Alright, you want some old-man romance? Fine, buckle the f*** up.

That night, after the whole Mark debacle, Gordon and I were back at his place. It was quiet—too quiet, honestly. We were both nursing glasses of whiskey because, let’s face it, nothing says screw the drama like a stiff drink.

I was sitting on the couch, swirling my glass and staring at the amber liquid like it held the f***ing secrets of the universe. Gordon was across the room, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching me. He had that look—half amused, half curious, like he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on in my head.

“Alright, Chase,” he said, breaking the silence. “What’s eating at you?”

I sighed, setting my glass down on the coffee table. “It’s just… Mark showing up like that, it stirred up some s*** I wasn’t ready to deal with.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like how I used to think he was it for me,” I admitted, my voice low. “I thought he was the one, you know? And then he left, and I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone else. But then you showed up, and now I’m sitting here thinking, What the f** did I ever see in that guy?*”

He smirked, walking over and sitting next to me. “Maybe you needed to go through that to appreciate what you’ve got now.”

I turned to look at him, his blue eyes catching the soft glow of the lamp. “You’re not wrong. You usually aren’t, which is annoying as hell.”

He chuckled, setting his glass aside. “Part of my charm.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, leaning closer, “your charm is gonna get you into trouble one of these days.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to send a little shiver down my spine.

“Maybe,” I said, and before I could overthink it, I leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant, not this time. No, this was full-on, grab-your-shirt-and-pull-you-close territory. I could feel his hands slide up to the back of my head, his fingers brushing over the bare skin like he was mapping it out. And let me tell you, if there’s one thing Gordon knows how to do, it’s kiss.

He shifted, pressing closer until I was practically lying back on the couch, his weight settling over me. My hands found his waist, pulling him in tighter because, f*** it, why not? This wasn’t some sappy, gentle moment; it was raw and real and exactly what I needed after the s***storm of the day.

“You’re gonna wrinkle my shirt,” he muttered against my mouth, his breath warm and teasing.

“Good,” I shot back, tugging him closer. “You look too perfect anyway. It’s f***ing unfair.”

He laughed, and I felt the sound more than heard it, the vibration running through both of us. And then he kissed me again, slower this time, like he was savoring every second. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise. One that said, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” I said, my voice rough but full of affection.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “But I’m your pain in the ass.”

And damn it, he was right.