs of other patrons disappearing as my entire world narrowed to that single moment. Ethan's arms wrapped around me, gentle but firm, pulling me closer.
The kiss was soft, tender, but filled with a promise—a promise that no matter what my brothers did, we were in this together.
When we finally pulled apart, I could hear gasps and murmurs from the gallery visitors who had witnessed our bold move. But I didn't care. I felt weightless, fearless.
Behind us, Julian dropped whatever device he had been holding, and Dante let out a low whistle. "Did she just—"
"She kissed him," Julian replied, sounding as though he couldn't believe what he had just witnessed.
I turned, giving them a look that said it all. I won this round.
Ethan squeezed my hand, and as we walked out of the gallery together, I felt lighter than I had in years.
For once, I wasn't running from my brothers' interference. I was standing up to it, alongside someone who wasn't scared off by their antics.
But I knew this wasn't the end. Julian and Dante exchanged a look as we left, already plotting their next move. Their fight wasn't over—not yet.
And deep down, I knew that this wasn't just about them. It was about me. About how I would handle the next challenge, the next hurdle.
Because if there was one thing I had learned tonight, it was that love wasn't just about surviving pranks.
It was about facing them head-on, together.