This chapter is written from Adrian’s point of view.
Sunday night found me on the couch again, legs stretched out, phone resting on my stomach while some half-forgotten series played in the background. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fan and the occasional car passing outside. I had been scrolling aimlessly, trying not to think about the fact that Matteo and I had barely spoken more than office small talk in days, when the screen lit up with a new message. Jessica.
Hey Adrian! Quick question, my birthday party is Saturday at the apartment. Nothing huge, just drinks, music, friends. You are coming, right? Matteo will be lost without his boyfriend. Can not wait to see you!
I stared at the words, the little kiss emoji mocking me. My pulse kicked up immediately. A party. At their place. The same apartment where everything had started with fake dates and fake touches that had stopped feeling fake. I reread the message twice, searching for hidden meaning. She knew. Or at least she suspected. The way she wrote boyfriend felt like a challenge, like she was daring me to show up and prove it. Or maybe daring Matteo. Either way, the thought of being in that space again, surrounded by friends who would expect us to act like a couple, made my stomach twist with equal parts dread and something dangerously close to excitement.
A whole night near him. Forced to touch, to laugh, to pretend. What if he was still distant? What if he barely looked at me? What if he leaned into the act so hard it felt real again, and I had to walk away at the end of the night pretending it was nothing?
I set the phone down for a second, rubbing my face with both hands. The invite had come out of nowhere, but it made a twisted kind of sense. Jessica had never been one to let things go quietly. If she thought Matteo was faking, she would want proof. And a party full of mutual friends was the perfect stage.
Before I could decide how to reply, the phone buzzed again. Matteo.
Hey man, Jessica is pissing me off big time lol. She is still not convinced about us. Keeps asking questions. Fuck her. We will chill together at the party, yeah?
I sat up straighter, heart thudding harder. He had texted almost immediately after her message, like he knew it was coming. ‘Chill together’. The words hung in my mind, simple but loaded. Did he mean fake couple mode, arm around shoulders, quick kisses for show? Or something else? Something that echoed the night at Antonio's, the heat of his body pressed to mine, the way he had groaned when he came on my fingers?
I remembered that night in flashes: his cock thick and hot in my hand, the wet slide of precum, the way his abs had tensed and released as he bucked into my grip. The broken sound he made when he came, thick spurts coating my fingers, warm and messy. The way he had laughed breathlessly after, saying thanks like it was nothing, then pulling away in the days that followed.
I typed back, fingers unsteady. ‘Yeah, I just got her invite. You sure it is okay?’
His reply came fast. ‘Do not come for her. Come for me. I will make sure she does not hover around you all night. Promise I have got your back.’
I stared at the screen, a small, involuntary smile tugging at my mouth despite everything. Matteo being protective, sweet in that effortless way he had. It made my chest ache. But confusion rushed in right behind it. He had been distant for days, short texts and quick waves in the office, acting like the night at Antonio's had never happened. Like we could just go back to being best friends who had not crossed that line. And now this. Come for me. I will make sure she does not hover. What did he mean? Was it just the act, keeping up appearances? Or was he feeling the same pull I was?
I took a breath, typed: Okay. I will be there.
Sent.
Then to Jessica: Sounds fun. I will be there. Happy early birthday.
Her reply was instant: Perfect! See you Saturday.
I set the phone down and leaned back against the cushions, heart racing. The invite was real now. I had said yes. No backing out. The thought of seeing Matteo again, of being close enough to touch him under the guise of performance, sent a shiver through me. But the doubt lingered. What if he was awkward? What if he kept the distance even there? What if the party only proved how much he wanted to forget?
The days at the office felt different. Tuesday, Matteo came by my desk mid-morning, casual as ever, leaning against the partition with that easy grin. “So, no need to get Jessica a gift, okay? You dare not bring her anything fancy. I know how kind you are.’”
I laughed despite myself. “Matteooo. It is not polite. I will grab a bottle of wine or something.”
He rolled his eyes, teasing. “Get the cheapest one. She will hate it, and I will love watching her face.”
We bantered back and forth for a minute, the kind of light, stupid talk we used to have all the time. It felt good. Normal. But underneath it I was hyper-aware of how close he was standing, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders.
Later, on a Thursday evening, during a quiet moment in the break room, he brought up Jessica again. “She is adamant I am faking it. Still not over me. I even stopped walking around the house shirtless because she keeps staring. It is ridiculous.”
He said it with a laugh, rolling his eyes dramatically, making it sound like a joke. I laughed too, but I caught the slight tension in his voice, the way his smile did not quite reach his eyes. He was dealing with her the best he could, and somehow it made him feel more real to me. More human.
Saturday morning came too fast. I stood in front of my closet longer than I should have, trying on shirts, discarding them, settling on a simple white linen button-down that fit well without screaming for attention, paired with dark jeans. I looked in the mirror, ran a hand through my hair, and tried to breathe. What if he was awkward again? Or distant? What if we had to kiss to keep up the act, and it felt too real? What if it did not?
I grabbed a bottle of decent red wine, not the cheapest, because I could not bring myself to be petty, and headed out.
The distance to their apartment felt endless. Nerves built with every step as I walked up the stairs, a mix of dread and anticipation twisting in my gut. By the time I reached the door, music was already spilling out, lights glowing against the evening sky. I took a deep breath and knocked.
The apartment door swung open to music and laughter spilling out into the hallway. String lights draped across the ceiling cast a warm golden glow over the familiar terracotta walls, turning the space into something softer, more inviting than the last time I had stood here. The air smelled like wine and citrus candles and the faint salt of the sea drifting in through the open balcony doors. People filled the living room, glasses in hand, voices overlapping in easy chatter. I stepped inside, bottle of red wine tucked under my arm, wearing the white linen shirt I had chosen earlier, sleeves rolled to my elbows, the fabric loose but fitted enough across my chest and shoulders. Black pants hugged my thighs and tapered at the ankles, simple but sharp. I had told myself it was just clothes, nothing special, but my reflection earlier had made me pause longer than I wanted to admit.
Jessica spotted me immediately. She moved through the crowd with that effortless grace she always had, hair swept up, dress clinging in all the right places, a glass of something sparkling in her hand. Her smile was wide and welcoming, but her eyes held that familiar sharpness, like she was already cataloging every detail.
"Adrian Cole," she said, pulling me into a quick hug that smelled like expensive perfume and summer. "You made it. Look at you. So glad you came."
I handed her the wine. "Happy birthday. Thought this might survive the night."
She took the bottle, turning it to read the label with exaggerated interest. "Very thoughtful. Thank you." Then she glanced down at my outfit, eyes flicking up again with a teasing grin. "Did you boys coordinate? You and Matteo look like a matching set of boyfriends tonight. White shirts, dark pants. Adorable. Not planned at all"
I laughed, the sound coming out a little tighter than I meant it to. "Pure coincidence. I swear."
Her friends clustered nearby laughed too, one of them raising her glass. "Coincidence my ass. Matteo's going to lose it when he sees you wearing the same thing as him. He's been asking about you all evening."
Jessica looped her arm through mine for a second, steering me toward the group. "Come say hi to everyone. They have been dying to meet the guy who finally tamed The Matteo Romano."
I let her lead me, nodding and smiling through introductions. The conversation stayed light, teasing questions about how long we had been together, how Matteo had kept me hidden after his breakup with Jessica. I answered carefully, keeping it vague and playful, but every word felt like walking a tightrope. Jessica stayed close, her smile never quite reaching her eyes, watching me the way someone watches a performance they suspect might crack.
I scanned the room for him without making it obvious. The balcony doors were open, music pulsing low and steady. People danced in loose clusters, glasses clinking. Then the kitchen door swung open, and Matteo stepped out.
He looked devastating.
Black jacket, tailored just enough to hug his broad shoulders, open over a white linen shirt that clung to his chest and abs in a way that made my throat tighten. The top two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing a sliver of collarbone and the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Black pants sat low on his hips, fitted through the thighs, every step showing the easy power in his legs. His curls were slightly tousled, like he had run a hand through them moments ago, and the lights caught the warm tan of his skin, making him glow.
Our eyes met across the room.
He saw me, and his face changed. The polite smile he had been wearing for whoever he had been talking to softened into something warmer, more genuine. His eyes lit up, literally brightening in the golden light, and the corners of his mouth curved higher than they had any right to. It was not the performative grin he used for friends or the careful one he had been giving me in the office lately. This was real, unguarded, like seeing me had flipped a switch inside him.
He started toward me immediately, cutting through the crowd with that confident, loose stride. People parted without him asking. When he reached me, he slid one arm around my shoulders in a move so natural it felt rehearsed, but the weight of it, the warmth of his body pressing close, was anything but casual.
I caught his scent up close, dark and rich and unmistakably him. Something woody and smoky, layered with the faint trace of sun on his skin. It hit me like an aphrodisiac, intoxicating, pulling memories of that night straight to the surface: his rock hard cock in my hand, his hips pulling up as he came.
“Finally, babe,” he murmured, voice low enough that only I could hear, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Jessica's friends over here believe I could not pull a cute boyfriend. Prove them wrong, won't you?”
I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze. We were close, faces inches apart, his arm still draped around me, fingers resting warm against my shoulder blade. His eyes were bright, almost glowing in the low light, locked on mine with an intensity that made everything else fade. The smile on his face was soft, real, the kind that reached deep and stayed there. It could not have been fake. Not with the way his thumb brushed once, slow and deliberate, against the fabric of my shirt. Not with the way his body leaned in, solid and steady, like he had been waiting all night for this exact moment.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I swallowed, voice coming out quieter than I meant. “I think I can manage that.”
His smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a second the party disappeared. It was just us, standing in the glow of the lights, his arm around me, his scent wrapping around me, his gaze holding mine like it never wanted to let go.
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