Chapter 17 Pravat
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Pravat
When I realize I’m stroking my morning wood while listening to Rama talk, I almost topple off the bed in my hurry to get my hand out of my pants.
Fuck.
We talk for a while before I tell him goodnight. Sitting on the couch drinking my coffee, I feel hollow with missing him.
In the past week or so, there has been some buzz about a season two. Evidently, Tida mentioned the possibility and the fan sites picked up on it. Would Rama be willing to do another season?
A smile stretches my face. Rama called me. I hadn’t expected that. Well worth waking up so early when I didn’t have to.
Sighing, I look over at my art supplies. I promised myself I would paint every day, and I plan to keep that promise. I’m meeting Kiet for lunch. If Rama didn’t call, I probably would have slept until the last minute. Now I have plenty of time to start on the painting I promised him.
Setting my empty cup on the table, I rise and set up my easel. I wind up so immersed in my work I’m a little stunned when I next look at the clock and see it’s time to shower if I’m going to be on time to meet Kiet. I just need to finish the background first.
I wind up being late, and Kiet rolls his eyes at me when I approach him at the outdoor table of the restaurant. “I was just about to call you.”
“Sorry, I got caught up in painting.”
Kiet grins. “Well, that’s good. It means you’ve broken through your dry spell.”
I nod. I haven’t felt very inspired lately.
“How’d you do it?”
“I promised a painting to Rama, and I guess that motivated me.”
Kiet gives me a knowing look but whatever he’s about to say gets lost when the waitress approaches to take our order.
“You really like him, don’t you?” he asks when we’re alone again.
“Who?”
Kiet gives me a long-suffering look.
“Of course I like him. You know I do. We get along great.”
“If you ask me, I think you’ve got a little bit of a crush on him.”
“Good thing I didn’t ask you, then,” I say, taking a sip of fruit juice.
“That’s cold, man,” Kiet says, shaking his head. “I’m just looking out for you. The guy’s straight—although you wouldn’t know it from the way he acts around you. I saw some of those event videos. His ass touched your lap more than it did any chair.”
“I like it when he sits on my lap,” I say.
“I’ll bet you do.”
I sigh. “Cut it out. There’s nothing between us but friendship.”
“We’ve been best friends for years, and I’ve never sat in your lap.”
“Do you want to?” I ask teasingly.
“God, no. One poke of your boner, and I don’t think I could ever look you in the eye again.”
I chuckle. “Think a lot of yourself, don’t you? What makes you think I’d have a boner?”
“Well, just look at me.” Grinning, Kiet gestures to himself. “It’s amazing you’ve kept yourself in check all these years.”
Putting on a mock-serious face, I say, “I’ve done it for our friendship.”
Laughing, we move on to other subjects. When we’re finished eating, Kiet invites me to go clubbing with him Saturday night.
“I think I’ll pass. I’m going to paint all weekend.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. When’s the last time you got laid?” Kiet demands.
Months. The weekend before I met Rama, to be exact.
“A while. But now that I’ve started painting again, I want to take advantage of it.”
“Fine. I’ll go with Book.”
I laugh. “Be careful. Book’s always falling into trouble.”
Why did Kiet have to bring up sex? On my way home, all I can think about is Rama. I haven’t seen him naked, of course, but I’ve seen enough—his smooth chest, small brown nipples, narrow hips, and long legs—to be able to piece it all together for one sexy-as-sin fantasy.
I’d be a liar to claim I didn’t want him.
Of course I do—I’m gay and he’s beautiful.
But it’s more than lust I feel for Rama.
And more than friendship. Kiet isn’t wrong about the difference there—when I’m with Rama, the need to touch and cuddle him is nearly overwhelming and completely separate from the desire that coils in my gut at the most unexpected times, like when he’s fallen asleep next to me during late-night filming.
I don’t regret turning Kiet down about the club.
The last thing I want to do is hook up with some stranger.
At this point, I honestly don’t think I could do it.
Maybe after some time passes, things will be different, but for now I have no desire to touch any man but Rama, and as that’s impossible, my right hand will have to do.
Back in my apartment, I change into sweats and a T-shirt and immediately sit down at my easel.
I work for a long time, stopping only once to get a glass of water.
When I’m finally satisfied with what I’ve accomplished for the day, the sky outside the windows is changing from pink to gray.
My muscles ache from sitting so long, and I take a moment to stretch before shuffling to the kitchen to see what there is to make for dinner.
Checking my cell phone, I smile when I see a text from Rama.
This internship sucks donkey balls.
That bad?
I’ve just finished making my sandwich when I hear the phone ping.
Worse. My boss made it clear that as the owner’s son he expects me to be better than everyone else, and the guy I’m partnered with thinks of nothing but sex. Oh, and the office is fucking freezing.
He’s partnered with a guy who thinks only of sex?
If you were here, I’d give you a hug. You’ll make it. I believe in you.
I’m half-way through my sandwich when Rama texts back.
Thank you.
My heart clenches. During our time together, I learned some important things about Rama: He never seeks or seems to appreciate physical touch.
He will go to great lengths not to show his vulnerability—preferring to suffer rather than admit he needs assistance.
Of course, none of this applies to me, and that fact fills me with warmth.
For some reason, Rama trusts me and has from the start.
Again and again when we first started filming, I overheard members of the cast and crew describe Rama as unapproachable and disagreeable only to witness their stupefaction when they see how he is with me.
Rama Sathianthai awakens every protective instinct I have.
And, while nurturing by nature, I’m not the type of guy who could be called protective or possessive when it comes to my relationships, romantic or otherwise.
I worry about him now. Surrounded by strangers in another country, he’s got to be having a difficult time.
Perhaps the reason he so easily attached himself to me when we met is because I offered support and comfort in a similar situation. Now that he’s so far away, will he turn to someone else? Will it be this new partner he has in the internship? The one who can’t stop talking about sex?
Ugly jealousy bubbles up from my gut. I don’t want anyone else stepping into what I consider to be my territory. But with Rama thousands of miles away, there’s little I can do about it, and I have to remind myself I don’t have the right to anyway.