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So I did what I shouldn't have done—I messaged Alex back.

"You're doing the right thing," James assured me during our break at the restaurant, sliding a plate of baby octopus salad in front of me. "Matt is a dead end. That man knows the art of gaslighting a woman, and you've been gaslighted your whole life, so you don't see it for what it is."

I knew he was right. It was why I'd messaged Alex in the first place. But part of me—the stupid, hopeful part that never seemed to learn—desperately wanted to be wrong about Matt.

Alex had asked me to meet up, suggesting dinner, but I didn't want to be seen in town with someone else. Not when things with Matt were so... undefined. Not when I still held out hopethat he'd call, that he'd have a reasonable explanation, that this time would be different.

Over the past few days, a few things had started to dawn on me. How did Matt know I had opened a Tinder account? Was it because he had his own account? I'd taken to doing some internet detective work of my own, checking out his Facebook account, but found nothing revealing. The man was a ghost online—his account hadn't been updated in over two years, as if he wasn't connected to the digital world at all. I both loved and hated it. How was I supposed to snoop?

It was 11 PM, and I was lying in bed after an exhausting day at work, when a message from Alex came through:

I was thinking, I need to see your face in real life. Can I drive down and pick you up, and we can go for a drive around town?

I was exhausted. But also unable to sleep, my brain a whirlwind that wouldn't stop spinning, taking me down rabbit holes of doubt and insecurity. So I did what I shouldn't do—I said yes.

He replied that he lived in Riverdale, so he'd be at my place in 45 minutes. I hadn't realized how far away he was, but I gave him my address anyway. After waiting 30 minutes in my room, I tiptoed down the hall and out the door, feeling like a teenager sneaking out past curfew. I didn't want to face Haley or Anna's questions about where I was going or who I was meeting.

I walked down the long driveway, dressed in my pyjamas and Ugg boots, no makeup and my hair in a messy bun. I even had my nighttime glasses on because this bitch was blind in the dark. I wasn't going to get dressed up for a man I barely knew. Sure, I'd done it in the past, but I just didn't have the same motivationwhen it came to Alex. It was as if my brain knew this wasn't going anywhere serious.

A loud black pickup truck came down the street and stopped in front of me. I rounded to the passenger side and slid in, finally getting a good look at Alex.

My jaw nearly hit the floor.

He was tall—his head almost touched the roof of the truck—with a lean, muscular body, messy blond hair, and the brightest blue eyes I'd ever seen. His arms had those veins that stood out prominently, making you want to run your fingers along them. Why the fuck was I in my pyjamas?

Gods, I was an idiot.

Alex pressed his lips together, looked me up and down, then laughed. "Get in the car, Geri," he said, and I did what I was told, because fuck me, why would anyone say no to this Adonis?

Once I was buckled up, he took off down the road, following signs to what was called Seabreeze Haven Blowhole—a section of the coastline where water would spout up through a hole in the rocks, creating a spectacular spray. He found a spot in the parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to look at me.

His face was so happy and lit up as he said, "You're a lot more beautiful in real life than in your photos."

I was shocked, certain that was bullshit, but he genuinely looked like he meant it. The sincerity in his eyes made my stomach flutter in a way I hadn't expected.

We sat there talking for what felt like hours. He told me he was a doorman at a hotel in Riverdale and had been there for four years. He worked with his ex and was trying to find a new hotel to take him so he didn't have to see her face anymore. They'd been broken up for seven months, and he just couldn't stand being around her.

He asked about me, and I explained that I was currently being ghosted, again. He laughed and said, "Men can be so cruel. But I'm glad you decided to come out with me."

Then he leaned in to kiss me.

His mouth was warm, and I was hungry for affection, for connection, for something that felt real and present. I wasn't one to cheat, so as I climbed into his lap in the driver's seat, I was shocked at myself. But I'd convinced myself that I wasn't actually in a relationship with Matt. It had been a week of knowing him, and he hadn't truly committed to me anyway. If he had, I would be in his lap right now, not Alex's.

Alex was gentle and sweet, but his mouth wasn't. As his hand went under my top to brush my braless breasts, he groaned and said, "Fuck me, darling. I want to taste you."

And that was it—we went for it. Hands, teeth, and mouths explored each other as he pushed me back into my seat, then climbed over me, sliding the seat as far back as it would go. He pulled down my sleep pants, exposing me to him, and ran his fingers through my wet centre.

"Can I fuck you?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

I nodded, and that was all he needed. He pulled his jeans down and freed himself. Gods, he was big—his cock was like his arms, thick and veiny. I wanted to feel the weight of it on my tongue, but the confined space of the truck wasn't allowing anything too adventurous to happen.

He grabbed a condom from the centre console, rolled it on, and pushed into me, stretching me. I loved the burn it gave me. There was no foreplay involved, just quick and dirty as he slid in and out of me, setting a rhythm that had the truck rocking with each thrust.

He kissed me deeply as he told me how beautiful I was, how tight I felt, how much he was loving this, how he would never get enough. And I gobbled it up, ate all the words he gave me,because I was starved for affection, starved for love, starved for someone to truly want me, and only me.

He picked up his tempo as I neared the edge, my body tightening around him as he swelled inside me. His hand came under my butt and lifted me, changing the angle so that I saw stars as he hit that spot that made me lose control. I came, clamping down on him, and he fucked me harder, harder, until he came himself.

Gods, it felt good. The release, the connection, the momentary escape from my thoughts.