Chapter 30 #2
I frown a little, shaking my head.
He sighs and leans forward.
“PrEP is a pill that prevents HIV. It’s not the same as condoms, but it’s still protection. If Alex isn’t on it, that’s something you two should talk about. Because trust is important, but so is your health.”
I press my lips together, nodding slowly.
“Look, if you both are negative and you’re in a real, committed relationship, technically you don’t need PrEP or condoms. As long as you trust him enough that he will not sleep with other people while you are in the picture.”
I swallow, then give him a grateful smile.
“Now, let’s go back to bottoming.” He looks at me seriously. “Don’t rush it ever. Even if you think you’re ready, even if he’s sweet and sexy and you want it… Take your time. Let your body open at its own pace.”
“What if something goes wrong?” I sign. “What if I freeze up? Or panic? What if it hurts and I just… can’t go through with it?”
Tyler reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“It might hurt a little at first. That’s normal. But if he’s patient, if he’s really worth your first time, then he’ll make sure you’re okay every step of the way.”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheeks.
“And from everything you’ve told me about Alex,” Tyler says, his voice steady, “I know he’s the patient type. I know he’ll make your first time worth it. And if you ever ask him to stop—he will.”
His certainty wraps around me like a blanket. Warm. Comforting.
“You’re not gonna do anything wrong,” he adds, softer now. “You don’t have to perform, or impress, or be perfect. Your only job is to feel. To trust. To breathe.”
I swallow, my throat tight. Every word feels like it’s carving space inside me—space I didn’t know I needed.
He leans in, eyes gentle.
“I won’t lie to you. It might hurt at first, just for a few seconds, while your body adjusts to letting him in. But after that?” He smiles, eyes glinting with something tender. “After that, if it’s done right… There’s so much pleasure waiting for you.”
Something flutters in my chest, shaky and real.
“And you’re allowed to feel everything,” he says. “Shy, scared, excited, nervous, even unsure. It’s your first time, not a checklist. Just be honest. With yourself. And with him.”
I breathe out slowly, trying to hold on to the words like they’re oxygen.
“Don’t stay silent,” He continues gently. “If it hurts, say so. If something feels off, speak up. If it’s too much, let him know. And if it feels good… say that too. Let him know. That’s part of the trust.”
My chest feels too full, like there’s too much emotion and nowhere to put it. I let out a small, shaky breath and nod, the corners of my lips lifting into the tiniest smile.
Tyler cups my cheek, his thumb warm against my skin.
“When it’s the right time, Lucas—you’ll know. And if it doesn’t go perfectly the first time, that’s okay. It’s not supposed to be a damn porn scene. You’re not acting. You’re living in your body. So let yourself feel. Let yourself be.”
“Thank you,” I sign.
His smile is soft and proud, the kind that wraps around my heart and squeezes.
“Anytime,” he murmurs.
Then, with zero warning, his tone shifts.
“Now, let’s get a ridiculous pizza takeout with his fancy Amex card,” he says, already grabbing his phone. “Then we’re going shopping. You’re gonna need the good lube. And a douche bottle. Because if you think I’m letting you step into that battlefield unequipped, you clearly don’t know who I am.”
I blink, signing quickly, “I’m not using his card.”
He throws his hands to his head like a scandalized princess.
“Oh, woe is me! My best friend refuses to spoil me with his hot, intimidating sugar daddy’s card.”
I roll my eyes and slap his thigh.
“He’s not my sugar daddy.”
He pouts dramatically, and I bite my lip, torn between guilt and amusement. I hesitate… then sigh deeply.
“Wanna try that sushi place I told you about?” I sign, giving him a wicked grin
His eyes light up.
“Say less,” he squeals.
Later that day, we came home with more than just sushi—and yes, we used Alex’s Amex.
***
I sit hunched over my laptop, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in my glasses. The Blackwood University transfer portal blinks back at me—Application and Payment: Complete. My fingers hover uselessly over the trackpad, and I let out a long, anxious sigh.
I’ve already submitted applications to the Safer Schools. More affordable. Less intimidating. And they’ll probably accept me too, maybe even offer a little help. But Blackwood… this one’s different.
It’s the dream.
Also, the most expensive school on my list.
They don’t offer financial aid to transfer students, and I knew that going in. But there’s a scholarship I’m applying for soon—partial, not nearly enough to cover everything, but maybe enough to help me breathe. Maybe I could scrape the rest together. Somehow. I’m used to doing things the hard way.
Still… it feels like throwing a paper airplane at a locked door.
I glance at my phone—1:13 PM.
Alex said he’d call once he lands. He’s coming back from his work trip today, and I’m so excited I could puke from nervousness. I miss him so much it hurts.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I set the phone down with a soft thud, just as there’s a knock at my bedroom door.
Tyler pokes his head in, confusion etched across his face.
“There’s someone here to see you,” he says.
My brow furrows. “Alex?” I sign hopefully.
Tyler shakes his head.
“No. A man in a very expensive suit. Says he’s a solicitor.”
“A solicitor?” I sign, confusion tightening in my chest.
“Yeah. Like legal stuff, I guess?” He says with a shrug.
I close my laptop slowly, my pulse suddenly loud in my ears. What would a solicitor want with me?
When I step into the living room, the man stands to greet me. He’s older, maybe in his late forties—balding, but composed, like nothing rattles him. He carries a leather briefcase and offers a polite smile that somehow makes me more anxious.
“Mr. Miller, I presume?” he asks, his tone gentle but firm.
I nod, slowly.
“Yes,” I sign, and Tyler, as usual, voices it for me.
“I’m Daniel Clifford,” he says, stepping forward and offering a firm handshake that I hesitate before accepting. “I’m here on behalf of a client who has asked to remain anonymous. I was asked to deliver and explain the details of a trust fund that has been established in your name.”
“A… trust fund?” Tyler echoes, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, what?”
I frown, my body already resisting.
“I don’t understand,” I sign. “What do you mean?”
Daniel gives a soft nod.
“That’s understandable. But it’s all quite real. If I may?”
He opens the briefcase and pulls out a folder stuffed with neatly clipped documents, setting it carefully on the coffee table.
“Mr.Miller, what I’m about to explain may feel overwhelming, but I encourage you to take your time and process it at your own pace. This is the official trust agreement. You are the sole beneficiary of a newly established trust fund. The details are here, but I’ll summarize everything for you.”
I nod slowly, tension bunching in my shoulders. My hearing aid whines faintly — too much pressure, too much noise inside my own head.
“This trust fund was established in your name by an anonymous benefactor,” he begins, his voice steady, professional, but not cold.
“It is a fully funded irrevocable education trust, which means the assets inside it are locked in for your benefit only; no one can withdraw or redirect them, not even the person who set it up.”
I blink. Slowly.
“This trust will fully cover the tuition fees for any school you choose to attend, up to four years. That includes private institutions.”
Tyler lets out a strangled sound beside me. But I’m too stunned to move.
“In addition,” Daniel continues, “the trust covers full housing support — rent, utilities, and maintenance. A furnished apartment that will be purchased in your name, located near campus. The trust also includes health insurance and medical care, academic supplies, laptops or other required technology.”
I stare at him, not sure I’m breathing.
“There is also a monthly living stipend that will be deposited into an account of your choosing. One where you are the sole account holder. This is for your personal use: groceries, clothing, transportation, emergencies, and anything else you might need to live independently.”
Tyler inhales sharply. “This can’t be real.”
Daniel gives a little smile but continues.
“A separate academic stipend will also be available to cover other educational resources and study support services such as tutoring, counseling, and workshops, should you ever need them. And…”
He pauses just long enough for it to sink in.
“…a vehicle has already been purchased and registered to the trust. It will be transferred into your name once you obtain your driver’s license.
Full insurance and maintenance are covered under the trust. You will have access to everything this fund has to offer once you get accepted to any school of your choice. ”
My stomach flips. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“This has to be a joke,” Tyler mutters, eyebrows drawn. “Like a prank show or something. No one just does this.”
Daniel offers a small, patient smile.
“I understand the skepticism. But I assure you — everything is above board. My firm, Clifford that is a ridiculously high amount for a student to be on a monthly basis.
This isn’t just help. This is something else. This is a life being rewritten.
My fingers tremble as I turn the next page. Housing. Health. Books. An apartment under my name. A car already waiting at a dealership. Insurance. Security. Prepaid utilities.
Everything.
It feels like my chest is caving in. I blink hard, trying to process it. But the harder I try, the more distant it feels — like I’m watching it happen to someone else.
“Why?” I sign, my hands slow and unsteady. “Who would do this?”
But I already know.
I know who keeps rewriting the script of my life behind my back. I know who keeps turning the impossible into reality like it’s nothing.
“I’m afraid I’ve been instructed to keep the identity of the benefactor confidential,” he replies smoothly. “I can only assure you that their intentions appear entirely sincere. There are no conditions, no repayment requirements, and no legal catch. The trust exists solely for your benefit.”
“No repayment?” Tyler echoes, his voice laced with disbelief. “You’re telling us someone just dropped that bomb into my best friend’s life and doesn’t want credit?”
Daniel offers a soft nod. “Correct.”
My head drops slightly, my hair falling over my eyes as I grip the table. I feel like I’m floating outside myself.
“I…” My hands barely move. “I don’t know if I can take this.”
Tyler looks at me, alarmed, then turns to Daniel.
“He’s overwhelmed,” he says, voice tight. “This is… a lot.”
Daniel’s expression remains composed, but not unkind.
“That’s perfectly understandable. You’re under no obligation to accept anything today. The documents are yours to review at your own pace. If you’d like, I can return in a few days to answer any questions — or begin the process to decline the trust, should that be your choice.”
He says it all so gently, like he isn’t standing there holding the keys to a future I crave.
I nod. Barely. My legs feel like paper. I take a step back. Then another. The room tilts slightly, and I focus on not folding in on myself in front of this man who just laid my entire life out like a perfectly planned itinerary.
Tyler glances at me, concern etched into every line of his face. I avoid his eyes. I can’t take that look right now. I take another step back, my chest tightening like something is wrapping itself around my ribs and pulling.
This is too much. Too clean. Too certain. Too perfect.
Too Alexander Petrov.
I turn and walk down the hallway. My steps are uneven. I reach my room and close the door behind me with more force than I intend. My back hits the door, and I slide down, my heart racing like I’ve just run through traffic.
My ears are ringing, no, screaming. A high-pitched buzz that drowns everything out. I fumble for my hearing aids and yank them off, hands trembling. The silence is jarring, but somehow better. Quieter, more muffled, and safer.
I rub hard at my chest like I can physically reach in and calm something down. But nothing quiets. Nothing settles. My head feels like it’s swelling with noise, questions, and disbelief.
What kind of person does this?
What kind of person gives this much without expecting anything in return?
What kind of man… keeps giving like this? Like, I’m someone worth saving?
I grab my phone. Open my inbox.
My fingers hover for only a second. Then I type: We need to talk.
I hit send before I can think too long. Before I can talk myself out of it.
Then I start pacing. Back and forth.
I know it’s him. Of course, it’s him.
He doesn’t just knock on doors. He kicks them in. He doesn’t offer help, he rewrites reality. He doesn’t ask if I need saving, he just pulls me out of the fire and builds me a castle.
What did I do to deserve someone like him?