Chapter Seventeen #2
Something in them softens as his shoulders un-hunch. “I keep forgetting you’re still really new here.” He rakes fingers through his dark hair. “It takes a while to… learn the ropes, I guess.”
“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence.” I squint at him. “But no, I haven’t slept with anyone for anything. Kent is The Ivory’s guy, and he gives me things when he’s instructed to.”
“I still don’t get it.” He sighs, wandering past me to poke around my dross. “But you don’t have to elaborate if you don’t want to. It’s not my place…”
Spinning, I stare at his back, lines of definition visible beneath the fitted black tank top he’s wearing.
His shoulders are broad, and his skin looks so smooth , decorated in smatterings of occasional ink.
Uncontrollably— I physically can’t help myself —my eyes slide down his frame, tapered waist disappearing into the baggy jumpsuit pants.
Unflattering on most people, but on Byron , they somehow look just right.
Maybe it’s because, shapeless or not, they’re unable to hide that perfectly plump behind. Like a firm yet juicy peach I just want to sink my teeth into.
“Do you … do that?” I drool out the words. “Trade sex for—”
Turning quickly to face me, he interrupts, “Why did you really bring me here?” Effectively dodging my inquisition.
“Because I like you,” I answer honestly.
His eyes go round, until I add, “I don’t have friends , like you do.
I’m always alone, and maybe I enjoyed it on the outside, but in here, it feels…
suffocating.” I pause to gulp. “I like talking to you. I like… being around you. I don’t know why, but your energy draws me in. ”
Once all of the words are out, I take a breath, shifting and subtly glancing around. Expecting Leo to pop up, but weighted with disappointment when he doesn’t.
Byron gawks at me for a few moments of heavy silence. But then I catch a tiny twitch of his lips. “My energy ? Are you, like, a hippy or something?”
A grin breaks out across my face. “I’m not sure what that means, but I’m a yoga instructor. Well, I was one.”
“Ah, so you’re all about chakra and that Namaste stuff?” He releases a full smirk that has me swooning. I nod casually, at which he breathes a tiny chuckle. “That’s cool. Definitely goes hand-in-hand with most martial arts. How long did you do that for?”
“A couple of years. Would you like to sit?” I gesture to the floor.
He regards me for a moment before shrugging. “Sure.”
We sit down across from one another beside my giant basket. “I’m sorry there are no chairs. I’d offer the bed, but I didn’t want you to think I was hitting on you.”
He huffs, and I smirk.
“That’ll come later.”
He blinks at me. “Are you gay…?” I can’t miss how his voice has taken on a vulnerable lilt.
“Would that be bad?” I ask, itching for some clarity on what his deal is. I’m getting so many conflicting vibes.
My Gay-dar is all over the place with this one.
“No,” he bites out defensively, then clears his throat. “Sorry… I don’t know why I asked. Your situation is none of my business.”
I can’t help the look I’m giving him. “Well, no… maybe not. But I don’t consider my situation to be something that requires hiding. It’s part of who I am. That would be like keeping the fact I’m British a secret.”
My casual chuckles fall away when I notice the way he’s gaping at me. It feels significant . As if the concept of someone being intentionally forthcoming on things like this is completely foreign to him.
“Do you… feel the need to hide things?” I ask carefully. “About who you are?”
He becomes visibly squirmy, eyes falling to his hands as he breathes, “Everyone has secrets.”
Right, well, now I’m salivating. I have to know what he’s hiding beneath that sexy, growly exterior…
“I didn’t say I don’t have secrets, Raph,” I rasp, almost seductively.
His gaze narrows. “I need to know why you’re calling me that.”
“It’s from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ,” I answer sheepishly, covering it with an insecure chuckle. “Not sure if you’re aware of them… Anyway, Raphael is—”
“I know about Raphael,” he cuts me off, eyes wide. “I love the Ninja Turtles. I’ve loved them since I was a kid… Raphael is my favorite. I named my street bike after him.”
I’m beaming. “See? I knew it made sense. Check it out.” I show him my socks.
“Those are dope,” he hums, examining them.
Oh my God, I can’t believe he’s a TMNT fan! I knew there was a reason I liked him.
“So I’m your Raphael…?” His lips slope into the first genuine smile he’s ever shown me.
It’s almost innocent; charming, and sexy, but also sweet. I think he’s flattered. Good call on the nickname, mate.
“Uh-huh.” I bite my lip. “My warrior.”
The way he’s gawking at me is squeezing the air out of my lungs. Call me crazy, but there’s a sparkle of intrigue in his deep eyes that seems more than friendly. I could be imagining it… Alright, I almost certainly am. But still, it’s clear that he’s not opposed to this… Us .
Doing whatever it is we’re doing.
I want to scoot closer, but I’m afraid of scaring him off. I get the impression he might startle easily.
“Which Turtle do you think I am?” My head slopes. “No, wait, don’t tell me. Michel—”
“Leo,” he barks over my guess. “I think you’re… Leonardo.”
I’m taken aback. I’ve never considered myself to be Leo, hence why my best friend in the world— my imaginary friend who’s far flakier than someone with that name should be —is Leonardo.
Leo’s the level-headed one. The leader . He’s an amalgamation of the other three; all of their best traits wrapped into one.
I could never be Leo… I’m not good. I’m a fuck-up. A hot bloody mess.
If ever there was a time for my Leo to show back up, it’d be now. But he doesn’t. He’s still not fucking here, and because of it, my vulnerabilities are weaseling their way to the surface.
I need to change the subject. Like now.
“I’m pansexual,” I grunt, raspier than I want to be.
“Though, I’ll admit, I haven’t had many actual relationships …
” My mind flicks to Alice, but I shake it away.
“You don’t have to tell me your secrets, Byron.
But if you ever wanted to open up to someone…
” I swallow hard. “I wouldn’t mind being that person.
In fact, I think it could be just the thing to breathe some life into this life sentence. ”
Into me.
His lips part, eyes locked on mine, conveying his obvious uncertainty. In this moment, I can see it, feel it, recognize it. His burden… The secrets he’s holding on to are burying him. Like cinderblocks he’s refusing to let go of, even though they’re sinking him in quicksand.
No one truly knows you, do they, Byron Kang?
The mound of his throat dips, and he whispers, “What if I… don’t know how?”
His fear is palpable, yet his tone carries yearning. As much as I’d love to shuck him open like an oyster to get the gorgeous pearl I just know is inside, I don’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already is.
After all, I understand where he’s coming from. More than he realizes.
I’ve clung hopelessly to my secrets. Purposefully kept my demons locked away inside me, for fear that letting them out would show the world what I truly am.
A monster, hiding in plain sight.
So rather than pressing the matter, I grab my gift basket and begin digging through it for something to keep this night from becoming a drag.
“I have an idea.” I take out a bottle of black nail polish and shake it. “Let’s play two truths and a lie.”
His brow furrows as he watches the bottle in my hand. “What’s that?”
“Nail polish.”
“No, I mean what’s two truths and a lie?” He smirks.
“Oh, it’s a game,” I explain. “You tell two truths about yourself, and one lie. Normally, the other person has to guess which is the lie… But we don’t have to do that part if you don’t want to.”
He’s staring at me, mesmerized.
“It’ll be like confessing your secrets without confessing them. Preserve the mystery.” I wink.
He forces a scowl, but I can tell he’s instantly intrigued by this concept. Straightening, he nods. “Okay. You go first.”
I squint at his bossy command. “Fine, but only if you give me your hand.”
I snatch it up without waiting for him to concede.
“Why?” He looks nervous. “What are you gonna do…?”
“I’m going to chop it off.” I roll my eyes. “I’m going to paint your nails, you knob.”
He frowns. “Why would I want that?”
“Well, clearly, you’ve been coloring them with something.” I run my thumb over some faded black on his fingernail. He flinches, and I chuckle. “Hold still. I’ll make you look pretty.”
His mouth is set in a grumpy line that somehow makes him look even hotter. But he concedes and sighs. “Whatever floats your boat.”
Scooting in closer, I hold his hand tight to keep it steady. It feels sort of shaky, though I’m trying not to obsess over why that might be.
“You have nice hands,” I hum, brushing polish onto his nail.
“Oh, do I?” He scoffs.
“Yea, you do.” My eyes lift to his.
His throat bobs, something of a flush taking over his chiseled face. “Is that… one of the truths? Or the lie…?”
“Those aren’t the rules, Byron.” I tame my smirk while he observes me. Taking a moment, I think of three things to say. “Okay, so… I was born in London. I speak fluent Spanish. And I’ve never been on a rollercoaster.”
I can tell he’s speculating as to which of these things is the lie, so I remind him, “No guessing. Your turn.”
He still seems unsure, but eventually, he grumbles, “Um… I was born in Seoul. I love gardening… And I’ve never sneezed.”
“Come again?” I snort. “Hang on, is that the lie?? I need to know.”
“Those aren’t the rules, Trevel,” he sneers.
Lord, it is unreasonable for a bloke to be this hot and this adorable at once.
“See? I’m learning things about you already… You’re a smartass.” I grin, swiping more black onto his nail while he chuckles. “Alright, let’s see… I never learned how to drive. I love my parents. And my favorite pizza toppings are pineapple and pepperoni together.”