"I have something for you."

Abel pulled his car to a stop and twisted around, reaching into the backseat to grab something. There was some rustling, and then a few seconds later, he returned to his seat holding a box of chocolates.

"Oh my God, those are for me?" Chevelle asked, unable to wipe the smile from her lips as she looked up at him.

Abel nodded, chuckling both at Chevelle's reaction to her gift, and in disbelief of how mesmerizing her smile was. How she always smiled with her entire self—all her teeth, all her joy, and none of the caution. Smiling back at her was the only way Abel could keep his jaw from falling to ground.

"Also, this."

He brought out the hand he'd been hiding behind his back, revealing a dark green beanie with the softest wool Chevelle had ever felt in her life. He gave the gifts to Chevelle with a smile, and as she took them, she found herself moved almost to the point of tears. These were the only birthday gifts she'd received this year, but honestly, they were perfect. She didn't need much more than this.

"Wow," Chevelle said, her gratitude overflowing. "This is so sweet, thank you."

Abel smiled. "Anytime."

She put the beanie on and looked at herself in the rearview mirror, laughing when she saw the way it swallowed her entire head. It didn't look bad per se, but it was definitely a statement. She turned to Abel, trying to hold back her laughter, but as soon as their eyes met, they both burst into fits of laughter, filling the car with the melodious sound. A couple tears were shed amidst the shrieks and giggles, and finally, Chevelle had to take off the beanie so they could both catch their breath.

"I think it's kind of cute," Abel finally said, which threw them both into new fits of roaring laughter.

"Don't lie to me," Chevelle said, still giggling.

"I'm not lying," he insisted, trying his best to fight the smile tugging at his lips.

It was definitely funny seeing Chevelle in such a big beanie, but Abel honestly still thought she looked good. The green complimented her dark brown skin so beautifully. She looked like a forest in the summertime. In her smooth, glistening skin, it was like he could see every single shade of brown that ever was.

So, he may have gone a few sizes too big, sue him. Chevelle still managed to pull it off and make his palms sweat a little. At this point, he was convinced she could pull off a sack of rice if she wanted to.

"Please, I look like a cartoon character," Chevelle muttered.

"Oh shit, wait...that one from Looney Tunes?" Abel asked, a smile teasing his lips as he tried to remember the character's name.

"God, don't even say it," Chevelle begged, holding up a hand to stop him before they burst another fit of laughter.

Abel made a show of locking his lips and throwing the key out the window, and Chevelle rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her lips.

"Regardless," she said, "thank you for this. I'm definitely going to wear it a lot. This is the softest beanie I've ever owned," she admitted. "Also, I didn't realize how cold my head would get in the winter, so good looking out. I now see why men are always wearing hats."

This was Chevelle's first winter since she'd shaved her head. During the summer, it had been lifechanging being able to feel the cool breeze on her head during a hot day. Being able to take warm showers and let the water massage her scalp directly. Sometime around October, though, things quickly changed. Once the days began to get colder, shorter, and cloudier, she could no longer step foot outside without multiple hoods on—or at the very least, some scarves. It was a little better down here in her parents' city, but where she lived, it was much colder, and so this beanie from Abel was a godsend. It was thicker and warmer than all three of the beanies she currently owned, and it was soft as fuck. So she looked a little bit like Marvin the Martian, so what?

"Yeah, I figured you might need one since with the way the weather's been changing, winter probably hasn't even started yet."

"Very true," Chevelle said. "But also, I can't believe you got me two presents. I feel so bad. I didn't even think to get you something."

Abel chuckled, shaking his head. "No, please don't feel bad," he told her. "You've had a lot going on, and I wanted to do this."

Smiling to herself, Chevelle nodded, deciding for once to just let others do nice things for her. To not feel guilty for receiving love. Because that's what this was. They may not have been "in love" with each other, but there was a lot of love shared between the two of them, and they could both feel it. And Chevelle found herself astonished once again by how thoughtful Abel was. Even in such small ways. Something as simple as a box of chocolates, a beanie for the winter. Chevelle aspired to be like that—to be so caring and attentive that she was able to anticipate the wants and needs of her loved ones. To do things for them just because she wanted to. Because she could. Because that's what really mattered more than any present itself. It was the fact that she had been on his mind. That Abel had thought of Chevelle while she was away and had wondered what he could do to make her day a little better—to make her life a little easier. The fact that he'd gone out of his way to make it happen. It was things like this that made Chevelle realize she was worth these nice things—worth being cared for so thoughtfully. It made her realize that she didn't have to settle for the bare minimum even when the world tried to convince her otherwise.

And Abel, who was watching Chevelle intently, could see that despite her gratitude, she still felt a little guilty for not thinking to get him anything. Or maybe guilt wasn't the right word...it was more like she seemed disappointed in herself. Regretful.

He hadn't expected Chevelle to get him something, and he honestly didn't want anything. He just wanted to spend time with her; her mere presence was a gift in and of itself. Plus, Abel knew how much she already had on her plate—all the bullshit she was dealing with on a daily basis—and so he wanted to do everything he could to take her mind off of it, even if it was only temporarily.

Abel groaned exaggeratedly and Chevelle turned to him with a frown. "Fine," he said. "If you absolutely have to give me something, then okay."

Chevelle raised a brow at him, and Abel smiled, tapping his cheek.

"Right here," he said, tilting to the side to give her access.

Chevelle laughed, but instead of kissing Abel's cheek like he'd requested, she gripped his chin and pulled him to her, not even giving his eyes time to close before her tongue was inside his mouth, tasting the remnants of whatever spicy food he'd eaten for dinner.

She kissed him, softly, and then she let him go, a cheeky smile on her lips as she pulled away.

"You're so delicious," Abel whispered, his eyes and his voice both dangerously low.

Chevelle bit her lip and watched Abel follow the entire movement with his eyes. "Wait until you taste the rest of me," she said. And then she turned and exited the car, leaving Abel staring after her, hungry and aroused.

Abel took a breath, chuckling amusedly to himself as he exited the car. He loved how he never knew what to expect with Chevelle. How every day was a surprise, but it was always a good one. Exactly how he liked it.

When Abel came around the car and saw Chevelle standing by his porch steps in all her glory, he stopped in his tracks, absolutely stunned.

It was hard to admire how truly breathtaking she looked from the front seat of his car, but now...he was bewitched. And yes, he had seen Chevelle earlier as she and her family were exiting Le Château Moelleux, but there had been a lot going on back then. From her hyperventilating mother to her worried siblings to the way her father had been looking at Abel like he was some serial killer, he had been actively trying not to let his eyes fall on Chevelle's body.

And then there was Jared. Abel didn't know what he'd been expecting Chevelle's notorious ex to look like, but seeing him for real—seeing how fucking regular he looked—was weird. Honestly, Abel hadn't even been sure that he was Chevelle's ex at first. He'd thought it was some random white guy exiting the restaurant at the same time as them; it was only when they made eye contact that he was sure.

The way Jared looked at Abel had given him pause. It was the kind of look that let Abel know Jared didn't want him to be alone with Chevelle. And knowing all the shit Jared had put her through (and was still putting her through), his motivations were clear. Abel had met tons of men like Jared before. Wicked men. Men who felt like women were their property. Like they had some sort of claim over all the women they'd been with in the past. Men who fought for that claim. Who assumed every other man was the same as them. Demanded it. Men who knew how to manipulate. How to mess with women's minds until they began to even question themselves.

Jared wanted to prance around Chevelle's house flaunting his relationship with her sister in Chevelle's face, but at the same time, he didn't want Chevelle to move on and find someone else. He wanted her to remain stuck on him forever, trapped in a vicious cycle. And he wanted that more than he actually wanted her sister. It was the control—the power—that fed him. Not love. Abel only had to look into his eyes once to see that much.

And actually seeing Jared with his own eyes, Abel became more determined than before to keep Chevelle out of that house and away from him. To keep her here, where she was appreciated. Where he could admire her properly. Take his time to savor the sleek black of the dress she had on. The way it hugged her curves like that—tight in all the right places. The way the entire stomach was cut out in a teardrop shape, commanding his attention to her navel. Provoking his imagination to wander even lower.

Abel took Chevelle's hand and, slowly, he spun her around so he could examine her in full. He murmured something about how sexy she was, and Chevelle giggled as she twirled around, but when she faced Abel again and saw the look in his eyes, it wiped the smile right off of her lips. All she could think about was how different this was from earlier when Jared had ogled her at the back of the restaurant. Sure, Jared's gaze had made her nervous and bashful, but Abel's gaze...it set her ablaze.

The way his eyes clung to her body as he looked at her...it made her feel like the sexiest thing on the planet. She could see something primal in Abel's eyes—something brazen—and it set a new tone for the night.

Neither of them had to say it; they both knew that their real birthday presents had yet to be unwrapped.

When they entered Abel's house, the light was low and they kept it that way. Because of the special lights Abel had for his plants, the entire house was tinted with a purplepink hue, and Chevelle actually liked it better this way. There was something different in the air around them—something abuzz. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other as they made their way inside, ending up in the kitchen for some water that they both desperately needed.

Their gazes remained locked as they sipped on their icy drinks. They stood across from each other, on either side of the kitchen island, neither of them speaking, but still, sharing an understanding. Admiring how the low light danced on the other's skin. Appreciating the way water quenched a dry throat like nothing else could—both of them understanding each other's predicament. How they both looked so edible. How it was hard to be so close to such a sight without one's throat drying up.

They knew this was the calm before the storm—and not a peaceful calm, an expectant one. A silence filled with electricity. Chevelle could feel it humming in her veins. She set down her glass and approached Abel, keeping her eyes on his as she sauntered around the island, stopping in front of him.

Abel put down his water and faced Chevelle fully, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. They took note of the odd, flickering shadows flashing across each other's faces. Of the way their breathing had synced up—how it felt like they were now sharing one breath. Breathing together as one larger, interconnected being.

Slowly, they drifted closer and closer, until finally, when they were so close that their chests brushed together on every inhale, Abel spoke.

"Happy birthday, Chevelle."

He murmured the words just below his breath, and were they not standing as close to each other as they were, Chevelle may not have heard him.

She looked up into Abel's eyes, and strangely, didn't feel the need to avert her gaze when he met it. Something about the look in his eyes felt comfortable. For once, instead of making her feel watched, being looked at so closely made Chevelle feel seen. She didn't want this moment to end.

"Happy birthday, Abel," she whispered, painfully aware of his hand that was now delicately snaking its way around her waist. She held her breath as Abel reached his free hand up towards her face and caressed her cheek gently with his thumb. Chevelle smiled, allowing her eyes to fall shut as she rested her head in his palm. "This is dangerous," she said.

"What is?"

She could hear the amusement in Abel's voice, but behind that, she could also hear the way it had shaken a little. The way he'd known exactly what she was talking about before she had even said it.

"This," Chevelle repeated, opening her eyes. "The way we interact..." She rested her gaze on Abel's searching eyes. "The way you make me feel."

Abel's gaze grew dark. Scorching. He took a slow breath, in and out, and Chevelle tried her hardest not to melt in his arms. Fastening his grip on Chevelle's waist, he leaned in closer, a dare in his eyes. "How do I make you feel?" he asked.

Chevelle's gaze dropped to Abel's lips that sat slightly parted, waiting for her reply. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and then bit down on it, causing Chevelle to take in a sharp breath that got caught somewhere in her throat. Abel's own eyes were flickering back and forth from Chevelle's lips to her eyes, and the look in them made her want to rip the shirt from his chest right then. And the most beautiful part about it, was that she knew she absolutely could.

If she actually tried to rip Abel's clothes off of him in that moment, nobody would stop her. Not even Abel.

She didn't know how to answer his question. How did he make her feel?

He made her feel like her chest wasn't constantly crumbling into itself. Or like she could move spiritfirst—laugh as loud as she wanted, argue about the stupidest things, care about shit that nobody else cared about—and it would never be too much for him. He made her feel like she could let go of the million and one things she was always holding on to. The little things that dragged her back down even on her good days.

He made her feel like she was free. Like she was loved.

But she didn't know how to tell him this in a way that wouldn't overwhelm. In a way that acknowledged the fact that their relationship was on a timer. That she would be leaving in a few days, whether she wanted to or not.

"I don't know," Chevelle finally said, gripping the fabric of Abel's shirt and leaning in close so that her breath fanned his skin as she spoke. "I just know that I'm not ready to leave you yet," she finished, and Abel smiled down at her. A small, sad smile that broke Chevelle's heart.

"Yeah," he breathed. "You and me both."

And Chevelle could see in Abel's eyes, wild and stormy, that he meant it. He wasn't ready for her to leave either. He wanted more time—time to learn each other better. To discover what they could be.

Chevelle stepped back and looked at Abel, still not understanding how it was possible to do that. To be so aggressively beautiful—so intoxicating. It was like every time she saw him, he was twice as fine as the last time she'd seen him, as impossible as it sounds.

Turning around, Chevelle brought a hand to the back of her neck. To the small metal hook holding her dress together. She glanced over her shoulder at Abel, the shadow of a smile on her lips.

"Help me out?" she asked, and a few moments later, Chevelle felt his hands on her shoulders, his fingers gently sweeping up towards her neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

With one swift movement, Abel undid the clasp of her dress and let the fabric fall to a puddle at her feet. He could feel the air around them thinning as he took in Chevelle's almost-naked body, covered with nothing but a lacy white thong and his wicked gaze. And when Chevelle turned around and met his gaze with a devilish one of her own, he felt his mouth dry up a little. He wanted to reach for the water and down another glass, but he couldn't look away from her. She wouldn't let him.

Chevelle stepped forward, and as Abel gazed upon the gentle bounce of her chest, he felt himself hardening in his pants. Chevelle smiled and stepped closer yet again, and this time she brought both hands to his head, stood on her toes, and she kissed him. Hard.

Her lips were hungry and feverish and they sent a clear message: she wanted him. And not just his body, but him. Everything he had to give her. Abel could feel her yearning—the way she was pouring herself into their kiss—and it did something powerful to him. Before long, his shirt was on the floor and his hands were hot on Chevelle's ass, grabbing and squeezing as though the secret to his survival lie between those rounded cheeks.

Chevelle moaned into his open mouth, pressing her bare chest up against his and letting her erect nipples trace faint lines into his skin.

"Damn, Chevelle, you could carve ice with those," he murmured.

Chevelle laughed, pressing herself to him even harder—firmer, so that she could feel every throbbing muscle in his body. She slipped her tongue back into his mouth and allowed him to do with it what he pleased. She almost couldn't believe that she had been strung up about Jared only an hour or two ago when there was a willing, ready, and capable man who actually wanted to spend his time with her—a man who actually made her feel good. Made her feel things she'd forgotten she could still feel.

Abel reached down to run his fingers over the lace of Chevelle's—now drenched—thong. He smiled when he realized just how wet she was for him. Pulling away from the kiss, he asked, "Should we go to the bedroom?"

Chevelle shook her head, leaning up and locking their lips once more—this time with an almost embarrassing urgency. Keeping their lips locked, she pushed them forward until Abel's back was flush against his off-white walls, and when he made contact with the cool stone, his eyes widened in surprise and then quickly lowered in arousal. He looked at Chevelle with a mixture of confusion and excitement, and it wasn't until she dropped down to her knees that he realized what she had in mind.

Chevelle began working at his belt and she didn't even need to ask before Abel's hands were on it too, desperately trying to help her get it off. She could already see the bulge straining his black pants, and once they were off, he leapt out, shining in all his glory. She gasped when she saw him, and she wasn't really sure why. Why she was so surprised to see how big Abel was as though she hadn't fucked him the other day—as though she hadn't swallowed his kids just yesterday afternoon.

Slowly, Chevelle ran her hands up Abel's firm thighs, watching as his muscles twitched beneath her touch. She looked up at his face and saw that it was twisted in some mix between lust, agony, and excitement. It made her smile.

Everything he did seemed to make her smile.

Even in his own twisted arousement, he was still so fucking handsome she literally wanted to die. Chevelle wasn't sure what Abel saw in her, but every time he saw it, it made her soul a little lighter to carry. It made her limbs drag a little less when she moved.

It just made life a little easier, not having to search for reasons to keep going—knowing that there was someone else who saw in her something that was worth seeing, even if she didn't quite know what it was yet. And it was easier for Chevelle to believe that she herself was worth it when she wasn't constantly trying to convince people that she was. Constantly fighting for proof as to why they should keep her around. For reasons why she wasn't disposable.

With Abel, she didn't have to fight. She didn't have to play the tired game of walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He made her feel more than wanted—he made her feel needed. Necessary.

And ultimately, that was what had brought Chevelle to her knees.