CHAPTER 5 #3
Oliver points at the sliding door. “What was that?”
“Just letting the house know I’m about to get drunk.”
“You’re so…”
“James Bond-like? Well, yes. Thank you.”
“I was going to say, Juni Cortez…”
“From SpyKids?!” I ask, shocked, and he bursts out laughing.
And I stay still, with my sake drink in hand, mesmerized by his happy face, when the waiter comes back, pours our jasmine tea, bows, and slides the rice paper door shut, leaving us alone in the dimly lit VIP room.
“So…” I say, leaning forward and crossing my arms. “…Boyfriends.”
“Oh, my God… Are you going to start again?”
“Not one bit. I just think since our status changed, we might need to change our approach.”
“You’re doing that thing again,” Oliver says, “where you’re talking but not really saying a thing.”
“Well, we wouldn’t need to get to know each other if we were just hooking up.”
“I can see why you were hired as an… ‘art dealer’, Juni Cortez. Your powers of deduction are so advanced.”
“Thank you. But what I mean is, since we are, you know, together or whatever… we should talk. You know… talk about our hobbies or interests… Real things.”
“…What? You want to play 21 Questions? Are we sixteen now?” Oliver gasps dramatically. “Am I getting invited to prom?!”
“No. And what the fuck is 21 Questions?”
“It’s a game teens play to get to know each other. You take turns asking questions, then answer. And if you don’t want to, you just say ‘pass.’”
“That sounds lame.”
“How would I know?” he says, looking bothered. “I’ve never done it before.”
Huhhhh… he’s never done it before…
The idea of being Oliver’s first in, well, anything, thrills me so much that I end up saying the dumbest thing… “Okay, we are doing it.”
He glares at me. “Are you bipolar?”
“No, I am not. But we are playing 21 Questions, just with a tweak. If you don’t want to answer, you don’t pass… you drink.”
“You’re serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. How else am I going to know my baby-boo’s favorite color?”
“Emerald green. Obviously.” He gestures to his silk shirt. “I assume yours is red.”
“It is. But that did not count as a question.”
“It did. It’s not my fault; I’m better at playing this than you are.” He pauses. “My turn… Were you always a perfectly behaved, good kid?”
“Me? Oh, hell no. I was a nightmare.” I laugh, pouring us both more sake.
“I got into more fights than I can count. One day, I messed with a rancher outside the city. Terrible idea, because ranchers are fucking insane. Still, I broke a window, and instead of calling the cops on a stupid kid, he made me clean stalls for three months to pay it off.”
“Child labor. Nice.”
“It saved my life, honestly. He taught me about horses, horseback riding shows, and responsibility. Taught me that if I was going to be strong, I needed to use it to protect, not destroy.”
“That sounds…” he starts, unable to find the word that describes a type of love and peace he’s never experienced before.
“Wholesome?” I offer softly.
He nods.
Holding his sake glass, cradling it with both hands, Oliver stares down into the clear liquid and whispers mostly to himself. “…In another life. With another family.”
“My turn. Favorite things to do?” I ask, trying to change the subject to something that won’t make him sad again.
“I read a lot. I love learning random facts about weird things, and I like spending time with Zara. She’s my best friend.” He pauses, and I nod, letting him know I know who Zara is. “And if I could… I would love to get a dog.”
“Let me guess. A Chihuahua?”
“A Corgi.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are those the ones with the funny butts?”
“Yes. They are so cute.”
I lean back and scan him from head to toe before meeting his gaze again. “Mmm… it suits you.”
“Are you saying my butt is funny?”
I don’t answer.
I just take a slow sip of my sake and smirk at him over the rim of the glass. He gasps, completely offended, but I can tell he is as amused as I am.
“That didn’t count as one of the game’s questions.”
“It absolutely did.” I flash him a wicked grin. “It’s not my fault; I’m better at this game than you are.”
Oliver realizes I just threw his exact words right back at him and narrows his eyes. “Fine. Next question.”
“Favorite food?”
“Whatever is the most expensive thing on this menu, and you’re paying for it,” he says back, but when my eyes go wide, he bursts out laughing. “Pasta. I love pasta.”
Oliver refills our sake glasses, tapping his chin as he thinks of his next question. I can’t help but just stare at him.
He’s stunning, and there’s no doubt about that… but when he relaxes and laughs?
Fuck.
I can’t even find the words to describe it.
“If you were an animal, which animal would you be?” he finally asks.
“A wolf.”
“Absolutely not.”
I gasp. “Are you saying I’m not as cool as a wolf?”
“You are. But wolves mate for life. You’re more like a… bonobo.”
“What the hell is a bonobo? Oliver, if I Google that and it’s a shi—”
“It’s an ape,” he says, smiling. “They sleep around with every single member of their tribe… Regardless of sex.”
Ah! This culero!
“First of all, why do you even know that? And second, if we’re talking about sleeping around with everyone, you are definitely the bonobo at this table.”
I laugh, fully expecting him to throw a sarcastic comment back, but to my surprise, he doesn’t.
Instead, a deep-red blush creeps up his neck and cheeks, and hell, I don’t know what’s weirder: the fact that a guy with his Playboy reputation is blushing over a dumb joke, or the fact that I really, really like the way his face looks when he blushes.
But unfortunately, the blush vanishes almost as fast as it appeared, and his expression switches to his usual scowl.
“Favorite position?” I ask, deliberately trying to get the color back in his cheeks, and it works instantly.
“…Whichever lets me see my partner’s eyes,” he murmurs, looking away. “Is it actually true you’ve never dated?… before this, I mean.”
“Never. I’ve never had any interest in committing to one person,” I say, leaning forward. “Alright. My turn… When was the last time you had sex?”
Oliver freezes.
He stares at me for a split second before reaching out, grabbing his sake glass, and drinking it all.
What the fuck does that mean?
Was he seeing someone else at the Gala?
Is he seeing someone else now?
He sets the empty glass down. “How do you usually spend a normal day?”
He is clearly changing the subject, and for some inexplicable reason, it irks me.
A fucking lot.
“Every day is different. It depends on the ‘art’ I get commissioned to sell,” I reply, trying not to sound bothered that he didn’t answer.
“Today I was woken up at seven a.m. by my four-year-old nephew in Spider-Man pajamas using my stomach as a trampoline. I had breakfast with my family, hit the gym, went to work, and then came here.”
“You’re a family man…”
“I am. Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s just…” He swallows before looking down. “Don’t you ever want kids? A family of your own?”
I pick up my sake cup and drink. Not because I don’t want them, but because I do. I would love to have a family of my own, but not with the price it comes with.
Like the pain of losing them like I lost my father.
Oliver glares at me for taking the coward’s way out, and I kind of like his glare, but I want to see him blush again.
“For what I’ve seen, most tabloids show you with both men and women. Which do you prefer?” I ask.
Instantly, the blush is back. Only this time, it’s much stronger.
Mierda…. I want to touch him, but this stupid table is in the way.
“Men,” he answers quietly.
Good.
I really like that answer.
“What are you…?” He bites his lower lip, his light hazel eyes darting up to meet mine. “…top or bottom?”
“A very demanding top. Interested?” I ask, completely unable to stop myself.
What the fuck are you doing, Damián?!
I should stop drinking, and I should definitely stop asking these questions.
But if I’m being honest… my desperate need to know the answer outweighs whatever coherent, rational thinking I have left.
So, fuck it.
I don’t care. I just want to hear him say he wants me.
But instead of telling me he wants me as much as I want to have him, Oliver grabs his cup and drinks.
He fucking drinks.
“Are you always so… passionate?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“I am. But some make me more passionate than others.” I reach across the table, sliding my fingers lightly over his, leaning in as far as the table allows. “My turn… Have you liked what I’ve done to you so far?”
What the fuck am I asking?…
Okay, apparently I AM sixteen and desperately trying to figure out if the gorgeous man sitting across from me actually likes the way I kiss him.
Ugghh… I am so fucking glad we don’t have open comms on this mission.
I would be beyond mortified if Bjorn or Law heard any of the dumb shit coming out of my mouth right now.
Oliver’s breath hitches at my question.
He pulls his hand away from my touch and reaches for his cup to drink again, but before I end up with another unanswered question, I stretch my arm and catch his wrist mid-air.
“Stop. I’ll change the question.” Well, since I am already asking incredibly stupid questions… in for a penny, in for a pound. “Am I at least in your top twenty?”
“…You are… in my top ten,” he says with a smile.
“Which pl—”
KNOCK, KNOCK.
We both jump, startled when the rice paper door slides open. The waitress steps into the room and sets several plates between us.
“Your appetizers,” she says with a polite bow. “Caviar, Peking duck, your five dumplings, five spring rolls, and bao buns filled with pulled pork. Are you ready to order your main dishes?”
“Yes, we are,” Oliver says quickly, snatching up his menu and hiding his face behind it.
Two hours, two glasses of champagne, and way too much sake later, it turns out that the date is… actually fun. Shockingly fun.
Oliver takes complete control of the menu, ordering things I can’t even pronounce but that taste absolutely incredible. I am in love with this food and would gladly eat it for the rest of my natural life.