THE ONE WHO NOTICED

NINE

I wake up to my phone buzzing, and for once, I'm not filled with dread.

Good morning beautiful. I'm still thinking about that kiss and how I wanna feel your lips again. How'd you sleep?

My face heats up just reading it. I can practically hear his voice saying those words.

I slept good. Been thinking about it too.

Good. What are you doing today?

Nothing. Just hanging with Magz.

Care if I come over? I wanna see you.

My heart does that flutter thing. He wants to see me. The day after.

Yeah. Come over.

Be there in an hour.

And he is. Exactly an hour later, there's a knock on my door, and when I open it, he's standing there with coffee and that smile.

"Couldn't stay away," he says, handing me a cup.

He steps inside, shuts the door behind him, and immediately kisses me. "Mhmm, been dreaming about that all night. Here's your coffee and some breakfast."

He holds up a bag from the diner down the street, and I can smell the bacon.

We sit at the counter, and he just smiles and stares at me.

"You gonna eat?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

"Yeah, I just like seeing you all bed head and relaxed. Finally." That smirk. "It was no easy thing to get you."

My face heats up. "Yeah, well, you were pretty persistent."

"And it paid off."

We finish breakfast, and he pulls me over to the couch. Magz immediately jumps up between us, and he laughs, scratching behind her ears.

"Guess I gotta share you," he says.

We settle in, watching some random show on TV. His arm is around me, and I'm tucked into his side. It feels... normal. Good. Like this is where I'm supposed to be.

Then his phone starts going off.

He grabs it quick, glances at the screen, and his whole demeanor shifts. "I gotta take this."

He gets up and steps outside, closing the door behind him.

I sit there, staring at the closed door, that familiar uneasy feeling creeping back in.

A few minutes later, he comes back in, kisses me on the forehead, and grabs his keys.

"I gotta head to work. I'll text you in a little while, alright?"

"Oh. Okay."

And just like that, he's gone. The door closes, and I'm sitting on the couch with Magz, staring at the spot where he just was.

What just happened?

He was here, everything was good, and then one phone call and he's out the door. No real explanation. Just "work."

I push the feeling back. It's fine. He has a job. Things come up.

But that uneasy feeling doesn't quite go away.

---

The next couple days go pretty smooth. He's sweet and caring—texting me throughout the day, coming over after work, making me laugh. But then he'll get closed off when I ask about work. Changes the subject or gives me vague answers.

I request some time off to just enjoy myself and this new relationship. Maybe if I'm not stressed about my job, I can actually relax and stop overthinking everything.

But things keep popping in my head.

Like how he still hasn't invited me to his place. Or how I don't really know what he does for work. Or how sometimes his phone will light up and he'll flip it over real quick, like he doesn't want me to see.

Little things. Things I tell myself don't matter.

---

A couple weeks later, we have plans to meet for dinner on Thursday. I've been looking forward to it all week. But at 4 pm, I get a text.

Can't make it tonight. Something came up. I'm sorry.

That's it. No explanation. No "I'll make it up to you." Just... something came up.

I text back. Everything okay?

Nothing.

I wait an hour. Two hours. By 7 pm, I'm convincing myself he's done with me. That this is how it ends. A vague text and silence.

But then, at 10 pm, there's a knock on my door.

It's him. He looks tired, stressed.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just... I needed to see you. I missed you all day."

"You could've texted me back."

"I know. I'm sorry. Today was just... a lot. Can I come in?"

I should tell him no. I should tell him that disappearing all day isn't okay. But he's looking at me like I'm the only thing keeping him together, so I let him in.

He wraps me in a hug, and I feel him relax against me.

"I really am sorry," he murmurs into my hair.

And just like that, I let it go.

---

A few days later, we're at my place watching TV. His phone buzzes on the coffee table. He glances at it, and his jaw tightens.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. Just work stuff." He picks up his phone and stands. "I'll be right back."

He steps into the bathroom, and I hear the door lock. He's in there for fifteen minutes, and when he comes out, he's all smiles again like nothing happened.

"Everything good?" I ask.

"Yeah, all good. Where were we?"

But it doesn't feel good. It feels like he's hiding something.

---

About a month in, he shows up at my apartment one Saturday morning with flowers and a bag from my favorite bakery.

"What's this for?" I ask, surprised.

"Do I need a reason to spoil my girl?"

My girl. Every time he says it, my heart does that stupid flutter thing.

We sit on my front step with coffee and pastries, and for once, he seems relaxed. Open.

"Can I ask you something?" I say.

"Anything."

"What do you actually do for work? You're always so vague about it."

He's quiet for a second, and I think he's going to deflect again. But then he sighs.

"I do contract work. Make good money, so I keep with it."

I wait for him to say more, but that's it. Still vague, but at least it's something.

I reach for his hand. "Okay."

He squeezes my hand. "I'm working on letting you in more. I promise."

It feels like progress.

---

By the time we're almost two months into being official, things start feeling... heavier.

We're supposed to go out Friday night. I get dressed, do my makeup, and wait.

7 pm comes and goes. No text.

At 7:30, my phone finally buzzes.

Running late. Be there soon.

"Soon" turns into 8:30. When he finally shows up, he doesn't apologize right away. Just kisses me and says, "Ready?"

"You're over an hour late."

"I know, I know. Traffic was insane."

But something about it doesn't sit right. There's no traffic on a Friday at 7 pm in this town.

"Traffic?"

"Yeah. Accident on the main road. Whole thing was backed up."

I want to believe him. But I drove past the main road an hour ago when I ran to the store, and there was no accident.

I don't say anything. I just get in the Jeep.

The next day, he shows up with a gift—a necklace, simple and pretty.

"I felt bad about last night," he says, fastening it around my neck. "I know I've been... off lately. But I'm trying, Kasin. I really am."

And just like that, I forgive him again.

---

A week later, we're at my place watching a movie and eating dinner when he casually asks if he can stay the night with me.

My heart skips. We've been together now for about four months, and this would be the first time. I think I can be okay with that.

"Yeah," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

His whole face lights up. "Yeah? Good. I'll be back—I'm gonna run and get a few things and us some snacks. We can have an all-night movie night."

"Okay."

He kisses me, grabs his keys, and heads out.

I look at the time. 7:30 pm.

I clean up a little, change into something more comfortable, try to calm my nerves. This is good. This is normal. Couples do this.

By 9 pm, I'm checking my phone.

No text.

By 10 pm, I'm pacing.

I text him. *When you coming back?*

Nothing.

By 11 pm, there's a knock on the door.

I open it, and he's standing there with bags in his hands, that smile on his face.

"Sorry, phone died. Got us some ice cream, a few movie options—my taste and yours—and some popcorn."

He walks in like nothing's wrong, like he didn't just leave me waiting for three and a half hours with no word.

"Your phone died?"

"Yeah, charger in my Jeep is busted. I didn't realize until I was already out." He sets the bags down and pulls me into a hug. "Sorry, baby. I'm here now though."

I want to be mad. I want to tell him that he could've come back and told me, or stopped somewhere and borrowed a phone. But he's here, and he brought all this stuff, and he's looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters.

So I push it down.

That nagging feeling is there, sitting in the back of my mind, but I shove it away and try to just enjoy his company.

We settle on the couch with ice cream and popcorn. He lets me pick the first movie, and halfway through, I'm curled up against him, his arm around me, and it feels good. Right.

"You okay?" he asks, looking down at me.

"Yeah. I'm good."

"You sure? You seem tense."

"I'm fine. Just happy you're here."

He kisses the top of my head. "Me too."

We're into his second movie choice when he starts to whisper in my ear. Sweet things. How beautiful I am. How he's been thinking about this all day. How he wants me.

My breath catches, and he pulls me closer, his lips finding mine.

The movie fades into the background. His hands are on me, warm and sure, and for once, my brain shuts off. I'm not overthinking. I'm not waiting for something bad to happen.

I'm just here. With him.

The kissing turns more passionate. More desperate. Deep.

His hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I melt into him completely.

We stay like that for what feels like forever before he pulls away.

We're both out of breath.

"I don't wanna push you," he says, his voice rough, strained. "So I'm gonna pull back, 'cause if we keep going like this..."

He shifts, and I can feel him hard against me. The pressure sends heat through my entire body.

"I'm not gonna be able to stop myself."

My body is hot to the touch. My heart is racing so hard I can hear it in my ears. Every nerve ending is on fire.

And I don't think I wanna stop here.

"What if I don't want you to stop?"

The words come out breathless, barely a whisper. But I mean them.

His eyes darken. He searches my face—looking for nervousness, doubt, hesitation.

But he sees nothing.

Because there is nothing. Just want. Just need. Just him.

He comes closer, his hand sliding to my waist. In one smooth motion, he pushes me back against the couch, and suddenly he's on top of me, his weight pressing me down in a way that makes my breath catch.

We start kissing again. Harder this time. Hungrier.

His hands are everywhere—sliding up my sides, tracing the curve of my waist, feeling every inch of my body like he's memorizing it.

"Kasin," he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and rough. "You're so f*****g sexy."

His hand finds my breast, and even through my shirt I can feel the heat of his palm. He squeezes gently, and I arch into his touch without thinking.

He's pushing his hardness against me now, right where I need the pressure most, and a small moan escapes me before I can stop it.

"That's it, baby," he whispers. "Let me hear you."

His lips move to my neck, kissing, biting gently, and my hands find his back, pulling him closer. I don't want any space between us. I want all of him.

Everything else fades away. The doubts. The red flags. The fear.

Right now, there's only this. Only us.

His hands slide under my shirt, and in one swift motion, he pulls it over my head. I barely have time to catch my breath before his hands are at my back, and with a quick flick, my bra clasp comes undone.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, and the way he's staring makes my face flush hot.

"Damn," he breathes.

Then his mouth is on me. His lips close around my n****e, his tongue circling, and I gasp. My hands find his shirt, tugging at it desperately.

He pulls back just long enough to yank it over his head and toss it aside.

And Jesus.

I knew he was built, but seeing him like this—bare chest, defined abs, muscles that look carved, every line and curve like something out of a damn dream. His tattoos sprawl across his shoulders and down his arms, dark ink against sun-kissed skin.

He looks like a Greek god. All power and beauty and raw masculinity.

My hands move to his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle, feeling the way his body tenses under my touch.

"You keep looking at me like that," he says, his voice rough, "and this is gonna be over way too fast."

He leans back down, his mouth finding my other breast, and I arch into him, my fingers sliding into his hair.

Next thing I know, his hands are under me, and he's lifting me up like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he's carrying me toward the bedroom.

"I've been thinking about this for months," he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.

My back hits the mattress, and he's above me again, his eyes dark with want. His hands move to the waistband of my shorts.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his voice strained. "Because once we do this, I'm not gonna be able to get enough of you."

I reach up and pull him down to me, kissing him hard.

"I don't want you to stop."

He slides my shorts down, taking his time, his hands trailing along my thighs. Every touch sends electricity through me.

When he looks at me again, there's something different in his eyes. Something deeper than just want.

"You're so beautiful, Kasin," he says quietly. "I mean it. Every part of you."

My breath catches. No one's ever looked at me like this. Like I'm something precious.

His jeans come off next, and then there's nothing between us. Just skin and heat and need.

He kisses me again, slower this time. His hands move down my body, learning every curve, every place that makes me gasp.

"Jayden," I breathe.

"I got you, baby. I got you."

His fingers find where I'm already aching for him, and I arch against his hand. He watches my face, learning what I like, what makes me moan.

"You're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice rough. "God, Kasin."

When he finally settles between my thighs, I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer.

"You ready?" he asks, his forehead pressed against mine.

"Yeah."

He pushes into me slowly, and I gasp at the feeling. He groans, his hands gripping my hips.

"f**k, you feel so good," he breathes.

He starts moving, slow at first, letting me adjust. But then I'm pulling him deeper, matching his rhythm, and everything else disappears.

There's just us. Just this.

His mouth is on my neck, whispering things that make my face burn. How perfect I feel. How he's wanted this for so long. How I'm his.

And in this moment, I believe it. I believe all of it.

My hands grip his back, his shoulders, anywhere I can reach. The pressure builds inside me, coiling tighter and tighter.

"Don't stop," I gasp. "Please don't stop."

"Never," he says against my skin. "I'm not going anywhere."

The rhythm intensifies. His breathing is ragged, matching mine. My nails dig into his back as everything builds to that perfect edge.

"Kasin," he groans my name like a prayer.

And then I'm falling, breaking apart underneath him, and he's right there with me—