CONNECTION

I didn’t text him immediately.

I waited three days. On purpose, I didn’t want to seem desperate.

“Hi,” I finally sent, watching the screen like it owed me something.

A few seconds later, his reply came in:

“Hello, who is this please?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Eve. The girl from Agatha’s bar.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, beautiful. How have you been?”

And just like that, the conversation picked up. Effortless. Smooth. He was funny. Flirty. The kind of charming that made you feel special just through text. I found myself looking forward to his texts, rereading his compliments, smiling like a fool in the dark.

A few days later, I went back to Agatha’s bar. Truthfully, I was hoping to see him.

I told her everything, what he said, how he made me feel.

She looked at me, serious for the first time all night. “I’ll just give you one piece of advice: avoid Ian.”

I blinked. “Not that I’m interested in him… but why do you say that?”

“I’ve known him since I started working here. I’ve overheard enough of his conversations to know the kind of guy he is. He’ll sleep with you and then laugh about it with his friends like you were just another story. I can’t tell you what to do, but be careful, Eve.”

I thought about what she said. And it made sense. It really did.

So I made a decision: I wasn’t going to fall for him. There was no way I’d catch feelings. Maybe he could be someone to pass time with, someone to flirt with nothing more. I wasn’t going to let him fuck me.

I told Agatha that I needed a serious relationship, something real. Ian clearly wasn’t that.

The most logical thing to do would’ve been to stop texting him.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I let the conversations grow deeper. Dirtier.

He began how he wanted to taste me. How he’d make me feel things I’d never felt before. How he couldn’t stop thinking about me.

I should’ve ended it right there.

But I didn’t.

Somewhere between his bold words and the late-night confessions, I started believing the things he said. He told me he liked me not just for sex. He said I made him feel something. That I was different.

And maybe I wanted to be.

Unlike the first impression I had of him, he turned out… nice. Gentle. And experienced. He ticked every box on the kind of guy I’d always dreamed of.

I was a not-so-innocent eighteen-year-old, virgin.

And he was older, confident, the kind of man who knew exactly what he was doing.

I started frequenting Agatha’s bar just so I could see him.

It was becoming a habit, showing up and hoping he’d be there. And he usually was. Every time we talked, held hands, or hugged, it felt like there was something neither of us could deny. Chemistry. Or at least, that’s what I called it then.

Every night we met, it became our routine to take a walk down the quiet street beside the bar. He would wrap his arms around me, his breath warm against my ear, whispering things like “I want you so bad,” and “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

He smelled like warm leather and spice. Fuck! my weakness.

Looking back now, it wasn’t chemistry. It was lust. Infatuation. A mindfuck that felt like magic when it was happening.

A few weeks later, I went to Agatha’s bar again. I called Ian to ask if he was home.

He was.

He suggested I come over, we could eat, watch a movie, nothing serious.

I agreed immediately.

It’s just a movie, I told myself. What could possibly go wrong?

He lived alone in a small, cozy apartment. It was… surprisingly neat. Organized. Not a thing out of place. Just like him, put together on the outside, unreadable on the inside.

We watched the movie like he said we would. He didn’t try to touch me. Aside from pulling me into a soft cuddle midway, nothing happened.

No kisses.

No hands wandering under my clothes.

No pressure.

I was shocked, to be honest. I expected something else. Anything else.

That restraint… it disarmed me. It made me think, maybe I got him all wrong.

Of course, I told Agatha. I told her that we might’ve misjudged him. That maybe he wasn’t just another guy looking for sex.

She just looked at me and said the same thing she always did:

“Be careful, Eve.”

And I promised I would.

But we both knew, I was already in too deep.

The next day, we met at Agatha’s bar again. Ian suggested we take a walk and sit outside, and I agreed without thinking. Just being near him made me say yes to things too quickly.

“Why’d you want to sit out tonight?” I asked as he lit a cigarette.

“No reason. Don’t you like it?” he asked casually, smoke curling from his lips.

I nodded. He’d mentioned before that he only smoked occasionally. I didn’t mind. He looked… dangerous when he did it. And for some reason, that made him more attractive.

“Come here. Sit on my lap,” he commanded.

“Why?” I asked, feeling nervous.

“I want to feel your ass,” he said bluntly.

I hesitated, I wanted to. But I felt like I shouldn’t.

“I don’t think I want to,” I murmured.

He leaned closer, looking at me softly. “Come here, I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do… but what if someone sees us?”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re mine.”

That word “mine” melted my resistance. It made me feel chosen. Special. Like I belonged to someone for once.

So I got up and sat on his lap.

It felt thrilling. Like I was living out a forbidden moment from one of my books. The kind I always re-read late at night when I couldn’t sleep.

His fingers moved slowly up my thighs. I shivered.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable. My heart beating in my chest, but not in a good way. I felt like I was slipping out of control.

“I’m not comfortable,” I whispered.

He tilted his head. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that. I just… I don’t feel comfortable here,” I repeated.

He smiled faintly, like he knew exactly what to say next. “Wanna go to my place?”

I should’ve left. That should’ve been my sign. But I didn’t want to seem rude or uptight.

“No, it’s fine—”

My phone rang. Noah.

I jumped, pulling away slightly and answering. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound normal.

“Where are you?” Noah’s asked, concerned.

“I went out to get a few things. Agatha’s coming over to sleep is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Take care.” The call ended.

Ian took one last drag of his cigarette. “Noah’s your brother?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?” I asked, instantly nervous.

If they were close, I needed to back off. Last year, Noah almost got someone arrested just for talking to me.

Ian shrugged. “Yeah. We’ve known each other a while. Nothing deep.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was lying.

“Just buds,” he added, exhaling smoke like it meant nothing.

But something about the way he said it… something in his eyes…

I should’ve walked away.

But I didn’t.