GAY Sugar Daddy

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"Is Owen coming?" Kimmie asks before she takes the last gulp of her champagne.

The two of us are at Cleo's place, to accompany her while she gets ready. The engagement is set to start at six, at some famous hall Mr Montgomery booked that would accommodate all ninety nine guests.


"Did you even tell him about tonight?"


"Are you sure..?" She sounds sceptical.

I ignore her to pay attention to my phone; he just posted a new picture showing tangled feet and legs of mine and his, while the area above our knees are covered by his dark charcoal duvet.

Mysterious yet intimate, I definitely love this picture and don't mind him posting it eventhough it's obvious those feet are mine since I recognise the nail art which looked insanely amazing in it.

But my mood goes south once I read the caption; When your love doesn't reach her heart, you don't mind settling for the feet.

"What are you looking at?" Her face is already next to mine which a moment later she gasps, "Whoaaa what did you doooo? That was posted at 3am. Early morning Instagram post is always the one coming straight from the heart. What did you doooo?"

"I told him about the promise."

"Which promise?"

"The promise."

"Ohhh." She nods a couple times then walks to the corner table, grabbing the champagne bottle to refill her glass. When she returns, I realise there's one glass in each hand.

"Drink, then tell me from the start."


I want what she has.

I'm so frustrated with myself for being envious watching how happy Cleo was the entire night. Mr Montgomery clearly cherishes her, and all his children love her. They're going to get married next year, I'm not sure when but most probably in Fall since that's her favorite season, but she's definitely lucky. She has everything lined up in her life. She has chosen to be a housewife so her life is pretty much set.

While me over here is not even at the start line yet. I still have two months until I'm done with my bachelor degree. And there's this whole uncertainties of when am I going to get a job, or what kind of job will I be getting, if what I want or get will lead me to the life I've been picturing myself in.

And then there's another big question mark if I'm gonna find someone and be happy like my best friend and her fiancé. If I'm gonna have my own happy family like what Evie and Augustine have.

The future is a scary thing but I've drafted everything out. At least I've figured out the goals, so the next thing to do is be brave and wish for a good luck that everything will go accordingly as planned.


I stop looking at myself in the mirror and shout back hearing Owen's calling me from the living room, "Over here!"

Five seconds later he has joined me in the walk in closet, "You're too pretty to be with a peasant like me, Your Highness."

I giggle and give out my right hand, which he gracefully accepts and kisses the knuckles while bowing down.

"Should we go now?"

I nod and smile widely. We are planning to go out on a date on this fine Sunday. Instead of spending my day at my place, I proposed to have a date with him today since I spent the entire day with my bestfriends yesterday.

It's only fair to replace his day with mine since he paid a lot of money for that. Afterall our relationship is still a business transaction.

"I don't know how am I going to deal with the heartbreak when this is over but I will cherish every second we have now." He says when we're on our way to the door.

I stop my track and grab his wrist, stopping him too.

"I love you, Precious." He says it first when I was about to say the same thing.

"I love you too." A tear slips from my eyes as we kiss for what feels like a sad goodbye. Or preparing for it.


It's been six years since he retired but people still recognise him when we're strolling the street. It's somewhat annoying to be stopped every few steps for a picture, or an autograph, now I understand why Owen prefers to spend time at private places.

But of course, being a commoner like me, a stubborn commoner if I must say, I drag him to the high-end streets to have that experience of strolling the street with a boyfriend. He is the first one I've had that I'm proud to be with, comparing to the losers I dated during high school.

It feels good, to be loved to the brim like this. In fact his love has spilled over by how abundant it is. I definitely love being his girlfriend. Holding hands, kissing in the middle of the street, while his fans look at me in envy. Or adoration. Either way I'm proud to be the one in his arm.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Is she the one in the pictures?"

"She's the one in the pictures you deleted, right?"

My ears burn despite the cold weather. Owen's smile disappears abruptly as he turns to look at me, still holding the pen to give an autograph to his fans, "Y-yeah."

That's all he said then he apologises for having to leave.

"I'm sorry about that." He quickly says once we're at a distance that the crowd can't hear us.

"I know I promised about not showing you to the public but," he stops when he opens the door of a cafe for me, perhaps wanting to escape the fan-dom for a brief moment, "I didn't know there'll be-"

"It's okay," I cut him and flash a smile, "I'm the one who wants to go out on the street. It's okay, baby."

Little did I know there's already news being posted on online tabloids about a certain Owen Harris was seen strolling the London high street with his 22 year old girlfriend after being rumoured as gay.


"Do you plan your future?" I ask once we're seated with finger food spread in front of us. We've been hiding at the cafe for half an hour now.

"I mean, do you plan anything further? Like you've achieved your dream to be a footballer, a famous one indeed, then get into the culinary world, successfully opened restaurants all over the world so what's next?"

He made a thinking face before shrugging his shoulders, "I guess the next thing is to just... live."

"Just live?" I stop eating the chicken nugget and make my version of thinking face, "Don't you have any other goals?"


"I don't know. Get a wife and have kids?"


"Don't you have a goal like, get married at 35. Have kids at 38. A dog at 40."

"Hmmm, do you?"

I roll my eyes when he reflects the question to me instead, "Hellooo, I asked first."

He grins as he munches his french fries, then opens his mouth once he's done, "Honestly I thought by now I've married a man and adopt a toddler from China or something."

I laugh at his blunt answer, "China? Really, Owen?"

"China, Vietnam, you know, any Asian country. That seems to be the trend when I had this idea."

I laugh again until he continues, "I thought I'd marry Gerard. We were this close to get engaged, we even talked about adopting two Asian babies when we're 30."

"Oh?" I can't hide the fascination of how young he wants to have kids, "You're 3 years behind now."

"I know. But my girlfriend doesn't wanna marry me, she wants to have another man's baby so I guess I have to postpone my plan." He replies nonchalantly before sipping his iced tea.

I laugh despite being burned for the second time today.

"What about you?"

I clear my throat as I play with the end of my hair, "What about me."

"I told you I almost got engaged at 27, plan to have babies at 30, now it's your turn."

Turning the straw round and round watching the water ripples, I avoid having any eye contact as I begin, "After I finish my study, I'm gonna go have my summer trip with my besties. Then work. I have an idea about getting married around 30, after I've climbed the career ladder high enough to earn at least five figure salary. Then-"

"Wow, you really have a plan when you said you have a plan."

I nod, finally stop playing with my drinks and look at him, "Then I'll marry a guy, and have babies one or two years after that."

"Two babies? Like me?"

I chuckle as I shake my head, "I'm thinking three. But I'll definitely stop before I'm 40 so whatever I can get before then."

"You'd make a good mother."

"Hm? What made you think so?"

"You were good with my kids last Friday."

My eyes widen as my jaw drops for how good he was to strike me with that point. We laugh hysterically like two idiots in the cafe. Luckily there’s only two other customers at the moment who are too busy gossiping to mind our inappropriate behaviour.

I'm about to throw him an epic comeback when his phone suddenly rings that he frowns once he sees the caller ID.

"Why is your pimp calling me?" Helen is calling him?

Which a second later my phone rings with Restricted pasted on the screen.

"Hello?" Both of us answer the calls as we look at each other in confusion.

"Good afternoon Miss Evans, I'm calling from Cupcake Legal Team."
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