Chapter 1: The Early Bird Gets the Worm
The first sliver of sun caught the lip of Andy’s coffee mug, a blinding line of gold in the quiet kitchen. He stirred slowly, the cinnamon scent of his oatmeal mingling with the dark roast in the air. Thirty-one felt, so far, exactly like thirty. Quiet. Peaceful. A morning to himself before the planned chaos of the evening’s party.
The knock at the door was a soft, insistent tap-tap-tap, utterly at odds with the hour.
He frowned, padding barefoot across the cool hardwood. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe a package. He undid the latch and pulled the door open.
Adri stood there, backlit by the harsh hallway light, a vision of calculated disarray. Her long dark hair was wind-tousled, her cheeks flushed as if from the cold. A long, elegant coat was belted tightly at her waist.
“Adri?” he said, his voice still rough with sleep. “What are you—it’s seven a.m.”
“Happy birthday,” she breathed, and the words were a warm cloud in the space between them. She didn’t wait for an invitation. She stepped forward, forcing him back into the apartment, and shut the door with a quiet click. The sound felt final.
Before he could speak, her hands were on his chest, then sliding up to cup his face. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were dark, serious pools. “I couldn’t wait,” she whispered.
She kissed him.
It wasn’t a question. It was a claim. Her mouth was hot and insistent, tasting of mint and winter air. He made a muffled sound of surprise against her lips, his hands coming up to her shoulders, not pushing away, just steadying himself. The shock of it crackled through his sleep-fogged brain. This was Adri. Lena’s friend. The one who was always teasing, always on the periphery of their group.
She broke the kiss, just enough to speak, her lips brushing his. “I’ve been thinking about this all night. Your present.”
“My present?” he managed, his heart hammering a strange, frantic rhythm against his ribs.
“A private one. Before everyone else gets their hooks in you.” A sly grin touched her mouth. Her fingers went to the knot of her belt. A single, smooth pull and the coat fell open.
Underneath, she wore nothing but a sheer black teddy, lace-edged and fragile-looking against her athletic frame. The morning sun streaming through his windows turned the material almost translucent, outlining every curve, every shadow. He stopped breathing.
“Jesus, Adri.”
“You like it?” She said it like a challenge, her eyes locked on his. She took his hands and placed them on her waist. The lace was coarse under his thumbs, her skin beneath it impossibly warm. “I wanted to be your first birthday wish.”
All the easygoing charm, the casual friendships, the uncomplicated boundaries of his life, crumbled in that sunlit hallway. This was a complication with fire in its eyes. His brain offered feeble protests—Lena, the party, the sheer unexpectedness of it—but they were drowned out by the pounding in his ears and the feel of her under his hands.
He was only human.
He kissed her back, this time with a hunger that surprised them both. She made a soft, triumphant sound and walked him backwards, her mouth never leaving his, until the small of his back hit the kitchen counter. The cold granite bit through his thin t-shirt. The press of her body was a delicious, shocking heat.
“The coffee’s going to burn,” he muttered, turning his head briefly towards the machine’s frantic hiss.
“Let it.” She nipped at his jawline, her hands sliding under his shirt. Her touch was electric, purposeful. “You can make more later.”
He was lost in the sensation, in the sheer audacity of her. She was a force of nature, and he was swept up in her current. She guided him from the kitchen, through the spill of golden light across the living room floor, towards the plush white sofa.
Later, he would remember it in fragments. The feel of the soft upholstery against his bare back. The way the sunlight gilded the sweat on her shoulder as she moved above him. The quiet, intense sounds she made, so different from her usual loud laugh. The faint, floral scent of her perfume mixed with the cinnamon still hanging in the air. It was impulsive, feverish, a secret stolen from the morning.
They lay tangled in the aftermath, the only sound their slowing breaths. She trailed a finger down the center of his chest, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. The sun was higher now, bleaching the room with bright, unflinching light.
“So,” she said, her voice a low, smoky thing. “Best birthday gift ever, or am I going to have to try harder?”
He laughed, a breathless, shaky sound. “It’s… a strong front-runner.”
“Good.” She stretched, catlike, and the lace of the teddy, now torn at one strap, strained. “We should probably clean up. The squad will be here in a few hours to decorate.” She said it with a casual ownership that made his stomach tighten.
The reality of what they’d just done began to seep in, cold and quiet, around the edges of the warmth. He sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Adri…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. Her gaze was steady, confident. “This is our secret. A birthday treat. No one needs to know.”