20. Avery

CHAPTER 20

AVERY

The hotel room was as perfect as a glossy travel magazine cover—everything you'd expect from a five-star stay in Tokyo. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the neon-lit skyline, skyscrapers casting their reflections into the bay. The sleek, minimalist decor with its soft gray tones, pristine white king-sized bed, and the glass-walled bathroom screamed luxury. But I barely took it in. I loosened my tie and collapsed onto the plush couch, exhaustion pulling at me. Four days of endless meetings and investor dinners had taken their toll, and for the first time, I was alone.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I stared at Creed's number, tempted by the idea of hearing his voice, the low timbre that still played in my head whenever I closed my eyes. I hesitated, then settled on a message instead.

Me: Hey, you up?

I sent it, staring at the screen, feeling like some lovesick teenager. A few seconds passed, then the familiar three dots popped up. I exhaled, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.

Creed: Yeah, just got back from work.

A wave of relief washed over me, knowing that at least now Creed wouldn't be forced to sleep in his car or scrounge for his next meal. The thought of him out in the cold, wrapped in that fraying jacket of his, twisted something deep inside my chest. But with this job, he could afford a roof over his head, food, a place to clean up—basic things, sure, but essential.

It wasn't enough.

If he'd let me, I could give him so much more. A decent place to stay, some new clothes, whatever he needed. God knew, I had the money to spare. But I knew better than to even suggest it. I'd only known Creed for a short time, but it hadn't taken long to see the pride in him, the fierce independence that burned in his eyes. He'd see my offer as charity, something that threatened the fragile sense of control he was clinging to. He'd hate me for even bringing it up.

So, I swallowed the impulse and tapped out a message, one that wouldn't bruise his pride.

Me: Work, huh? How was it?

And I waited, hoping that whatever he shared would be more than just the bare-bones details.

I imagined him glancing around whatever rundown room he'd managed to find, deciding whether he wanted to share. Then, his reply came in.

Creed: It's alright. Doing construction on this big site downtown. Lots of heavy lifting, concrete, and steel. Not exactly glamorous, but it will pay the bills.

I could almost hear the shrug in his words, the way he brushed off anything that hinted at struggle. But I knew better. There was something unsaid in his message, something lingering just below the surface.

That must be hard work, I typed back, my fingers lingering over the keys before hitting send. You holding up okay?

Another pause. I waited, a dull ache settling in my chest. I wanted to know, needed to know.

Creed: Yeah. It's tough, but it keeps me busy. And it's kind of... satisfying? In a weird way. You know, working with my hands, seeing the progress at the end of the day. But the guys on site... they can be a handful.

I frowned at the screen, my brows drawing together.

Me: A handful?

His response came quicker this time, like he wanted to push past it before I could press too much.

Creed: Just a lot of talk. You know the type. Always got something to say about women, like it's a damn locker room. I just keep my head down and get the job done.

I could practically hear the edge in his voice, the irritation simmering beneath the words. It wasn't hard to imagine how those kinds of conversations might grate on him. I wanted to ask more, wanted to dig into what exactly those guys were saying, how it made him feel, but I held back. This wasn't the time for me to push. Instead, I tried to lighten the mood.

Me: Bet you're the hardest worker there, huh? Showing those guys how it's done.

A few seconds later, his reply appeared.

Creed: Something like that. At least I'm good at hauling stuff around.

I typed, fingers moving quickly across the screen.

Me: I bet you're good at a lot more than that.

I hoped he'd hear the sincerity in my words, the belief I had in him, even if he didn't believe in himself yet.

Creed: Tokyo still treating you like a king?

I chuckled softly, the sound barely more than a breath in the quiet room. I leaned back against the couch, letting myself sink into the cushions, the tension of the day slowly unwinding. The memory of the long weekend when Creed and I played pretend came rushing back—how easy it had been to fall into the role of boyfriends, even when we were both pretending it meant nothing more. Sometimes, though, it felt like it meant everything. Like when we waded into that spring together, Creed's laughter echoing in the stillness of the day. That moment had been… pure. Maybe even perfect.

Me: Something like that. It's not all it's cracked up to be.

I glanced toward the window, where the city lights painted a kaleidoscope of colors across the dark water.

Me: But the view from this hotel room is pretty spectacular.

Creed: Never been to that part of the world. What's it like?

I hesitated, then typed back.

Me: Crowded. Fast. But the city's got this energy, you know? Feels like anything could happen at any moment.

I paused, chewing on my bottom lip before sending the next part.

Me: Wish you were here to see it.

More dots, then his reply.

Creed: Yeah?

Me: Yeah.

I grinned, warmth curling in my chest.

Me: You'd love it here, Creed. Maybe one day you'll see it for yourself.

The thought of sharing this city, this life, with him sparked a longing in me that I hadn't realized was there. I wanted him to see the narrow streets filled with cherry blossoms, the temples nestled between skyscrapers, the quiet peace of the gardens that dotted the city.

Creed: Sounds like a dream come true.

I stared at his message, that six-word message, and something in me nudged, telling me to dig deeper. It felt risky, maybe even too forward, but I typed it out before I could second-guess myself.

Me: Did you end up finding a place to stay?

This time, the pause felt longer. I imagined him frowning at his phone, weighing whether or not to answer me. But then his message appeared.

Creed: Yeah. It's not much. A room in a rundown building, but it's a roof over my head.

A lull settled between us, the screen going quiet. I stared out at the city lights, imagining what it might be like if Creed were here in this room, filling the space that felt too empty.

Then, impulsively, I tapped the FaceTime icon. My pulse quickened as it rang, the seconds stretching out like a tightrope. I half expected him not to answer, but then the screen shifted, and there he was.

Creed blinked at me, his face filling my screen, framed by the shadows of what looked like a cramped room. He wore a beanie—navy blue, a little worn at the edges—pulled low over his ears, and a smudge of dirt stained his cheek. It made him look rougher, yet so achingly familiar. My breath caught in my throat. He looked... good. Really good.

"Hey," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. It was strange, seeing him like this. I'd had his mouth on mine, tasted his breath, sucked his dick, but now he seemed shy, his eyes darting away from the screen as if unsure where to look.

I leaned closer, propping my elbow on my knee. "Hey yourself. You look like you just came out of a photoshoot for rugged men's wear."

He snorted, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, right. You should see me covered in sawdust and sweat."

"Now you're just trying to get me hot and bothered." I gave him a lazy grin, enjoying the flush that crept up his neck, warming his cheeks. He adjusted the beanie, tugging it lower, but I could still see the pink tinge spreading across his skin.

A moment of silence stretched between us, and I just drank him in, memorizing every detail of his face. He looked tired, but there was something else there, too—something softer, more vulnerable than I'd seen in him before."I miss you," I found myself admitting, the words slipping out before I could stop them. His eyes flicked back to the screen, widening slightly, but he didn't look away this time.

"Yeah?" He ducked his head, but I caught the small, shy smile tugging at his lips. "I—yeah, me too."

I wanted to reach through the screen and pull him into this room, hold him close, let him see that he didn't have to keep hiding, that he didn't have to be afraid. But for now, this would have to be enough. I leaned back, my smile lingering as I watched him.

"Can't wait to see you again, Creed," I murmured, my voice dropping, letting the truth seep into the words. His blush deepened, and it sent a rush of warmth through me, knowing I could still get to him like this, even after everything.

"Yeah," he breathed out, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Me too, Ave. Me too."