“You should be careful when handling sharp objects.”
He snatched the key from my hand and offered the advice gently.
“It’s because I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Yeah, right. A pathetic lie is worse than saying nothing at all.”
I leaned my head against the window and pretended indifference. Soon the engine started, and the wheels rolled smoothly forward. The ride was impressively comfortable, like the work of a seasoned chauffeur, but unfortunately, I couldn’t think of Eden as merely a driver.
He was a shameless stalker and a traitor.
My mood plummeted rapidly. I tried to clutter my mind so I wouldn’t be conscious of Eden sitting beside me, but it backfired instead. Fragments of the past surfaced and tormented me.
There was a time when we competed over who’d let the other use their arm as a pillow.
“Look at my arm muscles. It’s a waste not to use them.”
I’d been louder, but Eden overwhelmed me effortlessly.
With sweet words he didn’t even seem aware were sweet.
“I want to put your head here and stroke you. Your soft hair, I mean.”
He even smiled with his lips loosened lazily, creating an unfairly perfect atmosphere.
Again, completely unconsciously.
“Saying things like that with that expression is cheating.”
“I was talking normally. As for my expression… I can’t really tell since I can’t see it.”
I remembered him awkwardly touching his cheek.
“Don’t do that. You’re blushing.”
I pushed away the memory fragments by refusing to look at them—past Eden, who obediently listened to me, and past me, who pressed my lips against his cheek.
But my composure had already collapsed.
I quietly took deep breaths while rubbing at the twitching corners of my eyes. If I didn’t cool myself down, it felt like I’d lose control and start yelling hysterically.
Fuck.
I didn’t want to become rough like that. I didn’t want to spit out words I’d obviously regret later.
Trying to steady myself by sucking at the inside of my cheek made me feel a little pathetic. Why was I the one being shaken around by a stalker? The bastard following me around looked perfectly fine, so why was I the only one unable to settle down?
The advice I’d once given Liam was exactly what I needed now.
I belong to myself, yet I can’t control myself.
My brain refused to regulate me, and my judgment felt so lost it was genuinely suspicious.
“Just rest. Don’t think about anything.”
Eden soothed me in a gentle voice. Coming from the very source of the chaos in my head, his attitude practically screamed that he understood everything.
The audacity made me glare at him.
What exactly did he think he understood? Treating me like the naïve Somerset Quinn he used to know was arrogance—mockery, even. People mature as time passes. Just as Eden wasn’t the same Eden Reed I once knew anymore.
Back then, he’d been a college student spending vacation at his family home. Who could’ve guessed that the shy guy who barely spoke would reappear years later as a shameless stalker?
A bitter laugh escaped me at how foolish the old me seemed—the version of me that had almost admired him.
Thinking back on it, maybe the books he liked reading had always belonged to dark, violent, vicious genres. Maybe the kindness with which he listened to my pointless jokes had been practice for seducing future victims.
Then what had those gentle touches been?
What about the eyes that looked at me like I was lovable?
And the devotion with which he shoved my cock down his throat and sucked me off so eagerly—what the hell was that supposed to mean?
My thoughts were spiraling endlessly when suddenly the car swerved sharply to the right and accelerated.
Barely managing to steady myself as my body twisted with the vehicle, I saw a massive dump truck narrowly scrape past us. If Eden hadn’t reacted immediately, we wouldn’t have just been hit—we could’ve been crushed to death beneath it.
While my heart nearly burst from shock, Eden calmly turned into an alley and stopped the car. And in the middle of all this, he casually pulled out his phone to check a message.
The man in front of me really was nothing like the Eden Reed I used to know. The guy who used to get scared during cheap horror movies and grab my hand didn’t exist anymore.
After several deep breaths, I finally calmed down and turned my eyes outside the window—only to flinch.
When the car had lurched earlier, I’d instinctively thrown my arm toward the driver’s seat. My hand was still spread protectively across Eden’s chest.
He gestured toward my wrist with his eyes, and I hurriedly pulled my arm back.
“It’s not because I was worried you’d get hurt. It’s a habit. My reflexes are just overly developed. And my arm was kind of stiff anyway…”
Realizing how pathetic the excuse sounded, my voice gradually faded out.
A pathetic lie is worse than saying nothing at all.
Eden’s earlier words resurfaced and stabbed at my conscience.
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
He nodded easily and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“What message was so important in a situation like this— no, never mind. I’m not curious. I don’t want to know anything about you.”
I wanted to smack my own mouth for rambling like that. I bit down on my lip irritably and scrubbed a hand over my face when Eden suddenly leaned closer.
At a moment that should’ve reminded me of some horror movie scene—a ghost emerging from the shadows in the dark—why the hell did I think instead of a romance movie painted over a spring landscape?
Almost getting crushed by a truck must’ve scrambled my brain.
Eden, who hadn’t budged at all during the sharp turn, tilted toward me and inhaled deeply.
The breath brushing my ear was vivid in both sound and temperature.
In that instant, I forgot how to breathe.
I froze solid like ice, unable to inhale, yet paradoxically burning hot. I could feel such intense heat radiating from myself that Eden’s breath actually seemed cool in comparison. The cold sweat running down my spine felt hot enough to evaporate instantly.
It was like warning alarms announcing a malfunction were ringing throughout my body. The sound was powerful like tinnitus, though intangible.
But the symptoms themselves were undeniable.
The system regulating my body temperature twisted out of order. The nerves detecting stimulation had broken down. Even the trembling in my fingertips against my will belonged to the same malfunction.
“Nothing happened after all.”
Eden murmured quietly, almost to himself, yet clearly intending for me to hear, right beside my ear before leaning back again. The black frames of his glasses lightly brushed against the left side of my jaw.
I instinctively clenched my jaw.
This wasn’t on the same level as the slight abnormality I’d experienced earlier outside the exhibition hall. This was a malfunction so obvious it couldn’t be denied.
While struggling to repair my rusted, creaking body, I raised my voice even louder to keep him from noticing what was wrong with me.
“What? Nothing happened? A fucking insane car almost hit us just now!”
“At your friend’s house.”
“At my friend’s house? What the hell are you talking abou—”
“There’s no smell. Doesn’t seem like you washed either.”
Not just anyone could become a stalker after all.
We’d barely escaped a major accident, yet he was calmly thinking about me instead. There was neither shock nor relief in Eden’s detached-looking eyes.
Only me.
Only Somerset Quinn stimulated his nerves.
Apparently, he’d put quite a bit of thought into things while waiting for me outside Liam’s house. He must’ve fed his imagination and let it burn while thinking about me.
The fact that I was focusing on that made me feel insane.
There was joy in knowing my little scheme had succeeded, and satisfaction in knowing I’d shaken him.
Before I knew it, the dump truck no longer mattered. I was focused entirely on Eden’s reaction.
At least I still had enough sanity left to recognize that this was fucking crazy, even if I couldn’t stop myself. Startled by my own thoughts, I snapped irritably.
“You— what kind of person did you even become? What the hell happened to make you turn out like this?”
“I wonder. Didn’t you just say you didn’t want to know anything about me?”
I stared hard at him as he answered casually.
I searched for scraps of embarrassment, traces of jealousy. I examined him thoroughly, afraid of missing anything.
The blink of his eyes. The bridge of his nose tinted by the night. Fingers brushing lightly through his hair. The subtle movement of his lips.
Was his mouth dry from nervousness? Didn’t he seem a little cold somehow?
I was busy making my own guesses when I felt Eden glance at me.
Thinking he might’ve noticed me scrutinizing him, my voice rose again.
“You know things about me! You know where I live, my car, my job, where I work, but I don’t know anything about you except that you’re a stalker. I just thought that was unfair.”
I fired the words off rapidly, and Eden let out a soft snort.
There was amusement in the sound of his breath, though his expression remained completely calm. Then, in a gentle voice, he began reciting facts about model Somerset Quinn.
“Somerset Quinn. Twenty-three years old. Born and raised in an affluent Upper East neighborhood. Debuted relatively late for a model, but drew major attention at his debut show thanks to his handsome appearance. A strikingly masculine beauty with long limbs and evenly distributed muscle, possessing an exceptionally attractive physique.”
“Well, I was born this way.”
“He rarely appears in interviews or talk shows, and even when he does, he hardly discusses his private life. Fans are left to satisfy themselves by catching glimpses of his daily life through social media posts and paparazzi photos.”
“It’s not mystique. I’m just naturally mysterious.”
“He’s received numerous acting offers but personally rejected them all. A director reportedly approached him directly for the lead role in a film depicting extreme sexual fetishes, and he was also considered for casting in this year’s highest-grossing superhero movie. He was photographed by paparazzi alongside fellow fashion model Susan Whitaker, though both parties stated they were only friends. He has no public dating history.”
“Dating isn’t really— hey, all of that comes up in searches. Are you seriously going to pretend that’s all you know despite being my stalker?”
If that information alone had satisfied him, he wouldn’t be tailing me everywhere.
As expected, Eden acted arrogantly, like he knew everything.
“What do you want? Just say it. Want me to recite your address? How about the fact that you slept with the male model you did a photoshoot with two months ago? Or that you slept with another model’s manager? If someone wanted to dig through your private life, they’d need to look at the men around you instead of Susan Whitaker. And when I heard that ridiculous nickname of yours, ‘Jaws’…”
The moment I saw his expression crease, intense resistance suddenly surged inside me.
If anything, he should’ve felt responsible for me ending up with that nickname. Criticizing it instead was absurd.
The nickname “Jaws” had appeared not long after Eden disappeared from my life.
Back then, I’d been obsessed with the movie Christmas Jaws, watching it dozens of times over. Whenever my friends asked me to hang out, I’d turn them down saying I was going to watch Jaws again. That’s where the nickname started—people mocking me with, “Jaws again? Fucking Jaws!”
I don’t actually like Christmas Jaws.
It’s not even my preferred genre, and none of my favorite actors are in it. I’m definitely not one of those pretentious people who watches terrible one-star movies just to feel intellectually superior.
I only kept rewatching it because it was the last movie Eden and I watched together. Because back then, he’d still been scared enough to grab my hand during the movie.
That was all.
The nickname “Jaws” gained another meaning much later.
After I’d memorized every line and scene from Christmas Jaws and finally stopped watching it.
After the Eden Reed preserved in my memories became stained and tarnished.
There were two situations where people called me Jaws.
The first was when I ignored other people’s opinions and acted however I pleased. People around me used it mockingly because I had a weird stubborn streak.
“That bastard’s acting like Jaws again. Once he bites down, he never lets go.”
The second meaning referred to the function of a certain body part of mine, comparing it to the characteristics of jaws.
That second meaning was probably the one that unsettled Eden.
“I’m not planning on biting your cock, so don’t worry about it.”
I muttered, forcing my excitement back down.
After finding out even the meaning behind the nickname “Jaws,” what had Eden thought? How had he felt knowing the innocent me had become “Jaws”?
Jaws—the version that meant once I latched onto a cock, I didn’t let go easily.
For the record, I’m persistent even when I’m the one fucking someone.
That was the only kind of sex I knew, so developing that way was inevitable.
Which meant that no matter how I thought about it, Eden mocking me was a problem.
He’d played a massive role in turning me into Jaws in the first place.
The least he could do was feel a little responsible, but his expression quickly returned to calmness again, cooling me off instantly.
My malfunctioning body restored itself to normal, and the tension lingering in my senses was swallowed by anger.
“That sounds like something you could say when I ask you to bite it. I haven’t said anything like that yet.”
“Good for us, then. Since neither of us is interested in each other. Why are you following me around if you’re not interested?”
“I never said I wasn’t interested. I just drew the line at your sex life.”
Pretending to leave room for possibilities was pointless now.
I sneered mockingly.
“As if separating my sex life from me makes any sense. You’re way too twisted as a person. Think more simply. Giving sex some grand meaning is pointless. Life just flows on. Sex is only one part of that flow.”
