All Chapters of Appealing To His Gaze : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

AIDEN'S POV.I parked in front of Marcus's building, holding onto the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. My chest felt like a tight twisting cage. Every beat pounded against my ribs as if it wanted to break free and drag my lungs along with it. The night air was thick and heavy, full of the smell of the city, but I barely felt it. My mind felt like a hurricane. Hesitation scratched at me, its sharp nails scraping over bone. Should I knock? Should I turn the key, back out, and speed back to Devin's apartment? Or should I face Marcus, my first real, consistent love, the only one ever to have known me when I was small, invisible, and broken behind rich-boy masks?I was trembling. My chest was burning, my stomach churning. I had lied to Devin. Lied with every syllable about being busy at the gallery. Every time I'd texted back with excuses, it felt like a dagger twisting deeper inside me, but it hadn't stopped me from leaving, from driving here, because I couldn't-couldn't-ign

DEVIN'S POV.I woke up with that weight in my chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment-the kind of heaviness that sank into my shoulders before I even sat up. The alarm felt louder than usual, the vibration of it rattling against the nightstand in a way that shot straight into my nerves. Stella shifted beside me, half-asleep, murmuring my name as if asking whether I was getting up, but I barely muttered out a response before swinging my legs out of the bed. My body was tense in a way I couldn't shake off, like I'd been lying in one position too long, but that had nothing to do with sleep. It was the remnants of last night crawling under my skin. Too many memories coming back all at once crowded my head: the gallery lights dimmed, the guard's expression, Aiden's number going straight to voicemail, Marcus's voice sliding through the phone with that smug tone that made my blood spike, the drive home where every streetlight blurred because all I could think about was Aiden being so

TIMONE'S POVSomething was off. Off enough that even in my half-hungover, post-championship haze, I felt the chill crawl up my spine when Devin stuttered.We were walking home after the company's announcement, i lived alone, and somehow Devin had spoken to me about Stella's travel on a girls trip, she seemed to be excited about it and devin said he didn't want to stay home, it was after we'd gotten drunk as two best friends did he admit it all to me, saying all about his sexuality and the fact that Aiden and him had barely spoken. Had barely breathed. He'd gone pale as fuck when some random lokalike of Aiden had walked into the comoany in search of a job And Devin? Fuck. He froze.I asked him—just casually, like any best friend would—where the hell he'd disappeared to the night before after we got trashed. He stammered. Said something about "needing air." Then he wouldn’t look at me again. I wouldn't look at anyone really. But when the boy Byron poked? Devin looked like he was being s

DEVIN'S POV I should’ve gone home. Should’ve gone straight to the kitchen, stuffed my face with leftovers, taken a long shower, and ignored every fucking impulse crawling under my skin like it was trying to eat its way out. But instead, here I was—sweaty from the jog, chest still rising and falling heavy—and standing across the street from Byron Riley’s apartment like some psycho with no life.I didn’t even remember how I ended up here. My feet had dragged me across half the neighborhood like they had a mind of their own. One minute I was thinking about drills, about Timone’s face when the Employee showed up—about his face—and the next, I was meters away from the stupid perfectly manicured driveway of a stupid luxury apartment complex where that stupid, cocky bastard lived.Last time I did this shit, it was with Aiden. And now I was stalking Byron fucking Riley. Jesus Christ.Right on cue, a black car slid into the driveway, smooth as hell like it belonged in a commercial. Byron s

AIDEN'S POV.I didn’t even feel my legs carrying me. Just one minute I was on the running, adrenaline still clinging to my skin, that fucking voice still crawling down my spine, and the next I was half-running down the room heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.I needed to wash this off. All of it. His voice, my own shame, the sticky patch in my boxers I could feel cooling against my thigh. The second I hit the stall, I kicked the door shut behind me and yanked my hoodie over my head. My fingers were still trembling. I fumbled with the zipper of my jeans, swearing under my breath as it snagged once—twice—then finally gave way. My hands dove inside and Fuck. I winced. The dried mess clung to my skin, uncomfortable and humiliating, a smear of what the hell just happened all over me. I pulled everything down—boxers and jeans in one shove—and stepped out of them like they were a crime scene.There it was. The proof. My cock half-soft, glistening at the tip, streaks of cum s