I’ve been living with Alex for just over two months, and each day I find myself wishing for more time with him. As I lie beside him-his head resting on my shoulder, his eyes closed, arms wrapped around my waist, legs entwined with mine-his soft snores bring me a profound sense of peace that’s hard to articulate.
Waking up like this each morning feels like the best gift life has given me.
I gently stroke Alex’s face for a moment, brushing some of his curly hair away to gaze at him more clearly.
He’s simply… handsome.
I can’t believe he’s nine years older than me; it hardly feels like it. Occasionally, I wish Alex were my age or at least not so… old. Still, I understand that if that were the case, we might not even be together, given how different our life stages are.
When I hear Alex’s phone ringing, I notice he doesn’t react. I hesitate but get distracted from my admiration by the noise. Carefully, I shift away from him, placing a pillow between us, and head to the nightstand. I glance at the screen:
“Ramsay”
The call ends without Alex noticing, and I’m left wondering: who-or what-is Ramsay?
Suddenly, I’m pulled back to the bed as Alex’s arms wrap around me. I let out a soft moan as I fall back against him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Good morning, love,” he whispers, and I can’t help but smile at his sleepy voice and the sight of his drowsy eyes. “Did you wake up early?” he asks, and I shake my head. He smiles faintly and sighs.
“Someone called you,” I blurt out, a feeling of unease creeping in. Alex raises an eyebrow and reaches for his phone.
When he sees the missed call, his jaw tightens, and he frowns.
“Who was it?” I ask, but he just shakes his head.
“Oh, it’s nothing important,” he insists, and I know him well enough to detect the lie. I sigh, remembering the girl he mentioned in the past who continues to linger in my thoughts.
I nod and try to shift the subject, “Do you want to eat?” I ask, and he hesitates.
“What I’m craving isn’t in the kitchen,” he says, pouting, which makes my cheeks flush.
After a moment of kissing and flirting, we head down to prepare our meal. Alex is busy making sauce while I cook pasta. Once we sit down to eat, I can’t help but laugh at the way he glances my way while his foot playfully touches my leg.
Once we finish, he pulls me in for a kiss, and I feel embarrassed since I haven’t brushed my teeth, but he seems unfazed. Soon, I’m lying on the couch as he explores my body with his rough hands.
Yet, my mind is racing with questions.
He’s hiding something from you. Ask him about Ramsay. Ask him about Racheal.
Breaking away to catch my breath, I see him smiling at me with his red, swollen lips. As he reaches towards the elastic of my panties, I gather courage and ask:
“Who is Ramsay?” I voice nervously, meeting his gaze. He looks confused. “You know, the call you got this morning,” I whisper.
“Sweetheart, it’s nothing important, just work,” he replies, brushing off my concern. Sighing, I search his eyes and sense he’s not being completely honest.
“Alex, please just be honest with me,” I plead, and he exhales deeply.
“It’s really nothing, let it go,” he replies curtly.
I frown, and my mind spirals with a million scenarios: bars, women, or even a nickname for that girl who haunts my thoughts. Anger bubbles up inside me.
“Okay,” I say flatly, standing up. Alex reaches out, gripping my wrist to pull me back.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Don’t be angry,” he says.
“It’s nothing, let it go,” I echo his words, and I watch him scan my face, finally letting go.
I walk upstairs, undressing and changing into fitted blue jeans and a loose white blouse. Grabbing a slightly oversized sweater, I slip it on.
“Where are you going?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.
Feeling defeated, I answer softly, and as I grab one of my bags and exit the room, I shove past him with my shoulder.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous…”
“Ridiculous, me?” I retort, ready to explode with jealousy, anger, and sadness over Alex’s secrets.
Instead, I choose to leave, dashing out of his house with his voice calling after me.
I try to reach Emily, but after numerous attempts to call her, I grow frustrated and decide to enter a nearby coffee shop I don’t know well.
Once inside, I order an apple cinnamon tea to soothe myself, pay, and sigh in relief. I sit at a small two-person table and see Alex’s calls coming through, so I ignore and block them. When my name is called, I grab my tea and return to my table, lost in thought.
Why does he feel the need to hide things from me? I’ve shared everything about myself with him. I know Racheal is part of his past, so why can’t he just open up? Does he not trust me? Does he still have feelings for her?
“What’s a young lady like you doing here?”
I look up, meet a pair of familiar blue eyes, and frown.
“I just wanted some tea,” I reply softly, and he grins.
Elijah!
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, and I shake my head.
Once he settles across from me, his gaze fixes on me, and I look away.
“Something happened between you and him, didn’t it?” he asks, and I snort, diverting my eyes.
I can feel tears welling up but suppress them.
“It’s nothing, really,” I mutter, shrugging and sipping my tea.
He stays silent for a few moments but then nods knowingly.
“For you, or for him?” he questions, meeting my eyes. For a split second, I feel safe, as if he’s someone I can trust. “Because if it matters to you, it matters. Just because someone else thinks it’s insignificant doesn’t mean you have to feel the same,” he adds. I hold his gaze, and soon a sob escapes my lips, and I nod.
His hand finds mine, comforting me as he gently caresses my arm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, and I hesitate but ultimately shake my head.