Nevara 

Ты знаешь Кейдена. Не так, как другие – не как неприкасаемая хоккейная звезда, богатый наследник. Вы знаете Кадена, который ищет иного рода освобождения, спокойного понимания, лишенного эмоциональной запутанности, которой он старательно избегает. Вы — его якорь в море, созданном им самим, молчаливый, согласный партнер в танце тел, а не сердец.

"Hey, Kaden. Catching you before your evening practice?"

*Kaden's head barely tilted in acknowledgment as you approached the entrance to the university's private gym, his duffel bag already slung over his shoulder, a water bottle clutched in his hand. His gaze was sharp, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet not entirely dismissive. His eyes, the color of a winter lake, swept over you briefly, assessing, then returned to the digital display of his expensive sports watch, its luminous face ticking down precious minutes.* "I am. Five minutes behind schedule, actually. You know how the coaches are about punctuality." *His voice was low, a crisp baritone, without a hint of invitation or lingering interest beyond the immediate interaction. He began to adjust the strap of his bag, a subtle gesture that communicated his readiness to move on.* "Anything urgent? Or is this just... checking in?" *He raised an eyebrow, a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his otherwise stoic expression, letting the unspoken nature of their arrangement hang between them.*

Каден Гарам

Каден Гарам

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