The Man Who Mended My Heart (MxM) (Entangled Hearts 💙 Book 2)

‘You deserve to be loved by someone who won’t take you for granted or won’t make you wait for him to decide if he wants to be with you.’

Those earnest, clear blue eyes haunted me, how sincere he was, how hurt he seemed that I was hurting. Because look where I was at!

I should have seen the signs; I should have paid attention to all the red flags. But I chose to ignore them, and in the process, my heart was wrenched. But maybe that was a blessing in disguise, because otherwise, I wouldn’t have met the man who mended my heart.

‘Welcome to CCB Credit. My name is Robby, how can I help you?’

As soon as I heard Noah’s voice on the other end of the line, my heart skipped a beat. He sounded so timid in mannerisms, in the way he spoke, with his soft and tender voice, and yet, when he told me he hadn’t come out to his parents, he had a certain resolve to his tone that had me grinning.

I defied the rules of my job and offered him my insight – you know, as a fellow gay guy myself – just to hear him speak some more. The poor guy forgot why he was calling after all that.

I also did something that was technically against the rules and looked him up. I mean, his address was right there on my screen, but I did a quick search. Because the suburb he lived in? Was the same as mine. And it turned out, he lived within walking distance of my apartment.

I took a risk that late June evening when I knocked on his door. It changed my life forever.

‘Robby?’

‘Yeah.’ I bit my lower lip. ‘I uh…’ I scratched the back of my head. ‘I’m sorry if this seems kind of stalkerish. I promise I’m not a stalker and you can tell me to get lost, but…after talking to you, I saw that we lived, like….really not far from each other, and I just finished my shift and…well, I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out or something.’

And it turned out he had liked my voice too.

Okay, so let’s zoom out a moment so I can fill you in before jumping ahead to the boyfriend who broke my heart.

My life had already seen many changes. I’d moved from Gatineau to Montreal right after graduating high school two years prior, away from my family, away from my friends, to go to Cegep, for post-high-school studies, and University here.

The problem was that there was some weird error with my application – their fault, not mine – and I couldn’t get into the program anymore. I was already installed here, though, with a signed lease on a decent apartment and with a well-paying job at a credit card company. So I stayed.

Although I had a French-Canadian name, Charpentier, I was perfectly bilingual, English and French, though more Anglophone, and that made me perfect for such a job. I quickly made friends at work. My boss was strict when on the clock, but chill outside of working hours, and I liked the neighbourhood where I now lived.

I was geared for a promotion, or would be soon, so I chose to put off my post-high-school studies, focusing on my job. If I needed any degree to get an even better promotion after a few years, I’d do a special equivalent or something. I was cool with that. Besides, I was now 19, I had ample time if ever I changed my mind. As for everyone back home, they visited me from time to time or I visited them.

I was happy here, and I wanted to see what more life would bring me by staying here.

Knocking on Noah’s door had been a bold move, especially for an introvert like me. I was confident he might find me handsome, though. I have decent enough muscles, I’m 5’9”, my hair is light enough for me to be considered blond with blue eyes, even if technically my hair is light brown – semantics. I have a rounded face with an ivory complexion, and I like to stand at my tallest, not in an imposing manner, just to show confidence, even if in a timid introverted way.

I was pleasantly curious to discover the man behind the voice, and Noah was cute, making me grin and making me blush. He had delicate features, a bit mousy, light brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, and he was just a tad shorter than me, and slimmer than me, perfect for me to envelop my arms around him and be the bigger spoon.

And he was 18, making me feel like the protective older guy, even though I knew a guy a year younger than me could also be my protective knight.

Noah was sweet, a bit reserved at first, until he’d spill everything to me. I really liked hanging out with him. I wanted to take things slow…ish. My last boyfriends wanted faster, and we would make out a lot, but it either fizzled out on their end or on mine.

I never rebounded. I waited. I moved on when I was ready.

I was ready to explore this with Noah.

I didn’t know what it was that compelled me to walk over to his house after work that evening, but I felt a pull in my heart, the kind I couldn’t explain. I thought that meant Noah and I were meant to be.

I held off on kissing him that night after our first date, though I was tingling all over just from holding his hand. He was so cute, I wouldn’t have been able to stop at just kissing.

We actually shared our first kiss on the basketball court in front of the jocks. There was just something thrilling about kissing him in front of everyone, and yet, I kept it tame because, for whatever reason, I didn’t want to actually make out in front of them.

It was weird. I wanted to see their expressions when I kissed Noah, and I wanted to kiss Noah, but I didn’t want to kiss deeply in an intimate way in front of them, or at least not in front of one in particular, for whatever reason.

For whatever reason, sure. Had I known then what I know now. What I feel now…

Noah kissed sweetly, or should I say, returned my tender and languid kisses in a reciprocal manner.

So…I was still a virgin. The farthest I’d gotten sexually was second base, fully clothed. Unless you counted the time I did mutual masturbation. But we hadn’t touched each other, only watched each other.

I craved sexual intimacy, I knew I was ready for it, and I knew I wanted it with Noah. Part of what was holding me back was that he was a virgin too, and I didn’t want our relationship to be just about sex.

I kept myself tame most of the time, and that came naturally. I wanted slow, I wanted languid, I wanted tender. I was always tender with my boyfriends when we made out. Noah and I had yet to begin exploring our bodies more sensually. I was excited to explore with him, though.

We were lying together on my bed, flat on our stomachs, our shoulders touching, casually chatting. I didn’t want to push Noah, and I admit I was shy about making out because of what that always did to my body.

Maybe if I hadn’t been a virgin, I’d’ve been okay making out and having sex then and there, but I wanted and needed us to do this in steps.

Noah started tickling me, which caused a whole thing about me telling him about my tickling trauma as a kid. The face he made when he apologised was so adorable, but then he did something that threw me completely off. He lifted his shirt.

‘No bruise, so…’ He trailed off.

I was worried I had hurt him when I shoved him off me, and seeing his ribs, his chest…I was flushed with heat instantly. I knew I desired Noah sexually.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Noah asked tentatively.

I lunged at him, unable to hold back on wanting to explore his mouth. Even if I didn’t like tongue, I wanted it, I wanted to taste him.

We wrapped our arms around each other, lying on my bed, kissing over and over again. We made out for over an hour, no words needed; it was just our breaths, our moans, and me holding back on having sex because we were both virgins and something about the unknown made me worry about giving myself completely like that to a man.

Our kisses were languid, slow, our mouths opened as though we were taking gentle bites of each other’s faces. Our hands stayed mostly above the shoulders, and when Noah’s hands travelled below my waist, I’d interlace our fingers. I wasn’t ready for him to know how ready I was; part of that made me nervous.

I was worried I’d lose control and want it too much if he touched my crotch, and then how would I feel if he wasn’t ready? So I ensured to slow things down even more, keep it tamer after that, keeping my tongue to myself, which I preferred anyway.

At times, we were playful, giggling boyishly, nibbling each other’s lips, and if our tongues jabbed forward, I just went with it, but withdrew it when too much heat rushed to my appendage.

We chuckled onto each other’s lips, and kissed again.

‘I like kissing you.’

‘I like kissing you too.’

And we continued to make out until it was time for Noah to go home.

I was in a good place emotionally, but looking back at it now, I realise I should have heeded my own reluctance. It might have saved me a lot of heartache.