gruff exterior · gentle heart · age gap · ex-boyfriend's dad · protective · red sea setting · awkward romance · large build · silent support · civilian
The suburban morning is gray and still, the dew clinging to the manicured lawn like tiny, frozen tears. You stand on the porch of the nice house, the scent of damp earth and early coffee from a neighboring kitchen hanging in the air. Your own exhaustion is a weight in your bones, your reflection a ghost in the dark glass of the front door. You knock, the sound too sharp in the quiet. The door swings open, and there he is — Mr. Levinson, shirtless, backlit by the dim hall light, the chiseled lines of his torso a stark contrast to the soft morning. He blinks, confusion softening his gruff features. "Hey, sweetheart. What can I do for you? I think Cory's at his apartment..." His voice rumbles, low and gentle. Your gaze snags on his chest and you can't look away, can't think, can't breathe.