Chapter 5
He’d been texting me nonstop.
Little check-ins.
Memes that made me laugh.
Occasional voice notes when he was stuck in traffic, talking about podcasts or books he still hadn’t started reading.
He was busy, he said. Work had picked up.
But he wanted me to know he was thinking about me.
That he couldn't get me out of his mind.
That he wasn’t disappearing.
That we were still something.
I wanted to believe it.
And when he did show up, random coffees dropped off at the shop, surprise texts asking if I could sneak out for a walk, it felt like I was being chosen. Like I mattered.
And when he finally told me his name, I thought it would feel like a piece clicking into place... but it came wrapped in quiet tension.
“Andrew,” he said, almost carefully, like he was handing me something breakable.
I remember the way I blinked. The weight of it. The pause that came after.
We’d kissed. We’d touched. We’d flirted and traded pieces of ourselves.
But I hadn’t known his name.
And after a month, he had finally shared it with me, but he shared it with a look on his face I didn't understand, hesitation, or was it calculation... And then he said, "I want to keep us quiet for now."
I must have hesitated. Just a flicker. A twitch of confusion he caught in an instant.
“I know that look,” he said, sighing. “It’s not what you think.”
But that was precisely what it felt like. I thought this past month was building to something, and just like that, the air was taken out from under me, and I couldn't understand why.
He leaned closer, voice lowering as if someone might be listening.
“I’m a private person, Cassidy. And before you say it, I know how that sounds. I do. But the last time I let something good be public, the whispers, the gossip… it ruined everything. People love to destroy what they don’t understand. What they don't have.”
He touched my hand. My thoughts were swirling... what about us, could people not understand... was he worried about our age difference?
“I didn’t want that for this. For us. For you.”
I still felt like something was lodged in my throat, like a tension was curling in my gut, but I couldn't name what I was feeling. Not then.
But it hurt, like my poor heart was trying to warn me.
And then he said, softer... “I want to experience this first. Just for us. Before the world gets its hands on it.”
The red flag was faint, but it waved. The whiplash I was experiencing left me confused.
And he must’ve seen it because he smoothed it down with that velvet voice and those too-knowing eyes.
Like he could see exactly what he had to say... “I’m not selfish with much in my life, Cassidy. But this? You? I want to keep this for myself a little longer. Just until I’m sure I know how to hold it right. I want the beginning of our love story to be just for us.”
And like always… I melted.
Because what he said was perfect. Who wouldn't want to keep the beginning of their love story close to their heart...
A few days later, I invited him over.
It had been a month of seeing each other. He told me he wanted us to be exclusive, that he couldn't handle the idea of sharing me with anyone else.
It was late. A Tuesday, I think.
I’d lit a few candles, thrown a blanket over the couch to cover a coffee stain I hadn't gotten to yet, and told myself not to overthink it.
But I was nervous, and I hadn't been nervous around a man before, so I took it for excitement... for the budding feeling that had been with me since I met Andrew.
He brought wine.
I barely remember drinking it.
Because the moment he kissed me, nothing else mattered. It wasn't like any other kiss we had together.
Every fear, flag, and uncertainty disappeared.
We didn’t stumble or fumble or laugh our way through it.
It was quiet. Slow.
Like he already knew every part of me.
His hands mapped me with purpose. His mouth traced promises down my throat.
And when he finally pushed inside me, I felt like I shattered around him.
“Eyes on me,” he whispered, hips moving slow and deep. “I want to see those baby blues when you cum all over my cock.”
The words, so dirty, so sure, unravelled me.
I felt consumed.
Wanted.
Owned.
Loved.
I don’t know how long it lasted. I just remember the feeling. It was almost like I experienced every emotion in that moment, completely captivated by him.
The way he made me feel like we weren’t just having sex, we were making something.
Something real.
Something permanent.
After, I curled into his chest, heart still stuttering like it hadn’t caught up to the rest of me.
He kissed my shoulder. Played with my hair. Let me trace circles on his ribs with my fingertips.
But after a while, he shifted. Groaned a little. Pulled away gently.
“I have an early morning,” he said, already sitting up, grabbing his pants. “I hate this. I don’t want to rush out after what we just had.”
My smile faltered. Just for a second.
I felt a crack form then... He was leaving?
I didn’t want him to leave. Not after that. Not after everything.
And I guess my face gave me away...
Because he turned, knelt beside me, and brushed a hand down my cheek.
"I am an old man, Cassidy," he said with a self-deprecating laugh, "Don't hold it against me.
.. I don't have anything here for the morning, and I will sleep better in my own bed.
.. I need my beauty sleep..." He trailed his hand up to my hair, brushing it from my still-sweaty brow and tucking it behind my ear.
"I can bring stuff here for next time...
I hate having to leave you. I wish we had planned this better. .."
And then he gave me those words for the first time.
“I love you,” he said.
Three words. Just like that.
Like he wasn’t afraid of them.
Like they were true.
And I believed him.
I needed to believe him.
Because if he loved me… then everything made sense.
The privacy. The distance. The not-staying.
Right?
He loved me.
He was busy.
He had an early morning.
He’d stay next time.
I curled into my pillow as he kissed my forehead, and I watched him gather his things before he left.
And I fell asleep with those words echoing in my head.
I love you.