CHAPTER 8

“ARE YOU ON DRUGS or something?” Demeter asked Joaquin, narrowing her eyes as she stared at him. Her friend had been grinning like an idiot this whole time—the kind of look that made him seem high. She already knew exactly why this man was acting this way.

Joaquin was lost in his own world, didn’t hear a single word Deme had said. Over and over, the memory of the kiss they’d shared kept replaying in his mind. Damn. His heart was beating faster with every thought, butterflies swirling wildly in his stomach.

His smile widened even further. Anyone looking at him would’ve thought he’d gone mad.

Deme was burning with curiosity. Her friend has really gone mad. What on earth happened while the two of them were left alone? “You should stay here tonight, Sire.” she said. “I’d hate it if it happened to you if we let you home alone this late.”

Sire simply nodded, no trace of resistance in his manner. That only made Deme eye Joaquin with suspicion. Something definitely happened between those two—something he didn’t know about.

She’d expected Sire to refuse, just like he always does before. She’d ask her sister to check the security cameras later. “You’ll sleep in Joaquin’s room."

Sire turned to her sharply. “The couch is fine.” He’d agreed to stay, yes but sleeping in the Spaniard’s room? No. He’d rather walk home than share a room with him. “I’ll take the living room.”

“I’ll use the living room,” Demter announced. "I'll work there."

“The f-floor then.” Sire insisted. He’d sleep anywhere, just not in Joaquin’s room.

“That’s not right, Sire,” Demeter replied. “You’re our guest. We can’t have you sleeping on the floor. It might be fine by you, but it’s not by us.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just go home.”

Joaquin’s shoulders fell. A quiet ache settled in his chest—Sire still didn’t want to be close to him. He thought things were different now. But Deme was determined, she’d make sure they ended up in the same room together.

“There’s nothing wrong with sharing a room,” Deme said, glancing at her sister for backup. “You’re both men, aren’t you?”

“I’m just not comfortable sleeping with someone,” Sire lied. Yes, we're men but we kissed already! He's afraid something deep will happen and he might crave for it just like the kiss!

Dem put down her spoon and teasingly looked at Sire. “Why won’t you sleep with Quin? He won’t do anything. Or is it that you’re expecting him to do something?” She pressed.

Sire swallowed hard. “I-I’m not expecting anything!”

“Then prove it. If you truly have nothing on your mind, sleep in his room. If you refuse, then I’m right. So just go, sleep in there and prove me wrong.”

“F-fine. I’ll sleep in his room.” Sire agreed, his jaw tightened.

A triumphant smile touched Demeter’s lips. She gave Joaquin a knowing look. Joaquin smiled back, then stood up, discreetly high-fiving Demter behind her back.

*

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*

 

SIRE PACED BACK AND FORTH outside Joaquin’s room, restless. He’d been like this for ages—nervous, heart racing. He’d planned to sleep on the couch, but Demter was there, busy with her laptop. He could’ve slept on the floor, but she’d tease him—say he was afraid to sleep in the Spaniard’s room because he was imagining something indecent.

Shit. Should he go in or not?

Why was he acting like this? Two men sharing a room was perfectly normal, wasn’t it? But they’d kissed! And it didn't happen just once!

Why couldn’t he control this damned body of his? His mind was unraveling, his heart hammering so hard it hurt.

Maybe he should just go home?

Yes. That’s what he’d do. He’d tell Demeter he wasn’t comfortable—an excuse that would work.

Sire turned to leave, but the door swung open. Great timing.

He sighed, then turned slowly, forcing an awkward smile at the Spaniard.

Joaquin’s face lit up instantly. “Come in. I thought you’d changed your mind again.” He held the door wider, inviting him in.

There was no turning back. Sire stepped inside, and immediately, he breathed in Joaquin’s scent. It filled the whole room. It smelled so good.

“Go ahead and rest. I’ll just take a quick shower.”

S-shower?' Sire swallowed and nodded. Joaquin disappeared into the bathroom. Sire’s gaze drifted to the bed—medium-sized, dressed in soft black bedding. Thankfully, there was enough space for both of them.

He sat down, testing the mattress, firm but soft. To distract himself, he looked around. The room was spacious, cool, and distinctly masculine. His eyes were drawn to the walls—beautiful three-dimensional paintings, beach-themed.

It looks familiar.

He didn’t realize he’d leaned back until he was lying across the bed, surrounded by Joaquin’s scent. It felt so safe, so warm. The ceiling was glass, he could see the stars above, bright and clear.

He watched them, scattered across the dark. It had been so long since he’d just looked up and admired the night sky. He was captivated.

He didn’t hear Joaquin come out of the shower. He only noticed when the mattress dipped beside him. “Enjoying the view?” Joaquin asked softly.

“Mm.”

“It’s beautiful.” Their eyes met, and Sire quickly looked away—those amber eyes were too magnetic, too easy to get lost in. “What's with the beach-themed painting?"

Joaquin smiled, remembering. “It’s unforgettable.” Three years, and he still couldn’t shake it.

Sire fell quiet—he could hear it in Joaquin’s voice: this place was special.

“You should change." Joaquin said gently. He walked to his closet and pulled out a pair of pajamas. “Here, they're brand new.” He handed them over. “I’ll step out. Change in peace.”

Sire changed quickly when Joaquin. The pajamas fit perfectly and they smelled like the Spaniard. He breathed it in, deeply, then shook his head at himself and lay back down. He was acting ridiculous.

He gazed up at the stars again—so close they felt within reach.

Joaquin came back in and sat beside him. There was plenty of space, yet he sat right next to him.

Silence settled over the room. Minutes passed. Joaquin lay down, and Sire couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He needed to break it. “You don't really have a girlfriend?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Joaquin chuckled. “Yes.”

“Impossible. With that look of yours and you still don't have a girlfriend?”

Joaquin turned toward him, grinning warmly. "So am I handsome to you?"

Sire looked away. He felt so weak whenever Joaquin smiled at him. “Y-yes. It’s obvious.”

Silence returned.

“I'm too busy chasing someone." Joaquin said softly. “For a long time now.”

Sire glanced at him. Someone? Who? His hands curled into fists. His jaw tightened without him noticing.

“And it’s a man.”

Sire should’ve been unfazed, but he was surprised anyway. He turned to look at Joaquin. Everything—the kisses, the way he looked at him—suddenly made sense. This man likes men.

He swallowed, searching for words, finding none.

“I’ve dated women, been with them,” Joaquin continued, his voice steady and sincere. “I never imagined myself with a man. Not until I met him. Then my world turned upside down and I started to think of him every single day. He makes my heart race. I want to be by his side always.”

“Why him?” Sire asked quietly. He misunderstood—Joaquin didn’t like men in general. Just one man.

Was it me? Or was it someone else?

The kisses—did they mean anything at all?

“I don’t know why,” Joaquin whispered. “I only know I want him. To wake up next to him. To take care of him. To hold him, kiss him every day. And most of all to see his smile—the one that captured me from the very first moment.”

Sire looked up at the stars, his chest tight, as if something pricked at his heart. “B-beyond him, have you ever liked another man?” He needed to know.

Joaquin shook his head. “Never.” Only one person ever made his heart beat this way.

“W-who is he?” Sire’s voice sounded hollow. He waited, but Joaquin didn’t answer. Sire turned onto his side, facing away.

It’s not me' he told himself. They’d barely known each other. Why had Joaquin kissed him if he already loved someone else?

The thought made his jaw clench—until he felt arms wrap around his waist. He pressed close, his chest against his back. His heart raced all over again, and all his thoughts scattered.

He tried to pull away, but Joaquin held him gently. “W-why are you hugging me?”

“I can’t sleep unless I’m holding someone,” Joaquin murmured, a lie, pulling Sire closer, resting his chin near Sire’s shoulder. “Just for tonight. Please.”

Sire felt Joaquin’s warm breath against his neck, and a shiver ran through him. Why me? Why not a pillow? He looked at the hands resting on his waist—awkward, yes, but something else too, something he couldn’t quite name.

He sighed. Just bear it. It’s only one night. He’d feel guilty if Joaquin couldn’t sleep.

He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. And just as sleep began to take him, Joaquin whispered, close to his ear—

“Isn’t it obvious, babe?”