Chapter: 4

(Sean)

It's been a whole day trying to set up Ben and Carl—- and it's failing.

Carl keeps giving excuses about being busy. But before, he was always rushing to my place in the morning, knowing damn well Ben would be there. Now he knows I'm trying to hook them up, and suddenly he's too busy.

“Boring.”

Honestly, it all adds up. I'm not even that fun to hang out with— I barely talk—- but Carl always used to be around on weekends. Now, nothing but excuses.

I laid onto my black sheets, put my phone down, and just stared out the window.

“I don't want to think about what happened yesterday. “I hate that I didn't fuck that p**sy. That's never happened before. And all because of him. Shit I don't even want to think about his name.”

But his face popped in my head anyway. “God I hate that hairy face. I hate his body, his tattoo on his knuckles and neck. Those weird frosted— blue eyes. I hate the way he stares at me. I hated the few seconds I stared back. I hate how he dresses— always formal. The way he walks, like some dark predator.”

“I just hate him, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

I mean, I hate all Mafias. Not just him. And today —- I should rest. I should relax and watch something on the TV.”

If I didn't have the cleaning crew come in every Tuesdays and Fridays, this place would be buried in dust.

“I always wait for Ben to finish my breakfast and leave my bedroom before I go out to eat. Then he cleans up and goes.”

I hopped in the shower, put on a short and plain T-shirt, and walked barefoot in the apartment. It felt good.

The smell of dark espresso hit my nose—- my favourite scene in the whole world.

“Morning, Ben greets me with a smile as soon as he sees me.

“Someone is in a good mood.”

“Why are you smiling?” I walked up to him barefoot on the tile.”

Ben's short, short, slime, and soft-looking with curly blond hair. “He doesn't answer, just blushes and looks away. I grabbed my plate and sat on the other side of the table.

“Scrambled eggs, sausage, green salad with olive, toast, and espresso. Perfect. I started eating and waited for his answer, but I guess he's keeping it to himself. Maybe it's personal.

I ate fast—- I want to watch something on TV. But I had no idea what was trending.

I glanced at Ben again. He's blushing looking even cuter than usual. He tilts his face, when he sees me staring, then quickly looks down.

“I want to watch an action or thriller movie.” I said taking a sip of the espresso.

He looks at me, but not the way he usually does. His eyes are shielded. “There are some new trending ones, he mumbled.”

He listed a few and ended up picking one for me.

“Good choice, I said once I was done eating.”

I'll eat again at the restaurant if Carl replies to my texts. It's way too early for him to start shooting. And he didn't come to my match yesterday either…. But whatever. I forgive him. He doesn't come to every match just as I don't go to watch all his movies.

Hours passed. Afternoon. I watched a couple of movies. Ben's already gone then my phone deep pings.

Carl:

Let's meet up

Me:

Why are you replying to my texts now?”

Carl:

I've been busy, where are you? I'm starving.

Me:

My apartment

Carl:

Come to the restaurant, I know you're hungry too.

“I don't know why I'm grumpy , my stomach growling —-- maybe I'm just hungry.”

Me:

Sure.

I brush my teeth, change into a light -wash jean, sneakers and a short-sleeve golf T-shirt, then drive to the restaurant. I only roll with luxury, and this place screams expensive—- just like the people inside.

I find Carl sitting alone already ordering.

“Hey, I said, sliding into the seat across from him.”

“We've got the same hairstyle, just different skin tone and sexuality.”

I picked the thick laminated menu and scanned it.

“I'm carving something hot and spicy, Carl said.”

“I groan, me too. I'll have this and this.”

The waitress took out the menu and walked away.

“The shoot took longer than I expected.” Carl said “

He doesn't mean a movie shoot, he's talking about modeling for a brand. You can even catch him on billboards sometimes. Cologne ads and designer clothes.

“He's literally the definition of boyfriend material. Girls go crazy for him—- too bad they don't know he swings the other way.”

“Does your manager know you're gay?” I asked, eyes fixed on him.”

“Yeah. He caught me making out with one of the crew. Couldn't help myself—- the guy was too damn cute.”

That makes me think of Ben.

“Oh, so you like them short and slime? Maybe a blonde with blue eyes?”

He widened his dark brown eyes like I just exposed some deep secret.

“I don't have a type, I told you.”

He's hiding something. “So what do you think about Ben?”

“He's your chef.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He took a sip of water. “I don't mess around. And I'm not ready to commit yet.”

Oh. “So you're saying Ben is the type you commit to….. but you're not ready?”

He nods.

“He's not the kind of guy you let walk away.”

“Did Ben say he's gay?” Or that he's into me? Or are you just pushing me towards him?” He sounds serious now.”

His actions say enough. “And he likes you.” I say, my face firm as I look away. I don't know if Carl is pissed or just surprised.”

I just want them to be together. They'd make sure a cute couple. And their kids? Please. A hit dark chocolate brown skin tone mixed with a fair blond with icy blue eyes? Imagine the babies. Mhn.

“I can't," he says, playing with his phone.”

“It's okay.”

___________________________

(Carl)

I didn't think Sean would still act so normal when I came out to him. Nothing—---- except how he's obsessed with pushing me towards Ben.

Ben is cute—- so cute that I'll come to Sean's house every weekend just to see him. We barely talk, but I just love how pretty he looks when cooking.

“I won't lie,” I've stripped him naked a hundred times in my head, made love to him in my thoughts. That slime body—-- pale skin, it's like a dream. But Sean's chef? And Sean is my best friend plus. Ben looks so gentle and reserved, fragile and too damn pretty. He's someone I wouldn't want to see get hurt.”

I'm not ready to commit and I don't even know if he's gay. But that didn't stop me from stalking him. I checked all his social media—-- no relationships. I climbed through every comment hoping for a sign of a boyfriend, but nothing just prevents hitting on him.

Still, I'm lucky to have Sean. Honestly, I had a huge crush on him once. But it's complicated..

“Our food arrived.”

__________________________

(Sean)

“There's a video from your match yesterday,” Carl said while eating. “You and the Mafia Lorenzo Machado locking eyes. It's going viral, people are raving about how he was staring at you.”

“His name alone makes my stomach twist.”

“It's just a coincidence.” I muttered, focusing on my food.”

“Well, people are saying he's into men. And they think he's into you.”

“I scoffed.” I'm popular, maybe he wanted an autograph.”

Lucky grinned. “I think he wants more than an autograph.”

I glared at him. “Don't.”

“And speaking of which.” He said, eyes widened,” your Mafia just walked in the door.”

Shit. How the hell does he keep finding me? This can't be a coincidence.

Carl's gay. And people keep thinking Lorenzo is into me, and that just makes me hate him even more. Not because he's gay —-- but I'm not. “I'm into women. This rumor? It will scare them off. Make me look desperate. Like I'm the predator. And I'm not.

“Ooh, his coming,” he's walking towards us. Carl whispers.”

I can't turn around. “I won't meet his gaze.”

“I need to get out of here now!”

I slide my chair back —-- thank God it didn't squeak —-- and book it up in the restroom.

“I locked the door behind me, grip the sink, and stared at myself in the mirror. My heart is pounding.”

Why am I anxious?

“I hate Mafias. I should be disgusted—--- not this.”

I press my palms on the sink and exhale hard, trying to kill whatever this weird feeling is.

“Why does he have to wear all black?” Tall, dark, drooding—- as if being Mafia isn't enough. I'm anxious because I hate him, that's all.”

Right?

“Did I run to avoid a scandal —- or to avoid him?

Machado fucking Lorenzo.

Most Mafia look terribly dangerous —-- and ugly. He's dangerous and hot.

God, I admit it—-- Lorenzo is too handsome.

My breathing is off—---- I look confused.

“A knock. Shit I forgot. This isn't my apartment.”

I opened the door —-- ready to blot and nearly tripped backwards.

“He's there.”

Lorenzo Machado.

He closes the door behind him. Click.

Same shirt as mine tight on his chest. Loose trousers, hands in pocket. Tattoo wrappers his forearms and neck, inked in anchors, numbers, symbols, crosses —--- artistic and perfect against his olive skin.

And his cologne —-- tobacco, leather, spicy and something fresh. Joop! Homme? With a touch of Pico Rannane? I know men's cologne —-- and that scent is illegal.

“He stepped forward. I stepped back.”

Why am I not moving fast?

“I should walk fast. I should.”

But I'm staring at his sculpted face. Those frosted blue-eyes. Deep and dangerous.

“I bumped into a basin. Stand tall. We're both tall. I don't want to gulp, but his thick tattoo neck makes me gulp anyways.”

He parted his lips. I stared at them.

“I want to invite you to my hotel room. He said.”

I almost laughed.

“Instead I curled my lips, I'm not interested.”

“I push him —--- he doesn't budge. My hands on his abs —-- solid steel.”

“I'm not interested,” I say again, more embarrassed than angry.

“Why? Am I not your type?”

I scowled. “I'm into women not Mafias.”

“Gonna punish me? Make me your slave? Be my master? He teases.”

“Why?”

“Kidding, " he says, voice low and rumbling with an Italian accent. “Have a date with me. Please.”

Did he just say please?”

“I'm not Gay.”

“YOU ARE”

“I'M NOT”

“YES. YOU. ARE.”

“I'm fucking not, I grit my teeth ready to swing at him.”

He exhaled —--- right into my face. His breath smelled so damn good I almost moaned.

“Seven dates he says,” he says. Voice like a growled lace with seduction. “Then decide.”

I open my mouth. But you don't even have my num—”

He's already gone.

“What the hell?”