Chapter 4: The Unexpected Visitor
The rain had softened to a gentle mist by the time I parked behind the sleek black Audi in Taek’s driveway.My heart did a funny little stutter-step.I knew that car. The last text from Jess blinked in my memory: Tried calling.You’re alive, right? I’d meant to call her back.I’d gotten… distracted.
The front porch light cast a warm amber halo through the drizzle. I could hear the faint creak of the swing even from my car. Taking a deep breath of damp earth and petrichor, I grabbed the six-pack of local IPA I’d picked up and made a dash for the covered porch.
Before I could knock, the door swung open.
Taek stood there, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, his expression a priceless mix of amusement and sheer panic. Behind him, the warm, wood-scented air of the house was filled with Billie Eilish and the sound of a cork being pulled.
“She ambushed me,” he said in a low, rushed voice. “I was braising short ribs.The doorbell rang. It was her.”
“Hey, loser!” Jess’s voice sang out from the living room.“Get in here! I’ve opened the good stuff!”
I stepped past Taek, my sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. Jess was perched on Taek’s deep green sofa, looking utterly at home. She’d kicked off her heels and tucked her feet beneath her. A bottle of Malbec and three mismatched glasses sat on the rustic coffee table he’d made.“Jess,” I said, setting the beer on the counter. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” She grinned, a flash of white in the low light.“My best friend vanishes after a catastrophic breakup and an incredible hook up with her other best friend. She doesn’t answer my calls. Then I get a cryptic text that just says, ‘we talked it's getting better.’ Naturally, I assumed you two beast didn't got out of bed for weeks. I had to investigate.”
Taek hovered by the kitchen island, looking like he wanted to flee into his workshop.“I offered her dinner,” he said helplessly. “She said yes.” and I looked at him and said "Don't listen to a word she says"
“Damn right I said yes.” Jess poured a generous glass of wine and handed it to me as I sat in the armchair opposite her.“I needed to see this for myself. This man finally got through that thick skull of yours.” Her eyes flicked to Taek, sparkling with mischief. “And let me say, Taek, you clean up nice. But you look like you’re waiting for a root canal.Relax.I won't bite you. For now.”
He ran a hand through his tousled hair and gave a strained smile. “Just making sure the short ribs don’t burn.Excuse me.” He escaped back to the kitchen.
Jess watched him go, then leaned forward, her voice dropping to a stage whisper.“Okay.Details. Start with the meeting in a public place that ended up to bed(wink)”
“Jess,” I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. The wine glass was cool against my forehead.“Nope.No hiding.You ghosted me for weeks. You owe me this. ?”
I took a long sip of wine, buying time. The rich, oaky taste grounded me. From the kitchen, the rhythmic chop of a knife against a cutting board provided a steady beat.
“Alright, you sneaky, dirty-minded creature,” I began, pulling my legs up into the chair. “But you’re getting the PG-13 version.” I shot a look toward Taek’s broad back as he stirred something that smelled like caramelized onions and heaven. “Because he can hear everything.”
“Music to my ears!” Taek called out without turning around, the faint smile evident in his voice.
Jess wiggled her fingers in a gimme motion.“Start from the coffee shop. The ‘talk.’ I know there was a talk.”
So I told her. I described the cold mug in my hands, the terror of ruining the best thing in my life. I told her about his hand covering mine, his voice low and certain in the hum of the shop. The friendship is the foundation, not the cage. I skipped the visceral details of what came after, but my face grew warm remembering the press of his body against mine in his workshop doorway, the taste of whiskey and desperate hope.
“He said he’d been in love with me for years,” I murmured, the words still foreign and powerful on my tongue.“And I believed him. I finally believed something.”
Jess’s teasing expression had softened into something thoughtful and intense.She listened, refilling my glass when it dipped below halfway.
I explained the deliberate slowness of it all.The real date. How we were choosing each other, awake and aware, not just falling into bed from sheer proximity and heartbreak. “It doesn’t feel like a rebound,” I finished, my voice firmer now. “It feels like… calibration. Like my compass was broken and now it’s finally pointing true.”
From the kitchen, the sizzle of meat hitting a hot pan erupted, followed by Taek’s soft curse. Jess’s eyes flicked toward the sound, then back to me, a slow smile spreading.
“The man’s making you braised short ribs,” she stated flatly, as if this was the most conclusive evidence of all.“He doesn’t just want to sleep with you, Alex. He’s courting you.With a braise. That’s a six-hour commitment.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, bright and surprised. “He’s a good cook.”
“He’s a good everything,” Jess corrected, her tone losing its levity. She leaned forward again.“And you’re okay? Not just… mistaking comfort for something else?”
I thought of his hands, so careful on my skin. The way he watched my face in the lamplight.The absolute lack of goodbye.
“No,” I said, with a certainty that surprised us both.“I’m not mistaking anything.”
Jess nodded, seemingly satisfied. She unfolded herself from the couch and padded into the kitchen.I watched her corner Taek by the stove. She said something I couldn’t hear over the simmering pots.
He listened, wooden spoon in hand, his posture wary but open. Then Jess reached up and pulled him down into a fierce, brief hug.When she whispered in his ear, his ears turned a dark, unmistakable pink. He glanced at me over her shoulder, a vulnerable, flustered smile on his face.
“You.Hurt her, and I know a guy who can make a body disappear into a very deep lake.No one misses a shitty Audi.”
Taek didn’t laugh. He met her gaze squarely, all traces of amusement gone. “Understood.”
Jess’s expression finally softened completely.She kissed my cheek.“He gets the seal of approval. Reluctantly, because he hogged you for weeks.”
“She’s terrifying,” he said after a moment.“She’s the best,” I replied, walking toward him.
He caught me around the waist, pulling me into the warmth of his chest. He buried his face in my hair and let out a long, exaggerated breath. “Interrogation’s over.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, inhaling the scent of woodsmoke, garlic, and him. “What did she whisper to you?”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his black eyes warm. “That if I was just a placeholder, she’d cut my brakes. And that I better be worth the radio silence.”
“And you said?”
He kissed my forehead. “I said you were always the main event. And that the silence was over.” His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly,breaking the tension.He grinned, that boyish, easy grin I’d known for years. “Now, can I please feed you? I’ve been stressing over this braise for hours.”
He steered me toward the small dining table, already set with simple stoneware.“Sit.You’re on plating duty.” He handed me the warm dishes, his fingers brushing mine in a familiar, electric transfer.The rich, savory scent of the braised meat filled the space between us, a delicious counterpoint to the lingering wine.
Jess reclaimed her spot, watching us move around each other with an anthropologist's keen eye. It was a mundane ballet—him pulling the ribs from the oven, me spooning creamy polenta onto plates—but performed under a new spotlight.“You two are kind of disgustingly synchronized,” she observed, topping up her glass.
“Years of practice,” Taek said, setting the Dutch oven in the center of the table.The short ribs were glistening, nestled in a deep burgundy reduction. “Mostly involving takeout boxes and me stealing her fries.”
“The foundation of any great romance,” Jess deadpanned, but her smile was genuine.Dinner was a surreal blend of normalcy and interrogation. The short ribs were incredible, falling off the bone at the slightest touch of a fork.The meat melted into the rich, wine-laced sauce, a testament to Taek’s patient hours at the stove. Jess kept the wine flowing and the questions coming, but they gentled, shifting from teasing to genuine.
“So, are you telling people?” she asked, swirling her wine.“Or is this a secret bunker situation?”
Alex speared a piece of meat, avoiding Taek’s eyes. “We’re… not hiding. It’s just new.We wanted a minute to figure it out ourselves before it became everyone’s business.”
“Which,” Jess pointed her fork at Taek, “means you haven’t told Leo yet.”
Taek grimaced, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.“My brother has the subtlety of a foghorn. One congratulatory text from him and the entire east coast family tree would know.” He reached for Alex’s hand under the table, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. “We’ll tell him soon.We’re getting there.”
Jess watched the gesture, her expression softening further.“Good.” She shifted topics, asking Alex about a new music sample she’d been fighting with, pulling Taek into a debate about the best brand of chisels. The conversation ebbed and flowed, relaxing into the easy, three-way rhythm they’d always had, just with a new current running beneath it.
By the time the plates were cleared and the second bottle of wine was half-gone, Jess was yawning. “I’ve seen enough,” she announced, stretching.“The food is excellent.The dynamic is… startlingly healthy.I no longer fear for your immediate well-being.” She stood, collecting her purse.
At the door, she hugged Alex tightly.“I’m happy for you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against Alex’s shoulder.“Scared for you, because it’s huge. But happy.” Pulling back, she leveled a look at Taek, who had come to see her out.“You.” She poked him in the chest.“You remember the guy with the lake.”
“The lake is permanently etched in my memory,” he said, his tone solemn though his eyes sparkled.
“Good.” Jess stepped out into the cool, misty night, then turned back, her smirk returning.“Don’t wait so long to answer your phone next time, lovebirds. Some of us worry.”
Then she was gone, the sound of her Audi purring to life breaking the quiet before it faded down the street.
Taek locked the door, leaning against it with a long, exaggerated exhale.He ran both hands through his hair.“I feel like I just passed a final exam I didn’t know I was taking.”
Alex walked over and slid her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. She could feel the steady, reassuring thump of his heart under her ear.“You got an A+.The braise was extra credit.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. His arms wrapped around her, warm and solid.“I’m glad she came.” He kissed the top of her head.“It makes it real. Out there.”
They stood like that for a long moment, listening to the quiet house, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the drip of a faucet in the kitchen.The interrogation was over.The seal was approved. The world outside, in the form of Jess, had officially been let in.
“Help me with these dishes?” he murmured into her hair.“Then I want to show you something in the workshop. A new project.”
She tilted her head back to look at him.“At ten o’clock on a Thursday?”
“You have a better offer?” His smile was a slow, tempting curve.
She didn’t.They cleaned the kitchen together, their hips bumping at the sink, his soapy hands brushing hers.The domesticity of it was both thrilling and profoundly calm.This was the foundation.Not the cage.
After wiping down the counters, he took her hand and led her through the side door into his workshop. The air was cooler here, smelling sharply of pine and tung oil. He flicked on the low task light over his main workbench.
There, amid the usual landscape of clamps and planes, lay a long, slender piece of claro walnut. It was only roughly shaped, but the grain was a hypnotic swirl of deep browns and golds.“It’s for a client,” he said, running a hand over the smooth wood.“A guitar neck.”
He picked up a small, curved scraping tool.“But first, I have to refine this curve. It has to be perfect.” He glanced at her, his eyes dark and intent in the pooled light.“It’s a precise, tedious job.Hours of tiny adjustments. Most people find it boring.”
Alex watched his hands, those strong, capable hands that had
already mapped her body with such shocking intimacy. The memory of that first night here crashed over her, not as a vague recollection but as a physical echo. The bite of whiskey, the rough plywood against her back, the desperate, grateful way she’d kissed him.It hadn’t been boring then. It wasn’t boring now.
The workshop air, thick with the scent of sawdust and male sweat, was the same.The focused hunch of his shoulders was the same. But now she knew the weight of him, the taste of his skin, the guttural sounds he made when he was buried inside her.Heat pooled low in her belly, a slow, insistent throb.
“I don’t find it boring,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.
He glanced up, the scraping tool pausing.A faint smile touched his lips. “No?”
“No.” She moved closer, her socked feet silent on the concrete floor. She stopped behind him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Her eyes traced the corded muscles of his forearm as he worked the wood. “I like watching your hands.”
He resumed his work, the careful scrape-scrape-scrape filling the quiet. “They’re just hands.”
“They’re not.” Her own hand lifted, hovering just above the slope of his shoulder. She remembered the exact pressure of those hands holding her hips down. “They know how to do things.”
His breathing hitched, just slightly.The tool slowed. “Alex.”
“You told me to come here if I panicked,” she murmured, her fingers finally making contact, tracing the seam of his flannel shirt. “I’m not panicking. I’m something else entirely.”
He put the tool down with a definitive click.He didn’t turn around. “What are you?”
“I’m remembering.” Her other hand came up, sliding around his waist, palm flattening against the hard plane of his stomach.She pressed her body against his back, feeling him tense. “The way you pushed into me right over there.” She nodded toward the clear space by the lumber rack. “How you tasted like the whiskey we’d shared. How you fucked me like you were trying to erase every bad thing that ever happened to me.”
A sharp, ragged inhale tore from him. His hands came down, gripping the edge of the workbench, his knuckles white. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“It’s not a game.” She nipped at the back of his neck, her teeth scraping the sensitive skin. Her hand slid lower, over the front of his jeans, finding him already hard and thick beneath the denim. She palmed him, a firm, claiming stroke.“I want my mouth on you. Right now.”
He spun so fast it made her gasp.His eyes were black fire, his control visibly shredding. He backed her up against the heavy worktable, his hands landing on either side of her, caging her in.“Here? Like this?”
“Yes.” The word was a challenge, soaked in want.
A groan ripped from his throat. He kissed her, a devouring, messy clash of tongues and teeth that tasted of conquest and wild need. His hands dropped to the button of her jeans, wrenching it open, yanking them and her panties down her thighs in one rough motion. The cool air kissed her skin, followed by the scorching heat of his palm cupping her.
He rubbed his thumb over her clit, making her jerk. “You’re soaked.”
“For you.” She fumbled with his belt, her fingers clumsy. “I watched you sand that fucking wood and all I could think about was you taking me on the counter”
He helped her, shoving his jeans and briefs down just enough. His erection sprung free, heavy and flushed. He spat into his own hand, slicking himself, the crude sound unbearably erotic.He hooked one of her legs over his hip, aligning their bodies.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice a gritty rasp.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his blazing gaze.
He pushed into her, not with patient care, but with a single, deep, devastating thrust that stole the air from her lungs.She cried out, her head falling back against the table. He filled her completely, a stark, perfect invasion that resonated in her bones.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead dropping to her shoulder.He was shaking. “Every time… it feels like the first time.”
Then he began to move. There was no gentle rhythm, only a raw, driving pace that had the table scraping against the concrete floor with each pound of his hips. His grip on her thigh was vise-tight. The sounds were obscene—skin slapping skin, their mingled, ragged panting, the creak of old wood under strain.
“Harder,” she choked out, clawing at his back. “Please, Taek.”
He swore, a filthy, beautiful string of words, and obeyed. His thrusts became punishing, each one jolting through her, hitting a spot deep inside that blurred her vision.She was wound so tight, every nerve screaming. The friction, the sheer relentless force of him, was building a coil of pure sensation low in her gut.“I’m gonna come,” she gasped, the words ripped from her. “Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”
He drove into her, deep and hard, and held there as she shattered. The orgasm tore through her, violent and consuming, white noise roaring in her ears as her body convulsed around him. He watched her face, his own a mask of strained ecstasy, until her cries subsided into whimpers.
Only then did he allow himself to chase his own release.His pace turned frantic, his rhythm breaking. With a guttural shout that echoed off the high ceilings, he spilled into her, his whole body seizing, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise.
They collapsed against the table, a tangled, sweating heap, his weight a welcome anchor.His breath was hot and harsh against her neck. The workshop smell was now layered with the scent of sex and satisfaction.Slowly, the world filtered back in. The hum of the dormant saws.A car passing outside.The painful, wonderful ache between her legs.
He finally lifted his head.He looked wrecked, beautiful. He brushed a damp curl from her forehead, his touch unbearably tender after the fury. “So,” he said, his voice shot.“Not boring, then.”
A weak laugh bubbled out of her. “Not even a little.”
He helped her stand, her legs trembling. They dressed in a quiet, sated silence, the earlier urgency replaced by a deep, resonant calm. He finished buttoning his shirt, his eyes on the forgotten guitar neck.
“You’ve ruined my concentration for the night,” he said, but he was smiling.“Good.” She took his hand, lacing their fingers together. The calluses scratched familiarly against her skin.“Take me to bed.For real this time. Not against a door.Not over a table. A bed.”
He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Your wish,” he said, “is my extremely willing command.”