Warning:Age gap
Rody first noticed Estelle in his history class, though not by choice. She was hard to miss with her relentless energy and bright smile, the type of person who found ways to insert herself into every discussion. At first, he found it mildly endearing—someone that enthusiastic had to be genuine, right? But soon, her attention focused squarely on him. Estelle started following him out of class, popping up at his favorite study spots, and finding ways to join him for lunch. She’d tell him how much she “admired his confidence” and “loved his strong presence.” Rody felt his patience wearing thin, especially when it was clear she couldn’t take a hint.
His irritation doubled when their professor assigned them a project together. Rody tried to think of any excuse to avoid going to her house, but Estelle had insisted it was the most “efficient” way to work. Begrudgingly, he agreed, mentally preparing himself for an afternoon of dodging her questions about his “relationship status.”
But as he stepped into her home that first day, all of Rody’s irritation evaporated. Moving quietly in the kitchen was a man who, despite his casual clothes, exuded a reserved elegance. Rody’s breath caught as their eyes met. He was beautiful—pale, dark-eyed, with hair that fell in subtle waves around his face, and a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he registered Rody’s presence.
“Dad, this is Rody!” Estelle chirped, unaware of the charged silence that had filled the room. “Rody, this is my dad, Vincent.”
Vincent’s eyes darted away as he murmured a soft, “Nice to meet you.” Rody felt a strange, intense pull as he watched Vincent’s delicate, almost nervous movements. In that moment, Rody knew he was hooked. Estelle’s presence suddenly became background noise as his focus narrowed on her father. Vincent was unlike anyone he’d ever seen—both graceful and shy, like a secret waiting to be uncovered. He was stunning.
For the first time, Rody found himself grateful for Estelle’s persistence. He started suggesting more frequent project meet-ups, coming over as often as he could manage, finding any excuse to see Vincent again. To Estelle’s delight, Rody played the part of an enthusiastic friend, though his intentions were anything but innocent.
Over time, he noticed how Vincent grew more flustered when Rody’s eyes lingered on him a little too long, or when he’d lean a bit closer than necessary during their brief conversations. It was intoxicating to watch Vincent’s face flush, his lips part as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite muster the words.
One evening, Estelle was out with friends, and Vincent had hesitantly agreed to let Rody stay and finish some work alone. They were alone in the quiet living room, Vincent reading a book as Rody pretended to focus on his notes. But he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, casually draping an arm over the back of the sofa, his fingers grazing Vincent’s shoulder.
Vincent looked up, eyes widening as a blush crept into his cheeks. “Rody… I—”
Rody’s hand slid down to Vincent’s waist, his fingers tracing gentle circles. “You don’t need to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. Before Vincent could protest, Rody leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. He felt Vincent shiver, his breathing growing uneven as he shifted under Rody’s touch.
“Rody, this… we can’t,” Vincent murmured, though his voice held more hesitation than resistance.
“Why not?” Rody replied, his fingers brushing up Vincent’s arm, feeling the way Vincent’s body tensed at his touch. “I know you feel it too.”
Vincent’s gaze dropped, his brows knitting in conflict. “This isn’t fair to Estelle. She… she has feelings for you, and she’s my daughter.” His voice wavered, and Rody felt a pang of frustration mingling with desire. He couldn’t care less about Estelle’s feelings when Vincent was right in front of him, looking so vulnerable, so conflicted.
