I glance over at James as he sleeps beside me. I care about this man so much, it makes my chest ache. He doesn’t seem to feel the ticking clock like I do, or maybe he just does a better job at ignoring it. I wish I could do the same, but I know the fallout is inevitable, and I can’t stop wondering whether we’ll survive it. I trust James implicitly, but will the beauty of what we have between us break under the pressure?
I want to believe that we can make it through, that we’re strong enough to face whatever comes. It feels like we’re bound by the same thread, something unbreakable. No matter the distance, time, or directions our lives took, it feels like life was always meant to lead us to each other.
It feels real.
It’s worth the risk.
The soft patter of water fills the room as James steps into my en suite shower, and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. I’m floating on cloud nine.
It’s early Sunday morning, and we woke the way we usually do. Well, usually, I’m rolled onto my back, and James slides inside me. This morning, however, I took control, pushing him onto his back and sinking down onto his hard, rigid length.
I moved over him, slow and steady until we couldn’t last any longer, his release spurting deep inside me. Afterwards, James insisted on cleaning me up. He ran a cloth under warm water before returning to my side and gently wiping me down. His touch was tender, and between the soft strokes, he pressed gentle kisses on my lips, my forehead, and my temples.
Grabbing the robe from the back of my door, I slip it on and wrap it snuggly around myself, pulling the belt tight at my waist. I let him shower in peace, though it’s hard to resist the urge to join him, and I head downstairs.
I make a beeline for the coffee machine. Grabbing two of my own handmade mugs from the cupboard and my beloved coffee pods, I fetch the milk from the fridge. I pour the milk into the frother, the quiet thrum filling the kitchen as the milk spins and thickens into a creamy foam. I watch as the rich, dark liquid flows, infusing the air with my favourite scent. I take a deep breath in, inhaling the rich aroma, and close my eyes. I lean back against the counter. My mind is still, and my heart is steady. This is peace and happiness.
We haven’t discussed our plans for the rest of the day, but I’m happy to play it by ear. I’d love for James to stay, but I’d understand if he needs to head out—his audition is coming up fast, and I know how much every moment counts.
Over the past few months, I’ve noticed a real shift in the way the band plays compared to when I first heard them. I’d like to think I might have contributed to James’s passion on-stage, but I know I can’t take all the credit. Watching the guys perform, they’ve become a single, cohesive unit—completely in sync and feeding off one another’s energy. Their chemistry as a band is undeniable, and it’s electric to witness.
There’s something incredibly sexy about a man with drive. In the mornings, he softly taps his fingers on the countertops,thumping his foot in sync with the rhythm. I can almost hear the melody running through his head as he moves.
As much as the idea of not seeing him for months is difficult, I know how amazing this opportunity would be for him. It could be career-defining—opening doors to endless possibilities and finally giving the band the recognition they’ve worked so hard for. And who knows? They might even score a record deal. If anyone deserves it, it’s James. A swell of emotion and pride rises in my chest at the thought of it, and I can’t help but buzz with excitement.
I’m pouring the last of the frothed milk into the second mug when a knock sounds at the door. My brows crease in confusion; I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Maybe it’s a delivery.
Wiping my hands over the front of my robe, I walk to the door and swing it open. The moment I see who’s standing there, a cold paralysis takes over, leaving my body heavy as stone.
Lucas.
“Hey,” he says.
I blink, caught off guard, before my gaze drops to his hand. He’s holding a bouquet of white roses.
“Hey…,” I say.
“These are for you,” he says, extending the flowers towards me. Confused, I reach out and take them. He gives me a small, hopeful smile.
“May I come in?”
I exhale, gripping the bouquet a little tighter. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you. I thought perhaps we could talk … and, well, maybe I could see Basil,” he says, his voice trailing off.
“I would have appreciated a call or text,” I lower the bouquet. “Look, Lucas, I don’t?—”
“I know I fucked up. The thought that I hurt you—it’s been eating at me every single day. I’d do anything for another chance. Please.” His voice cracks and his eyes shimmer with hope. The hurt in his voice stings. I haven’t thought about him at all since I last saw him. I’ve been so wrapped up in James, literally and figuratively—the two of us like a pair of horny teenagers.
I knew our paths were bound to cross at some point, but I certainly wasn’t ready now.
Not like this.
“Please,” he whispers, “can I come in?”
“Now really isn’t a good time.”
