It’s a late fall day; the ocean breeze is blowing as we walk on the sand and watch the sun go down. Jay’s sandy blond hair is blowingin the wind, his cheeks are flushed, and the sunset’s making his face glow.
I’m captivated, as my heart flutters in my chest. It’s like a scene in a movie where two people meant to be together finally reconnect. The urge to pull him into my arms and kiss him feels so powerful, like gravity pulling me toward him.
I want this with him so badly, and there are moments I think he might be ready. I saw the longing in his eyes today when he thought I wasn’t looking, but when I caught his eye, he quickly masked it with a shy smile.
I consider testing the waters, maybe taking his hand and running my thumb across his skin. But he’s been quiet the farther we’ve walked. I can tell from how he’s biting his lower lip and shoving his hands deep into his pockets that he’s pondering something he wants to say. In moments like these, I don’t push; I wait for him to share what’s on his mind when he’s ready.
It doesn’t take long before he turns towards me.
“It used to be moments like these that I dreaded the most.”
I’m confused. “What do you mean?”
“These are those picture-perfect moments that followers eat up, right?” His expression is contemplative and sad. “Ray used to chase these kinds of days when we were together.
“He would order me around, telling me when to smile, when to kiss him, and to soften my face so I looked like I was in love with him as he snapped photo after photo and took videos of what should have been private moments.”
He looks back at the crashing waves. “But it was all a lie to impress people we didn’t even know. It was exhausting. I neverwant to be put in that position again, to have my life on display for people to weigh in on, good or bad.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Jay, that’s completely valid,” I say, forcing an encouraging smile.
My earlier thoughts that this might be our moment has vanished. It pains me not only to consider what that experience was like for him but also to read between the lines. He’s telling me what he wants for his future—a private life.
He’s asked me not to talk about my sex life, which is connected to my content, and I’ve respected that. Even though I’m not creating anything new, I’m still recycling old posts and revealing a part of myself to the world.
To have a future with him, I have some choices to make.
He smiles and nods, then drops the subject, and we head back to the parking lot. He took the day off from work today, but he needs to get back to Portland for a morning meeting, so we head back to Astoria to where he left his car.
Standing awkwardly outside the driver’s door of his four-door sedan, we say goodbye once again. I have meetings all day tomorrow, followed by an early morning flight back to New York the next day, so I won’t see him again this trip. My realtor, Harrison, is taking me to the airport so I won’t have to impose on Jay.
“Well, I’ll see you next time,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, digging for his keys.
“Hopefully, if all goes right, my next trip will be my big move,” I say, holding his door open for him as he throws his messenger bag across the seat.
We wrap our arms around each other, keeping our hands in purely platonic places. I hold him longer than I probably should, but my heart doesn’t want to let him go.
Every trip gets harder, and every moment together reinforces my desire for us to go the distance. I want us to be together forever, and I’ll be patient so we’re both ready for when that finally happens.
Jay drives away, and I immediately feel the loss of being with him, already missing his warm smile and the way his laughter fills my heart as his taillights disappear.
On the flight back to New York, all I can think about is the conversation on the beach. Is it finally time to shut down my social media accounts and OnlyFans? It’s been part of my plan on paper, and I’m barely posting content as it is, but the reality feels more complicated. It still provides a steady income and acts as a safety net.
For twelve years, I’ve lived my life on camera, portraying a carefully crafted version of myself. What my followers see is Aiden Fox, the confident, well-built thirst trap, who jets off to exotic cities and acts as if every night is a party. That persona I created was to charm people, not to reveal who I truly am.
I used to lean into the act, but now the man I want to be is Aiden Amato—quiet, low-key, and more private. I’d rather sit on the couch watching movies with Jay and playing with my cats than hop on a plane to go to a late-night party. I prefer hikes and sleepy towns to over-crowded, flashy cities and loud clubs. I want something real and lasting, not a staged life for strangers.
Really, it all comes down to what I truly want, so there’s nothing else to think about. It’s time.
Once I’m back home, I pull the plug; posting farewell messages across my social platforms and giving my OnlyFans subscribers plenty of notice. I’ll delete the account within the month.
As far as I can tell, Jay doesn’t follow me anywhere, and I’m not telling him yet. He doesn’t need to bear any part of this decision or feel like he’s costing me something. He shouldn’t think he made me give this up.
No surprise, my phone’s been blowing up with messages from guys I’ve worked with, shocked that I’m finished. I planned for this and drafted short and simple replies, but a few people will need longer conversations.
MacM: What the hell, dude?
Aiden: I know, I should have let you know ahead of time. FaceTime?
