Countdown Confessions: Chapter 4

January 01, 2026

Countdown Confessions: Chapter 4 - The First Morning

"The 'Just kidding' feeling is gone. This is our new Day One." It’s January 1st, and the world looks different in the morning light. Back at the apartment with messy hair and cold coffee, Hallie and Cal have to face the aftermath of a midnight that shifted the earth. The "morning after" awkwardness is real, but the heat from the night before hasn't cooled an inch. Follow the final chapter as they navigate their first official day as more than friends and realize that some resolutions—like finally admitting they're in love—are meant to be kept forever."The 'Just kidding' feeling is gone. This is our new Day One." It’s January 1st, and the world looks different in the morning light. Back at the apartment with messy hair and cold coffee, Hallie and Cal have to face the aftermath of a midnight that shifted the earth. The "morning after" awkwardness is real, but the heat from the night before hasn't cooled an inch. Follow the final chapter as they navigate their first official day as more than friends and realize that some resolutions—like finally admitting they're in love—are meant to be kept forever.

Chapter Four

Callum

The First Morning

The morning light hitting my apartment wasn’t the harsh, judgmental glare I’d expected after a night of life-altering decisions. It was soft, filtered through the grey New York clouds, casting everything in a hazy, gold-rimmed glow.

But I wasn't looking at the light. I was looking at Hallie.

She was swallowed up by my favorite oversized navy sweatshirt, the hem reaching her mid-thigh, her hair a chaotic, beautiful mess of curls that I’d spent the last hour watching her try to tame with her fingers. We’d made it back to my place at 1:00 AM, the "Safety Pact" officially dead and buried. We hadn't slept—not really. We’d spent the night tangled together on my sofa, talking until our voices were hoarse, interspersed with kisses that felt like they were trying to make up for a decade of lost time.

"Stop staring, Cal," she murmured, though she was smiling into her coffee mug. "I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backward."

"Aye, and it’s the best you’ve ever looked," I said, my voice thick with sleep and something much heavier. I walked over to her, stepping into her space with a confidence I hadn't been allowed to have twenty-four hours ago. "Though I think I preferred the emerald silk on the floor of my hallway."

Hallie’s cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink. She set the mug down on the counter and looked up at me, her eyes dark with the same hunger that had been clawing at my insides since the countdown hit zero.

"The first date," she whispered, reaching out to hook her fingers into the belt loops of my jeans. "You said you had a plan."

"I do." I slid my hands under the hem of the sweatshirt, my palms finding the warm, silky skin of her waist. I heard her breath hitch, and the sound sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to my gut. "But I’m finding it exceptionally hard to think about leaving this kitchen, Hallie. I’ve waited ten years to have you in my clothes, in my house, looking at me like that. The 'first date' feels like a formality I’m losing patience for."

"Cal," she breathed, her hands sliding up my chest to tangle in my hair. "We’ve done the waiting. We’ve done the slow burn. I think we’re past the point of formalities."

She was right. The pining, the jealousy, the "just friends" rubbish—it had all been fuel. And now, the match had been struck.

I didn't give her another second to think. I lifted her onto the granite countertop, her legs immediately wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against her. The sweatshirt bunched up, and the feeling of her bare skin against my hands was the final snap of my control.

"Finally," I groaned against her neck, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin right where I’d wanted to mark her for years. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me, lass? Watching you, protecting you... wanting to tear the world apart every time another man looked at you?"

"Show me," she whispered, her voice a ragged command. "Don't tell me anymore, Cal. Show me."

I captured her mouth in a kiss that was pure, unadulterated possession. It wasn't the celebratory kiss from the balcony; this was raw and desperate. My tongue claimed hers, tasting the coffee and the heat and the decade of 'almosts.'

My hands moved with a frantic sort of purpose, sliding the sweatshirt up and over her head until it was discarded on the floor. She was perfect—pale skin, dark lace, and eyes that were fixed on mine with a terrifying level of honesty. I stripped out of my own shirt, the cool air of the kitchen hitting my skin, but I couldn't feel it. All I felt was her.

"No more lanes," she agreed, her voice breaking as I leaned down to show her exactly how an Aries deals with ten years of combustible frustration.

I didn't just kiss her; I devoured her. Every "friendly" hug, every chaste peck on the cheek, every time I’d forced myself to look away while she changed, it all culminated in a desperate, bruising hunger. I released her wrists only to slide my hands down her body, my calloused palms dragging over the soft silk of her skin with a possessiveness that made her arch off the bed.

"Cal," she gasped, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her nails marking me. "Finally. Please."

"I’ve got you, lass," I growled against the sensitive hollow of her throat. "I’ve had you in my head for a decade, but this... this is so much better."

I moved with a frantic sort of precision, my hands shaking as I dealt with the rest of our clothes. When I finally pressed my bare skin against hers, the friction felt like an electric shock. She was all soft curves and heat, and I was all hard edges and desperation. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her—no more hairspray or party perfume, just Hallie.

I wanted to taste every inch of her. I started at her jaw, moving down to the swell of her breasts, my tongue tracing the curve of her skin until she was twisting beneath me, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. When I finally let my mouth find the peak of her breast, she let out a sharp, high sound that nearly sent me over the edge then and there.

"You’re perfect," I rasped, looking up at her. Her hair was fanned out across my grey sheets, her eyes blown wide and glassy with a desire that mirrored my own. "Do you have any idea how many nights I’ve spent in this bed imagining exactly this?"

"Show me," she whispered, her voice a raw command. She reached down, her hand finding the small of my back and pulling me down, her legs tangling with mine, urging me closer. "Don't talk anymore, Cal. Just... show me."

I didn't need to be told twice. I shifted, my body hovering over hers, the tension between us so thick and pressurized it felt like it could ignite the very air in the room. I looked down at her, seeing the way she arched her back, her skin flushed and slick where it met mine.

I reached down, my hand guiding the tip of my cock through her heat, dragging it slowly through her wetness. Hallie let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips gave a desperate, instinctive jerk upward. The sound was my undoing—a jagged, needy noise that told me she was just as close to the edge as I was.

"Look at me, Hallie," I rasped, my burr thick and demanding.

She opened her eyes, and I waited until I was locked into her gaze before I finally pushed.

When I finally sank into her, the world didn't just shift; it shattered. It was a slow, agonizing slide into a heat that felt like coming home after a lifetime of wandering. Internally, my mind was a chaotic roar of finally, finally, finally. After ten years of imagining the friction, the tightness, and the way she would feel wrapped around my cock, the reality was almost too much to bear. Pushing into her felt like a physical anchor finally catching hold; it was the ultimate release of every "lane" I’d ever forced myself to stay in.

She let out a long, broken sob of relief, her arms locking around my neck, her legs tightening around my waist to pull me even deeper. I stayed still for a heartbeat, buried to the hilt, just breathing her in. I wanted to memorize the way her body stretched to accommodate mine, the way she shook under the weight of it.

"Hallie," I groaned, the name a prayer and a vow against her lips. She let out a long, broken sob of relief, her arms locking around my neck as she pulled me flush against her.

Then, I started to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that was designed to draw out every second of the torture. Every thrust was a decade of pining; every kiss was a promise that I was never letting her go back to being "just" anything. She met me move for move, her body tilting to meet mine, her voice a constant, beautiful litany of my name in my ear.

The pace quickened as the friction turned into a blaze. My hands gripped her hips, anchoring her to the bed as I drove into her, my movements becoming more primal, more urgent. I watched the way her face transformed—the way she bit her lip, the way her eyes fluttered shut as she reached for the peak.

"Cal, I—" she started, her voice breaking.

"Stay with me, lass," I grunted, my own control fraying into nothing. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, and the sheer honesty in them nearly broke me. We were hovering on the edge, the countdown reaching its final, silent zero. And then, she shattered. I felt the ripples of her release pull at me, and I followed her over the edge with a guttural roar, the explosion so violent and all-consuming that I forgot where I ended and she began.

Minutes later—or maybe it was years—I collapsed against her, my heart hammering against hers like a trapped bird. I tucked my head into the crook of her neck, my skin slick with sweat, my breath finally slowing down.

She didn't move. She just held me, her fingers tracing the line of my spine, her touch soft and certain.

"The first date could wait," she whispered, her voice still trembling slightly. "But I think the second one should probably involve that Chinese food."

I let out a low, tired laugh, rolling onto my side but keeping her tucked firmly against my chest. I pulled the duvet over both of us, sealing us in our own private world.

"Aye," I said, my burr thick and satisfied. "But we’re not leaving this bed until I’ve made up for at least five of those ten years, Hallie. So you’d better be hungry."

She smiled, a sleepy, beautiful look of belonging. "I’m starving, Cal. For everything."

The "first date" was a formality. The "Safety Pact" was a memory. But as I closed my eyes and held the woman I’d loved since I was twenty-one, I knew that for the first time in my life, I wasn't waiting for the clock to run out. I was exactly where I was meant to be.